Sunday being the first and probably only summer day we will have this year, I raced down to the river with my specially bred water-loving, supposedly water-proof dog.
She has not been swimming for months.
The inevitable happened, and there was a lot of delighted dashing and splashing about pretending to retrieve sticks from the water.
THEN, there was a horrible feeling of deja vu on Monday night as a ripe "who's left a bit of camembert lying around" sort of smell became evident in the living room.
Porridge slept blissfully unaware between our chairs, fermenting...