The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.

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Bitten by the post box

I’ve been delivering local council election leaflets.

Peoples’ post boxes and front doors are fascinating. There are friendly ones, relaxed ones, magical ones, humorous ones, scruffy ones, neatly painted ones. There are things often placed next to or on the doorstep.

I have met dragons, fairies, crystals, rocks, flower pots, Teddy bear statues, dogs, cats, giraffes and of course Gnomes!

The post boxes on the doors have similar characteristics to the vibes you pick up from the front doors.

Beware the front door that’s clinically clean, who’s front doorstep has no friendly indication except, possibly, a thorny, cosmetic palm, newly placed there in an expensive blue glazed Ikea pot.

Beware the cosmetic door in the analy neat grounds, of a Garden and Home house. Those doors have vicious gold plated post boxes. They are specially designed to be tight, mean and impossible to put mail through.

And if you do, they BITE!


Hey you, yes you, ring your damn bell!

It was raining but Bass and I went along the canal path anyway. The path was deserted.

Then the rain stopped.

Within seconds every dog in the town appeared, and every cyclist too!

The cyclists are a complete pest. The come up from behind totally silently and wizz past unexpectedly. You have to watch out for them constantly. I have taught Bass to stop walking when I yell”Wait!” so the cyclists can go past safely.

Yesterday, two of us were standing chatting on the path with our dogs doing social networking, when suddenly, Bass ran across the path in an invitation to play.

There was a scrunching of brakes and a yelp from the cyclist who came upon us without warning and nearly went over the handlebars in an effort to avoid the dog.

The two of us, total strangers, yelled in unison “Use your BELL!”

The cyclist uttered no apology, but mounted his machine and rode off into the distance,

to terrorise someone else….

Whats wrong with you people? Why can’t you just tring your damn bells?

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Bunnies, pheasants and geriatrics

I met a frail old lady on my forest walk. She clipped her very ancient loose West Highland White on a lead as I approached with Bass. Bass is mostly on an extension lead.

She said “Oh, I always let my dog off the lead in this wood. There are no rabbits or other wildlife here he can chase.” We had a nice chat.

So, as we parted, I let Bass off his lead with some trepidation in case he disappeared into the great unknown. But knowing there were no rabbits nor wildlife in the wood, made me brave. Bass just trotted along beside me as normal. So after a while, I put him back on the lead.

Thank goodness I did.

Very shortly thereafter, a bunny hopped across our path followed by a pheasant. Bass went into overdrive and I had to yell “Leave!” and get him under control. It was somewhat stressful for us all.

It occurred to me that the frail old dog belonging to the frail old lady might not have had the energy to notice any wildlife. And that maybe the frail old lady should have gone to spec savers….


Dogs arranging toys

The new dog Bass arranges his toys on our lounge carpet.

Sometimes the toys are on a straight line, sometimes a triangle. He hasn’t got many toys, but maybe he’d enjoy a Rubick’s cube?

Dogs Arranging toys link


Dog responses to you…

This cartoon was supposed to show that dog thoughts are constantly innane. But actually, it shows better how our dogs respond to us when we are happy, depressed, angry, pensive, excited or suicidal They are wonderful companions, reliably loving… all circumstances.

This is why I love dogs. You can rely on them to be uplifting whatever your circumstances……


Impatience leads to choking and fire

So I’m really impatient. Impatience causes choking and fires in the Furlong house.

Mr Furlong has had enough of me about the fires, and he couldn’t help me when I was choking.

I was eating my lunch: delicious lunch of Oatcakes and Mr Furlong’s real Anchovy paste, topped with sliced tomato and Mr Furlong’s real Nando’s sauce. Yum! So I breathed a crumb down the wrong way. But instead of waiting for the choke that ensued to stop, I chomped another mouthful and breathed in to cough. Well, that caused the worst choke I have ever had in my life. I really should have waited to finish my choke before stuffing my face with more….

The fires are caused by a faulty stove/cooker. Well, it frustrates me, anyway. The plate takes AGES to get hot. So I chuck a little coconut oil in a pan and put it on the plate (turned to full power) and then go and do something useful instead of standing in the kitchen, picking my nose, waiting for the frying pan to heat up.

This causes problems.

I forget.

I remember when I hear Mr Furlong yelling “fire”.

The subsequent scene is not nice.

I must remember not to be impatient, I must remember not to be impatient, I must remember not to be impatient, I must remember not to be impatient, I must remember not to be impatient, I must remember not to be impatient,

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Beauty is in the eyes

I’ve noticed a lot of TV people, and celebrities have dead eyes. To me, a person can be perfect face-wise, but they are not “beautiful” unless there is light in their eyes.

Conversely a person can be plain, or even ugly, but beautiful by the light in their eyes.

I am often struck by the beauty of the light in Mr Furlong’s eyes, and our new grandchild is going to slay many hearts by the light in his eyes. I hope nothing takes the light away.

Children often carry the light, but lose it later. I don’t know what curtain falls over people’s eyes, but somehow it covers the light or the light withdraws…

What do I mean by the light?

Here is June Brown. She is ninety two and she’s beautiful to me.

June Brown

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Arthritis, arthritis, arthritis

I’m no expert on Arthritis, except I know I have it.

I have Osteoarthritis in my right wrist and both knees. Well, they can see it in my knees via X-ray which they told me about twenty years ago. But my knees never worry me. Some years back, I had a wrist X-ray – and there it was again! It showed itself.

And it’s a pest.

The reason my right wrist is in such a bad condition, is because, after my stroke disabled my left side, I only use my right hand. The doctor suggested that if the pain is too excruciating, I have my wrist “fused”. But then I might end up with two hands not working, yes?

So no. Not going to do that.


my friend in London says that people can “cure” that kind of arthritis – (Osteo), – as it is caused by the breaking down of cartilage. I’m looking into it – how to get collagen working there in my wrist. Today I made Bone Broth. I’ve used Bone Broth before. About Bone Broth.


However, another monster has raised it’s ugly head. Osteoporosis!

Osteoporosis is when bones, which are living things, that reform constantly, are unable to regenerate fast enough and become weak and prone to breaking. In old people, you can see a Dowager’s Hump which is caused by the fracturing of the lower vertebra.

Mr Furlong says he doesn’t think I have a Dowager’s Hump, but Mr Furlong has been known to be very cautious with answers!

But my sister has been diagnosed with Osteoporosis, so I got sent for a bone density scan by our Surgery.

Anyway, because I haven’t used my left side properly for almost forty years, I have Osteoporosis there the bone density X-ray nurse told me. If you don’t use it, you lose it, evidently.

So I was exhorted to exercise, eat my spinach and take the meds

Well, I’m not taking the meds,



Oh the sunshine!

Busy, busy basking.



Excursions on the bus.

Home along the river.

Swans and ducks, and even birds in our garden.

Walks through the wood and working in the garden with new dog Bass sunning himself on the garden table. He loves the sun. And his coat gleams.

We’ve all been basking in the sunshine.

But tomorrow the rain is coming back.

I believe.


Pedometer math

I bought a pedometer.

It has taken me quite a while to figure out how to set it up. But I have done it.


today I walked Bass-the-dog through the wood from my front door. I walked EXACTLY half a mile.

Then I turned around and walked home to the very same spot we started from.

My math-brain tells me a half a mile and a half a mile equals one mile. Well it did in my youth.

But my pedometer said I had walked only 0.95 of a mile.

I think it lies.