Once more a grim cloud of death hangs over the house as Muffy the guinea pig becomes the latest pet to pop it's clogs in what is looking like an increasingly unlucky household. A couple of days of a cold snap and that was it. She was found frozen to the mesh of her hutch at 7am this morning, like the little match girl she was. Me Mum was devastated. She'd just been out and bought some hay over the weekend. It's a fiver a bag that stuff you know and money, like hay, doesn't grow on trees does it. So now we've got the quandary of how to give her a decent and respectful burial with the ground frozen solid. I mean we can't just put her in the bin can we? The cats round here would have her out in no time. She's too big to go down the toilet, although that could be worth a try, it's swallowed some fairly sizable things in the past that toilet. Simply chucking her over the fence and into next door lacks a certain dignity somewhat I feel. If we were dirty cheating Argies then I guess that we'd consider eating her, but we're not. We could post her to Carlos Tevez I suppose, but he doesn't really deserve it does he? Seems like the only option then is a funeral pyre, me Dad's got a couple of litres of unleaded in a canister in the shed, that should get the party started....
You couldn't make it up could you. I spent much of the weekend dozing on the sofa watching telly. Glastonbury was on, although sad to say there was no Snoop Dog, Bone Jovi or any other canine related artists. The big news seemed to be the lack of female headliners and now we know why as one scored a spectacular own goal. She missed her slot cos she was doing her hair. It takes ages she said. Why NOT start doing your hair well before your show time. Aaagh no where's my handbag I've left it in the car, I've got to back to fetch it.