Wimbledon..What's all that about??

Warwick, Grand Union Canal

Dad says that the whole country is suffering from something called 'Murray Mania', and I'm not sure that its a good thing.
For a start, we were parked next to a boat that had a really loud telly, and, as you do, you can't help but look to see what it is they're watching.
So there's this man, I guess that he must have been the Murray, dressed in white and he's got one of my green 'chasing' balls in his hand, and he's teasing the man at the other end of the grass, because he's just bouncing the ball on the ground and not hitting it with his bat. (If that was me, I'd bite his hand and take it off him, but that's something that Dad and I are working on apparently).
Anyway, eventually he gives up teasing the other man and hits the ball as hard as he can; so hard in fact that the other man can't get to it. Well the crowd didn't like it either, because they all shouted at him, and so did another man who was sat on a step-ladder, who seemed to be calling everybody 'love'.
The shouting of the crowd didn't seem to be upsetting the man who was teasing, because he just smiled and did it all over again.
A couple of times, the man at the other end did manage to hit the ball back, and just to let this Murray guy know that he wasn't happy about his teasing, he hit it to the other corner of the grass, just to make him run around a bit, and that seemed to take the smile off his face for a while.
Eventually, the man got a bit fed up of being teased by Murray all of the time, so he took his bat, sat down on a chair and had a drink of squash.
I'd got a bit bored by now, and all this teasing was going on a bit too long to grasp my short attention span, so I guess I must have dropped off for a while, anyway, a load of noise on the telly must have woken me up because I just caught the man on the stepladder shouting 'Gamesetten Match', (which sounded a bit foreign), Murray threw his bat away and flopped on the ground in temper, then loads of people all ran onto the grass, I guess it was to tell him that they weren't impressed by his theatricals, then I went in because I thought I heard the sound of cooked chicken being sliced..............................
As one who chases green balls for a living, I think that this type of behaviour shouldn't be shown on TV, and in any event, Murray could have had much more fun if he'd hit the ball niceley to the other man, who could have hit it back to him, and so they could have had a nice time without all of the teasing, shouting, tantrums, and men on stepladders talking in German.....
If that's what you call 'Murray Mania', you can keep it.....Thankfully, it's only once a year.

xx Beau

War Zone

Stoke Bruerne, Grand Union Canal

I woke up this morning in a war zone...........

Normally, I wake up and have a look outside to check on the weather and compare it to the rubbish that Dad gets off the radio.
Because of where we park the boat, I can usually guarantee that I will see trees, bushes, and occasionally, overweight men running past who should really keep their legs covered up, and certainly shouldn't be wearing tight black shorts with lumps in all the wrong places.

But today, we were surrounded on all sides by men in camouflage army suits, and judging by the amount of kit that they had brought with them, they were going to be here for a long time. The towpath was stacked full of boxes, bags, tents and all sorts of other stuff that I couldn't image a use for. In most places, the path was almost completely blocked, so heaven knows how the bikes and buggies were going to get through.

Dad said that he'd seen this sort of thing before, and we had to get out of there NOW!!....so without having time for my morning workout with the squirrels in the Park, Dad, who is not known for his speed of movement, amazed us all by getting the boat going as loud as it could, within a matter of minutes.
In any event, Dad's unusual morning turn of speed didn't do any good, 'cos as soon as we got going, the men on the bank put really long poles across the canal to try and stop us from getting away. Some were so long that they nearly touched the bank on the other side.
Dad was pretty determined to press on, so he headed for the poles and the men left it until the last minute to lift them out of the way. Even so, they were determined to upset us, because, on the end of each pole was a bit of string to which they had tied something slimy and wriggly, and I think that they meant to drop it on us as we went by.

Dad said it was like a game of chicken, but I've never seen chickens do this sort of thing. Anyway after a couple of miles, there weren't any more men with poles, so I think it was just that we'd parked in a bad area.

It made me think though.........you spend all day cruising along on your boat, you park it up in the middle of nowhere, you go to sleep and when you wake up, you're the victim of rural violence. I know that Dad thinks I'm a bit paranoid, but my worry is that I might not be paranoid enough.............

xx Beau

 

Wendover, Grand Union Canal

We had to move from our old parking spot in Berkhamsted. Dad said that shopping in White Rose was costing him more arms and legs than he was happy to part with.
I personally think that it was the price of his bottles of beer that clinched it, because their two for the price of three offer didn't quite meet his daily needs.

So I gave the local rabbits their early morning exercise over on the Park, ducked the geese, goosed the ducks, and, with a heaviness of heart, I left my final pee-mails along the towpath, and we were off to pastures new. 'Beau has left the building!!', ...and I can only hope that another of my kind will pass this way to keep the local rabbits on their toes............

We travelled about 7 miles which took most of the day....the boat doesn't go very fast, and if  Dad pushes the white lever thingy on the side, the boat gets louder, rattles a lot, and makes more smoke, but we still don't seem to go any faster......in fact we got passed by the same group of grey-haired old ladies twice yesterday; once on their way, and again on their way back!

We came to a junction and turned left into a very narrow bit of water, Dad said its called an 'arm', but it looks like a ditch. Anyway, after about a mile we came to a dead end and had to turn around and we still hadn't found a place to park. On the way back down the ditch, we finally managed to find a place under some trees, and something to tie the boat to.

Tomorrow we're going exploring, hopefully to find a suitable place to play football. In the meantime, Dad's taken a couple of pictures of me 'doing my thing', I particularly like the first one where I took the ball on the half-volley and headed it straight past the keeper ......straight into the canal.
My 'ball-girl' (Mum) had to go over the bridge to pick it up. .....Sad, but if they bought me a proper set of goalposts, I could practice this sort of thing more often.......Enjoy...................

xx Beau

Berkhamsted, Grand Union Canal

Last time we were here, it rained and rained.......we've been all the way into London and back out, and now that we're back here.....its still raining!!

The plague of flying Pekinese seems to be over. It's either because the wind has dropped, or because Rosie the Rotty, (who bequeathed me her football), has given up being a Veggie.

The football practice is still going well, Dads dribbling is pretty much as it was, but I might have to give up heading the ball, because I looked in the mirror the other day and I'm sure my neck is getting shorter. We saw a bulldog a couple of days ago and Mum said that's what I'll look like if I don't take it easy.

During my observations of the people using the towpath round here, I've noticed that an awful lot of people are going along talking to themselves. They're waving their arms about, laughing, saying things like 'No waaaay! and 'You dint!!, and 'OK, laters man!!.....
Anyway, whatevvaa.......
Mum says that they're probably using 'hands free', but there's far too much arm action for that to be true, or, she said, they might be using an 'eye-phone', but I'm not sure that they could talk and see at the same time if they were using something like that.
I'm trusting my sheepdog intuition here, and coming down on the side that says that Berkhamsted has a lot of people who are lonely, and who use the towpath as a form of therapy. I, myself have been known to mutter to myself quite a bit when Dad isn't operating on my frequency...................

Well, the sun has finally come out for a few minutes, so, despite the risks of becoming bulldog-like, I'm going to stare at Dad to see if he can work out what my 'eye-phone' is saying...................


xx Laters, man

Beau

 

Hemel Hempstead, Grand Union Canal

Dads parked the boat near to some grassland that looks like it might be suitable for a game of football, though getting him off the boat might be a bit difficult as there isn't a pub nearby, and tempting him with a doggy treat doesn't seem to work as well on him as it does on me.............

I've been watching the goings-on, taking place on the nice smooth bit of grass on the other side of the water, for some time now, and although we are supposed to be in the 21st Century, this place still seems to be carrying on some form of ancient punishment.

Just after lunch, loads of men, all dressed in white, came out of a wooden shed on the edge of the grass, and made a circle in the middle. Shortly after, another man came out and had to stand in front of some sticks that were stuck in the ground. He didn't seem to be very happy, because he kept on looking around at all the others that were in the circle. I guess he'd done something really bad, because a big tall chap ran towards the circle and threw a ball as hard as he could at the man by the sticks who only had a small piece of wood to protect himself with.
He managed to dodge a couple of the throws, but eventually one hit him really hard on the leg and everybody cheered, then they stopped cheering because one of the men, who was wearing three jumpers and a coat because he was cold, said that the ball hadn't hit him hard enough and he would have to stay.

One of the balls that was thrown at him hit his bit of wood and he tried to make a dash for the wooden hut, but the men in the circle came in closer and threw the ball at him to make him stop. Then the inevitable happened; one ball hit his leg really hard and broke the sticks. Everybody cheered and didn't seem sorry that the man had been hurt and could hardly walk back to the shed.
I guess it was because they were looking forward to throwing balls at the next victim who was just coming into the circle with his bit of wood.

I expect thay all thought that they were really hard men, throwing balls for two hours, at defenceless individuals who weren't allowed to move. Anyway, they weren't that tough, because as soon as it started to spit with rain, they all ran indoors and didn't come out again. A pity really, because I would have like to see how they liked it if they were the ones who had to stand by the sticks.

They say that football is a rough game,...... but this type of ancient punishment just isn't cricket!

The sooner we get away from here the better, I reckon.......

xx Beau

Cassiobury Park, Grand Union Canal

Sadly, we have had to leave my favourite parking place at Rickmansworth, because Dad says we have to carry on adventuring. (I think that it is more the call of the Three Horseshoes at Winkwell, rather than the call of the open road as they say)...............but these are the mere musings of a cynical Collie with too much time on his paws.

I was just getting to know the dog from the boat in front of us as well. She was really good-looking in a Collie-cross sort of way, and I was looking forward to staying around her for a while. Anyway, we left early in the morning, so all I could do was leave her a quick p-mail and hope that she got the message.

So three hours later we parked near some woodland where I'd been before, and would you believe it, within an hour, her boat had parked behind us and she came trotting up the tow-path!!
Just goes to show that I've still got what it takes.....not many dogs would walk 4 miles up the towpath just to be with their BEAU........get it?

Got to go and brush away the dust of travel now.....

xx Beau

p.s.
I've got followers all over the world now, and I would love to read your comments on my stories. xx B

pps
Just couldn't resist chewing on this old bit of leftover dachshund.

Rickmansworth, Grand Union Canal

We're back at one of my favourite places, and the scene of a recent triumph in the parade ring (see my post 19.05.2013)
Of course its quieter now with all of the Festival people out of the way, and I'm not into all that fame and fortune stuff really....

We've been back a few days now and I've met a couple of pals who, like me, like to run around and have a good time. With geese, ducks and swans in abundance, there is sport to be had for the more adventurous dogs.
Today I was playing with Woody, the Lurcher, and Boo-Boo, the Greyhound, and we had a great time tearing around on the grass seeing who could take corners the fastest.
The race seemed to worry some of the owners of smaller dogs who picked them up and clutched them tightly in case they got run over......of course there are always one or two that aren't quick enough, but they don't get badly hurt, and most of them are normally up and about again within a few minutes.

Dad calls it 'Collie-lateral damage', or something like that........

Anyway, it seems that we are going to stay here for a few more days yet to keep the geese in line, and whip the slower dogs into shape. One way or another, they're certainly going to know that Beau has been here......

xx Beau