Yes, I know, the tweenies is that strange phenomenon between childhood and teenagehood when you are no longer a child but not yet a teenager. Advertisers love you. The BBC devotes a whole programme to you. Blah blah blah.
But to me, tweenies means something else altogether.
What do you call those few days between Christmas and New Year? Some of you may be working, some of you may be away for the whole festive break while some of you may be changing location, like the mistress, and returning to your urban life for the New Year. What do you call that time in between? Why the tweenies, of course!
So you can ask your colleagues, friends and families, where were you for Christmas? And New Year? And what about the tweenies?
Anyway, we have returned to the big smoke that is London after our Christmas hols. Apparently, we’ve missed most of the good sales so the tweenies are not quite the bargain fest that the mistress expected. We were too late so you can imagine the cursing happening in our home!
What were your Christmas highlights? Here are just a few:
Avian flu – you’ve all forgotten Avian flu as you tucked into turkey, goose, duck, chicken, partridge, pheasant, basically, anything that flies in this neck of the woods. And what about.. the Turducken, yes, just when you thought you would have to go to a medieval banquet to sample the delights of birds stuffed inside bigger birds, you get the so-called Turducken.
Apparently, it's all the rage this year; yes, in London! Not anywhere else, I can assure you. Wouldn't that have been a Christmas meal par-excellence for the tenacious dog to pinch off the table, just before the family sits down! The London-turned-Dorset chef, Hugh something, something, made it on one of his programmes and I think one of those media types thought, hey, let's start a trend. Question is; will Tesco be doing a value range Turducken next year? I've told the mistress, one bird just isn't enough anymore.
Seeing the mistress happy. She was given the pink bedroom at the end of the house and as she lay there, reading magazines and having tea brought to her room, with me lying on the bed next to her, she declared herself to be "utterly in Heaven". And yes, she did gaze - adoringly - at me! I did think, result, I WILL get a fat Christmas present after all.
Long country walks - even on Boxing Day with the guns going off. Yes, hunting may be banned but shooting is alive and well. They were shooting all day. Luckily, being a sophisticated urban sort of girl, I am not gun shy but I would think you could be easily spooked. Talking of hunting, I see that it has enjoyed a renaissance. Err, is anyone really surprised? From a dog’s perspective, I don't have a problem with it; you get to live with a great bunch of guys together, you run out together, free to roam wherever you like and your owners don't give a toss for the law.
What's the alternative for a lot of dogs? Locked up on your own all day while your master or mistress goes to work, walked on a lead so you can’t go very far, in parks full of restrictions, and generally made to fit in with them. If they've had a night on the town, you can forget your walk the next day! It’s a no brainer!
The British Government has been made to look very foolish indeed about its hunting legislation and people in the countryside feel very strongly about this issue. Personally, if I were trying to win the animal lover’s vote, I would have sorted out intensive farming. That’s far worse! And there’s an alternative; the mistress watched Jimmy’s Farm on TV. He’s a mate of the super chef, Jamie Oliver and he has proved just what free-range living is all about. His pigs have a great life, running around, causing mayhem. I bet his dogs have a ball, too!
Sadly, not such a great life for the cloned dog, Snuppy. Or is it cloned, after all? It seems the world-famous DNA scientist was a fake all along. As was the dog. I think we know what they’ll be doing to poor Snuppy, in the name of science, to prove or disprove the expert’s credentials.
The mistress’ other half, yes, she does have one, although I try to ignore him, keeps threatening me with a trip to Korea if I don’t behave. What can you say? German Shepherd’s Pie, anyone? Pug Pizza? Collie Curry? Or how about Dalmatian Bread Pudding; at least it’s got spots.
Woof Woof