When I was growing up back in Coleraine, we had a dog, a chihuahua which went by the name of Roscoe.
He was a fun little fella, although was often beaten up by our cat called Tinker.
Upon release from his kennel, his party trick was to run wildly and aimlessly around the house until he could run no more, before collapsing into a tiny heap. Then, following a brief period of rest and recuperation, he'd be off again. A one trick doggy you might say.
Sadly, time catches up with all of us. And in his latter years, Roscoe's mad dashes became fewer in number and slower in speed. By the end, when I opened his kennel door, he would simply shake his head and invite me to **** off.
I tell you this because I'm beginning to feel a bit like Roscoe. Whilst we speak to potential new VANBAR associates clients and before we taking the leap of getting our own premises, Vanessa and I continue to work from our dining room table. And cabin fever is beginning to set in.
Don't get me wrong, I've become quite fond of our dining room wall - I've lovingly stripped it once painted it twice in recent years. But the novelty is beginning to wear off and a change of scenario is forever welcome. So much so that, when I get out of my version of Roscoe's kennel, I get an urge to run around manically with my tongue around my ankles. If only this wasn't so undignified - and my legs weren't now beginning to go, just like his did.
That said, help is thankfully at hand in the shapely form of February. After a dull January (I'm sure I wasn't alone), this month has already delivered one fun adventure with the promise of more to come.
The first was Vanessa's birthday weekend in Newcastle which, I must say, was much fun despite my periodic realisation that I'm now married to a 40-year-old.
It is a situation that will take some getting used to, I willingly concede. But I'm stuck with it, sorry, her.
He was a fun little fella, although was often beaten up by our cat called Tinker.
Upon release from his kennel, his party trick was to run wildly and aimlessly around the house until he could run no more, before collapsing into a tiny heap. Then, following a brief period of rest and recuperation, he'd be off again. A one trick doggy you might say.
Sadly, time catches up with all of us. And in his latter years, Roscoe's mad dashes became fewer in number and slower in speed. By the end, when I opened his kennel door, he would simply shake his head and invite me to **** off.
I tell you this because I'm beginning to feel a bit like Roscoe. Whilst we speak to potential new VANBAR associates clients and before we taking the leap of getting our own premises, Vanessa and I continue to work from our dining room table. And cabin fever is beginning to set in.
Don't get me wrong, I've become quite fond of our dining room wall - I've lovingly stripped it once painted it twice in recent years. But the novelty is beginning to wear off and a change of scenario is forever welcome. So much so that, when I get out of my version of Roscoe's kennel, I get an urge to run around manically with my tongue around my ankles. If only this wasn't so undignified - and my legs weren't now beginning to go, just like his did.
That said, help is thankfully at hand in the shapely form of February. After a dull January (I'm sure I wasn't alone), this month has already delivered one fun adventure with the promise of more to come.
The first was Vanessa's birthday weekend in Newcastle which, I must say, was much fun despite my periodic realisation that I'm now married to a 40-year-old.
It is a situation that will take some getting used to, I willingly concede. But I'm stuck with it, sorry, her.
To be fair, the old girl stuck the pace pretty well over our three days away. She even stayed awake once after midnight, albeit briefly. However, I can now expect to see little of her for the rest of the month as she catches up on sleep.
That's why I have other plans to get me out of the kennel.
