Sometimes you think that perhaps it is time for the world to come to an end, – shame for Kate though who would just be getting over the morning sickness by December 20 oddth.
Out walking yesterday, in rural Barnsley, a place with a strong mining history; think flat caps, whippets and “Trouble at t’pit. Indeed I was walking above the former mine workings where 12 children died in a flash flood in the ventilation shaft they were sheltering in, way back in 1832 or thereabouts.
It was a bright sunny day, chill, obviuosly, but quite warm enough one would have thought for, say, a small dog, with a shaggy coat.
But obviuosly not.
Said pooch was wearing a sheepskin lined puffa jacket – with a red, fleecy lined hood.
A word to my canine friend, piss in her slippers and crap on her bed, that’s if you can work your way out of your doggy onesie.