Out today

To get to the seafront we go down a slight hill, cross the main road, and walk across the municipal golf course (now footgolf). On our walks George invariably is a long way behind. Even when we start off he dawdles as he has to get a good sniff of the bushes to see who's been passing.

So we're used to George being quite a way behind us. Until he gets to the golf course. On the other side of the golf course you cross the promenade to reach the beach. Now the promenade is frequently, even in Covid days, busy with walkers and particularly cyclists. Cyclists get very annoyed if a dog runs/walks/meanders in front of them so we make sure one of us checks the promenade is clear before George crosses.

George has got wind of this and, for some reason, finds it objectionable, so every time we walk across the golf course he tries to get in front. He even runs. Every time. 

In the photo Husband is still lagging behind and has to get ahead before he reaches the trees.

It's such a strange little habit he's acquired - George that is not Husband - in his older age.

Today I've discovered that a group of snails is called an escargotaire. It's one of several options for the collective noun; another one is walk, which seems a strange term for creatures that don't.