The Last Furlong

Comments on the race of life.


Extinction and other rebellions

Oh, what strange goings on are happening in society. Rebellion is everywhere.

In the UK here we have Extinction Rebellion. They are the crowd with the dreadful Thurnberg marching ahead, carrying her banner of green insanity, groomed by Communists in a revolution of children and young people without wisdom.

We have the Remainer Rebellion which is by hook or by crook, fair or foul, stopping legitimate politics in our once democratic country.

We have a new political party formed, The Brexit Party, rebelling, not only against the Remainer Rebellion, but constructing a whole new way of running political parties.

Here in my country, polls tell us, people are now sick of LBTQ (insert alphabet here) pushing their causes and are rebelling against the political correctness of it. Some of our schools are rebelling against the inclusivity teachings in schools. Schools have had to be closed.

There are rumours of huge disgruntlement in the population about cutbacks to services and the invisibility of our police force, the ineptitude of The National Health Service and Social Services. They are on the point of rebelling.

If you read the papers, or follow the news, we have doomsday arriving on all fronts.

Oh and then there’s Trump and Bo Jo (Boris Johnson). They are going to bring on the apocalypse.

Of all the current rebellions, the foment of Extinction Rebellion is the most terrifying. Imagine a zero carbon emissions world! That would be the downfall of the Western world, a political agenda desired by every totalitarian leader in History.

Extinction Rebellion make all the other rebellions, even those of the distant Historical past, seem quite, quite sane!

Link to my today’s post on Life on an Alien Planet


Dogs and mad Englishmen

Oh, it’s been hot.

People here look at me in astonishment as they say cheerily “Isn’t the weather wonderful?” And I reply ” No, it’s horrible! It’s HOT.”

When we first arrived in England from Africa twenty something years ago, everyone asked the same question “Don’t you miss the sun?”


We don’t.

The citizens here all trog off to hot places for their hols. People are considered to be living in poverty in the UK if they can’t afford their annual “hols”.

In Africa, with five children, dogs, cats, hamsters, guinea pigs, chickens, ducks, and a parrot, we didn’t do “hols”.

When the heat is on here, mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

In Africa, you stay indoors, or rest under trees or on the veranda. You never lie in the sun. You don’t get admitted in droves to Accident and Emergency with sunstroke and sunburn. In Africa people KNOW about stuff like that. It’s Englishmen who are fools.

As for the mad dogs, I recieved an email from a UK pet site I follow. It asked dog owners not to walk their dogs in the heat.

So they’ve learned about dogs, but not about Englishmen



Wicked wood

We walk through the wood – often, Bass and I.

I notice two areas in it, that I think are used for nefarious activities.

The one, is a circle of fallen logs under an archway of surrounding trees. It’s cathedral like. It’s beautiful except for odd litter. It’s always clear of undergrowth, and the path to it is well kept. There is something curious about it. Sometimes people disappear into it, or emerge from it. I can see them ahead of me dissipate off the main path like wraiths in the distance. Or, appear.

What are they doing?

Once, I passed two young men that I’d seen emerge, sitting on a log further along the main path, dividing something up between them from a little parcel. Was it lunch? Or was it drugs?

I think the cathedral is not used for religious illumination or pagan rites, but for another mind altering experience. It might be a drop off point, or business hall.

The second place is new. I noticed it the other day. There was a crop circle in the undergrowth. I imagined it was made by a small UFO hovering under the trees. It was perfectly circular. And, after all, it is crop circle season.

But a few days later, the circle, which might have been left by a loving couple meeting in a private place, has now become a rectangle almost the size of my bedroom.

The flattened undergrowth makes a mattress like floor, and the size of it indicates to me that it’s being used by a whole group.

It’s a perfect hideaway for subterfuge, secrets, smoking and sex.

That’s a much better place for teenagers to meet than the field at the back of our house, ’cause Bass doesn’t like them meeting there at night. He barks.


What lies!

At the end of April, I wrote a sign for myself and taped it on the goodie cupboard door in the kitchen.

In that cupboard are things like peanut butter, biscuits, lemon curd and Nuttella. Also the cupboard is in the middle of that wall. Obvious. Plain to see. Noticeable.

The sign says ” Liz is on diet”.

Liz said that to herself because she has put on a few kilos and her blood sugar readings have increased this year. Mr Furlong didn’t need a sign. He is maintaining everything perfectly. And the sign was supposed to be read by the two of us, so that the thin one could emotionally support the overweight one.

The sign was supposed to be read everyday, but we don’t notice it at all. Mr Furlong still brings me treats, or suggests fiendish foods.

I’ve just weighed myself.

My weight is UP.

Since I’ve been “on diet” it’s always up, never down.

That sign is a lie!

I’m taking it down.


Evolution at the Furlong’s

Evolution is happening here, at our house.

Our flies are getting really intelligent.

In the old days, we could pick up a fly swat and stalk them around the lounge until THWAT! we got em.

Now, I notice how really clever they’ve become.

The moment we pick up the fly swat,

They scarper.

Where do they scarper to?

Out the door and through the passageway to somewhere else…..


Contemplation on a tricky situation in football

The Furlongs have been to Goa. It’s a fascinating part of India. There are many cow situations in India because cows are sacred animals, never to be harmed. They have precedence everywhere you go.

Goa is colourful, vibrant and loud. And dirty. There you feel pulled into real life without cosmetic artiface.

This video gave me a thoughtful moment about diplomacy. How do you deal with soccer practice when the sacred cow is in charge of the game?


Arranging toys – why do dogs do it?

We have a toy arranging dog.

We never see him do it.

He arranges his toys with the heads aligned somehow. He usually does it in threes which he selects from a variety in his toy box. He lays them out alone, displayed.

Why does he do it? Should we praise him? Anyone know anything more than the first results on the Internet?

Here are some photos I’ve been collecting…

Any thoughts?

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Keeping for best

My mother was 92 years old when she told me in deadly seriousness, the dress I suggested she wear, she was “keeping for best”.

I have a really nice shirt jacket in black with a Nelson Mandela collar. I really like it. I wear for it for “best”. So I have been toying with wearing it on Sunday for a family event with my new £3 trousers I bought at the town market.

Then I thought, no, it’s only family. It’s not a “best” event, really.

Then I remembered my mother who had clothes for “best” which she never wore.

Then I thought what a waste of enjoyment if you never wear the clothes you like because, when you are getting old there might be not so many “best” times ahead.

Then I remembered when I bought my shirt jacket in black with the Nelson Mandela collar.

Blimey! It was twenty one years ago. I might have worn it on six occasions.

If I don’t hurry up and get some use out of it, I’ll die and it will still be virtually brand new.

I’m not going to keep anything for “best”. Today is “best” and Sunday will be a good enough event to wear my black shirt jacket with the Nelson Mandela collar.