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As a child of the 60's I loved Stingray, Fireball XL-5, Thunderbirds, Catpain Scarlet, et al.  But my overall favourite was Stingray.  I definitely carried a torch for Marina, the alluring but sadly mute former slave girl of King Titan, evil aquaphibian ruler of the underwater city of Titanica.

I have no idea what she saw in Troy Tempest.  Admittedly he was ruggedly handsome and square-jawed (quite literally) but he didn't move his lips when he talked and he had funny, squinty eyes.

But I digress.

Aquaphibians.

I think I might be turning into one. 

This is a direct result of all the rain we've been having.  I'm developing webbed hands and feet and there is a definite emergence from the side of my head of what might be gills.

Also my hair sticks up funny like theirs when I get up in the morning.

And my bum looks just like theirs from the back. 

And I sometimes sound a little bit like them in the night.

I'm not sure whether this is a Good Thing or not.

Probably not.

In other news.... well there is no other news.  Unless you count Small Dog being given a new bacon wrapped rawhide chew yesterday.  

Initially she buried it in her basket, spending absolutely ages nosing it around, trying to get it under the cushion.  It was only when she glanced up from her labours and saw us both sitting watching her that she came over all paranoid, and decided to hide it in a more secretive spot.

She disappeared into the sitting room and when she emerged some time later, I assumed that she'd found the perfect place behind the sofa, or under a cushion, so I happily let her out in the garden in a state of unsuspecting innocence at to her intentions.

I present to you Exhibit One.....

Upon her return from the garden, she bustled in past me with her head down, as she is wont to do, but she had a guilty look about her and her ears were flat down.  Thus alerted to the possibility of wrong-doing, I intercepted her trying to get upstairs, presumably on her way to attempt to clean her face on our newly laundered duvet cover.

I suppose if that expression on her face says anything, it's

"It's a fair cop guv.... you've got me banged to rights."

It took PP several goes with the wire brush and Dettol to get all that hard packed mud out of her whiskers.  We have no idea where the hide chew is.  We hope she's forgotten all about it.  Which is entirely likely.

Except probably, at some point in the next few weeks, she'll have an epiphany and suddenly remember it.  Whereupon she'll surreptitiously go and disinter it, then smuggle it indoors to hide yet again.

If we're very lucky she'll simply bury it in her carry basket in the kitchen.  If we're not we'll find the festering, stinky object under a pillow, or down the side of the sofa next to the  TV remote control.

Quite why people think she's a cute, ladylike, little dog is beyond me.....