Why is it that I always have a problem finding a post title on Thursday???

Hello from a very foggy part of England. Grey is the word today. Very grey. But Glynis, Jean and I toddled off to aquazumba at an early hour and danced away in the water very happily. Jean and I then went off to tea across the valley. And since then, I have been trying out a floor steam cleaner on the kitchen tiles. This is a hit and miss affair, because it is Jean's, and she got it from a relative, and so help me, it has no instructions, so I put it together and sort of hoped for the best. The colour of the mop part defies description, but please note, my kitchen floors are steam cleaned. My hair, on the other hand, looks as if I have had a tight perm. The steam....it produces many thick clouds of steam.

Anyway, I have been tidying and waving a duster around and suddenly it is after 3pm. I thought I would show you what I unearthed to let all the wooden things dry easily, without taking up have the room. I bought this little stand one year from Ikea on the sale and have never used it. I have now found the perfect use for it, and will be hauling it out of my wood cupboard every time I make things in future. Yes, I threaded all that string through them last night, and ended up covered in the stuff. Swallowing it too. but they are done and I am delighted.

I propped Winter up in the window with my robin to show you how it looks. It is not all that shiny....the flash sort of makes it glow.

So, the washing machine is on, the vacuum cleaner is sitting at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me to summon the energy to drag it up, so I can clean the carpets up there too. I am on a roll people. A roll, I tell you. These rolls do not happen often, and I am fully aware that I will be doing my impression of a dying swan soon. But while it lasts, the house is getting clean (-er).

I will not be doing all the prompts, by the way - some really do not appeal and some have no relevance in my life today, but others are fun. Today's one is to tell you about my favourite pet. Well, I don't have one now. Bailey, our border collie, died a few years ago. Bobby was our Dalmatian/lab in Cape Town, and my sister's Naxos died more recently. So did Sandy, their adopted/shared doggie. But dogs have played a big part in my family. They are so faithful, and always there, and wonderful company too. Mum adores having dogs around.

Bailey was our rescued dog. We came across her running up to cars on a cold winter's evening, obviously distressed, and brought her home. We contacted all the vets and rescue centres, and waited, but no-one came so she stayed. A local farmer and I both thought she was a trained sheep dog, because she seemed to know whistles, but we couldn't find out her particular ones. Whenever we went out in the car, she leapt into the footwell in the front passenger's seat, and sat watching me drive. Oh, those early morning walks - across the fields and around the lakes. She was as happy as Larry. Muddy. And usually found fox droppings to ROLL in. Oh Lord. I would call home and tell someone to have a bucket of water and shampoo waiting at the front door as I drove home with my head out of the window. The stench.

Once she slipped her lead, and raced into the field, and so help me, she herded the huge flock of sheep across the field, into another one and then raced back to me panting with a huge grin on her face. Occasionally, we would find sheep in the road, and I would call the farmer to tell him. He used to say - Let Bailey do it - but I was not altogether certain she wouldn't have herded that sheep all the way home.

Oh boy, the stories.

She was getting very listless, so I took her to the vet for a tonic or something, and he lifted her up, felt her head then her body, and told me she was riddled with cancer, and that he would put her down there and then. I nearly fainted. NO! I said. I had to bring her home, tell the kids and Geoff, who adored her too. And so he gave me some medicine for her and I asked how I would know when her time was up. "You will know" he said. And a week later we knew, and so Bailey died in my arms that day.

She was hilarious. She HATED the postmen, so I had to get a letterbox on the wall outside, and she was also not fond of men in general, so we kept her away from them as the arrived. Actually, she was completely fine if she came into the room and everyone was sitting down. It was just the arriving at the door bit she hated. It made life interesting, I can tell you!

So there you have it. I should find a photo of her.