Well, we stayed a week, but the time has come to continue my adventures. So it's farewell to all my mates in the Windmill End Gang.
I don't know many of the names of the guys that I met, though there were definitely two called Max, and Max the Collie was an ace footballer even though his owner didn't know it before he met me.
I met Alan who already had a Collie, and now has a young pup to look after. I've seen the pictures and he's really cute (the puppy not Alan), but then again, I was cute at that age, and look at me now........
The trip along the canal to the Black Country Museum went quite well, at least Mum and Dad seemed to enjoy it. I, apparently, wasn't allowed in unless I was in the Guides, or some such silly rule, so I had to stay and guard the boat; which has its compensations, such as having the whole double-bed to recline upon instead of having to share it.
We've come a few miles along the canal to a big shopping place called Merry Hill so that Dad can replace the beer and bacon that he had to 'get rid of' when the electric thingy that made the fridge work broke.
While we were going along, (or 'gooing' as they say round here), we came across loads of guys on the towpath sat on stools and dressed in green Army clothing.
They had really long poles with hooks on the end, which they seemed to be using to pull all sorts of plastic and rubbish out of the canal.
One guy had a huge lump of it on the end of his hook, and although his mates were laughing, he didn't look that pleased. If he'd had gone a bit further along the path, there was a massive patch of stuff caught under a bridge and he could have pulled out huge chunks of it all day with his pole.
Got to go now, 'cos Mum and Dad are back from the shops and I need to get off the bed and pretend I've been on guard all the time they've been away
|Note the absence of ducks and geese on the banks............|