He's here!

The mini four-footed has moved in. Last Thursday. He is, of course, beautiful...and highly intelligent, and desperately precocious...and all those things that proud parents modestly acknowledge in their newly-arrived progeny, whilst quietly harbouring ambitions of a Double First and a rowing Blue. On a more realistic level, it is true to say that he arrived already knowing his own name, and understanding the word 'No' - both being highly practical accomplishments - as well as showing signs of being almost house-trained. (Not bad for under twelve weeks....and, come to think of it, probably already better than most rowing Blues could manage!)

The newly-promoted senior four-footed was initially beside himself with excitement at the new arrival, but became more ambivalent when he saw the puppy being given food and toys - on both of which he feels he has a 100% monopoly. He'll be fine, though. At the moment, he's looking long-suffering, as he's the main source of canine entertainment round here, and is enduring a near constant onslaught of rugby tackles, and having his rump bitten or his ears attacked...all of which he takes in relatively good part, if you can ignore the hunted expression that descends from time to time. Fortunately, for everybody, the energy level isn't constant, and it's a demonstrable fact that puppies are blissfully asleep for a lot of the time.

We have two weeks in London, and then we all, four-footeds included, set out on the Great Trek southwards, and will de-camp to Italy for the autumn.

Tonight's dinner:

Asparagus with Hollandaise.

Roast Beef (one of the benefits of being in the UK) and runner beans (from the many kilos of which we were given by the mini four-footed's breeder when we went to collect him)

. Passion fruit Tarts