Bog crawling

Elder Son and family have gone to Butlins for the weekend for a football tournament, so we have house guests in the form of Toby Dog and Stella Cat.

I took Toby for a walk this afternoon, intending it to be a short walk over the tip but I got distracted and ended up walking by the river. I said, "We'll walk until we reach the first swamp." (Swamp being a place where the path has been washed away and replaced by a bog.)

Then, of course, we reach our first swamp and I say, "We can manage this, Toby." 

By the time we reach our fifth - impossible - swamp it's too late to say, "Go back now," and instead I say, "This must be the last one." 

It wasn't. But I got across it without sinking up to my knees, and by relying on things you don't want to have to rely on. Like the branch that broke off in my hand. 

I squeaked a lot but only actually screamed once when I thought I was headed for the miry pit. 

It was worth it though. 

I feel better for it though I may be suffering later! I put my vest on to go out and I realised my granny would say that's why I have a cold. Taking off your vest, putting it back on, taking it off again. No good will come of it. But may is well and truly out.

And when I got home Stella appeared to remind me that before I left I said, "I'll feed you when we get back, Stella."