Pippa in the Mist

We got home yesterday and, oh man, I have never slept as well in my life as I did last night in our own bed. I suspect that goes for all three of us. Thank goodness for home.

Before we left Moreton-in-Marsh yesterday morning, Olga and I went for an early walk. A picturesque mist cloaked the fields, making me feel like a character in a Bronte novel. We met a little border terrier named Pippa, an energetic ball of wiry brown fur being walked by a middle-aged guy who had recently traveled to the American South and told me of his visit to Georgia, South Carolina and Tennessee. Meanwhile, Olga and Pippa had a fun romp -- Pippa loved to jump on Olga and then roll onto her back in the grass, playing submissive, as if inviting Olga to ravage her. We let them go at it for a while, but I decided to separate them when Olga began lightly nipping at Pippa's legs and ears. She was just playing but Pippa was much smaller and I didn't want any inadvertent damage!

Anyway, Dave, Olga and I boarded the train about noon and got back to London an hour and a half later. Olga was perfectly behaved and seemed much calmer on this train journey -- no panting, to speak of. Once home, I launched the laundry and Dave and I watched "The Shawshank Redemption" and "The Green Mile," a prison double-feature! It was so nice to curl up on the couch and not have to go anywhere. Home sweet home, indeed.