Time to Catch Up

Ok - so I find myself guilty of being the laziest blogger on the planet; it's been exactly two months minus a day since I last let anyone know what's been going on in the hoped-to-be-very-long-running saga of Rusty's adventures in Millbrookerland.

So this had best be a quick catch up job.

Since you, the kind reader of my drivellings, and I last met on these pages Tyler's Smile played a great gig at Devonport Park Bandstand, which His Rustiness attended and at which I was lucky enough to meet, albeit far too briefly, his boarder Cilla who looked after him immediately before he came to me.

Before the performance, though, Rusticles gave an object kesson in how to maintain dignity at all times as MinorEarthQwake indulged in a little minor tummy rubbing.

During the performance itself, Rusty was to be found paying rapt attention. Of course.

Betty Slobb has been running around like a mad thing organising buying her first house, courtesy of some kind mortgage lenders and a job a-working on the railway. Mrs The Millbrooker and I went to Par to take a peek at the place and enjoyed a spot of lunch in what will, doubtless, turn into our second local The Royal Inn. Where someone we all know and love joined us at table for a rather decent lunch.

Back in our own little haven from reality, the dear old 'Ark of Fiendship has got new tenants and now hosts a monthly acoustic session. His Rustiness and I went along with our good friend Slocombe (on ukulele in the shot below), Mrs the Millbrooker and Dozybean (not in shot). Good fun was had and we'll be going along again when time allows.

After my last bout of iritis, I'm having to travel to Torbay Eye Clinic on a frequent basis as they attempt to save the vision remaining in what we laughing call my "good eye". It seemed only fitting to get a shot of himself and me in the clinic's waiting area - because this is where it all started for me as regards guide dogs. Mrs the Millbrooker and I met a puppy walker there close to two years back and he asked why I didn't have a dog. I'd never really thought about it; when I had given it any consideration I'd assumed that because I have some vision left, I wouldn't be eligible.

The puppy walker suggested I give it a try and apply anyway. Eventually I did, and the rest is history. Here we are - the, by now, established team back at "home base".

So - a quick plea to anyone reading this who has a visual impairment - don't wait! Apply for a dog - it might just make all the difference in the world. It certainly has for me. Even if Guide Dogs say that now is not the time for you have a dog, they are a very supportive and helpful bunch and will be able to advise you how best to proceed. Go on - you know you want to! Lots of info here: http://www.guidedogs.org.uk/, or the application information is here http://www.guidedogs.org.uk/services/guide-dog-services#.VGIKWvmsUmM.

During His Rustiness's six monthly check up at the vet, our friendly local practitioner spotted that he has a bit more plaque on his teeth than she'd like to see on a dog of his age. He doesn't really do chewing his Nylabone (which should help to clean his toothipegs), prefering to carry it about a bit and leave it in inconvenient places for me to trip over. And he's flummoxed by the idea of rawhide chewables which might also do the job. So he now has to have his teeth cleaned by yours truly using a rubber thimble type brush and special yummy doggy toothpaste - he loves it. I'm not so keen on the very slobbery job, but there you go.

There's been plenty of out and abouting, including a very pleasant afternoon spent at the Duloe beer festival at which Ruticles was introduced to the delights of kazoo playing by Harry.

I'll leave you with a short series of shots of Rusty enjoying his favourite thing in the whole wide world (which is actually more or less anything he's doing at at any given time) - free running and playing chase the frisbee ring on the Minadhu.

Now, Where Was I?

Having been so rudely interrupted by a painful bout of iritis which has prevented me from burbling on at length about very little on these pages, so I find myself playing catch up.

I'll try to keep it brief(ish), when I last left you we were about to host Slocombe and Genevieve at our wee Breton hideaway. Here are the pair arriving at Carhaix station.

Soon after arrival we threw our good friends into the frenzy that is life in and around Trebrivan, with a short stroll around the moorlands near to Locarn - taking in the Gorge du Corong. En-route, His Rustiness in his usual good-natured way tried to make friends with any passing creature we stumbled upon.

Moving swiftly on to day two of having visitors, we did what we nearly always do with first-timers to central Brittany and headed to Huelgoat to try our luck at moving the famed Roche Tremblante. For the first time in all the years we've been going there, it did actually move! All it needed was that little bit of Slocombe magic.

Huelgoat's a friendly place - Rusty always wants to make friends, and he wasn't to be disappointed.

All too soon, Slocombe and Genevieve had to leave us to continue their holiday elsewhere. We bade them farewell and a minor quantity of half decent Bordeaux might have been quaffed while Rusty explored Slocombe's nether regions.

No sooner had Slocombe and Genevieve left than Mrs the Millbrooker and I headed off to Roscoff to pick up Betty Slobb and MinorEarthQwake.

Only a single night with the young people in Trebrivan, and off we headed to Angers on the River Maine, to meet with Maryvonne.

This was not simply a tourist visit; some of you might remember the news back in April that a young French photo-journalist had been killed in the Central African Republic. Camille was one of Betty's very close friends from her university days and we all travelled south to pay our respects. Maryvonne is Camille's mum. She very kindly allowed Mrs the MIllbrooker and me to stay in her lovely 16th century town centre house, almost next door to the impressive chateau. Here are a few shots of our short time in Angers.

Rusty had to work in Angers - he was on his best behaviour as we trogged around the chateau and enjoyed the magnificent 14th century tapestry of the Apocalypse.

After Angers, our holiday returned to the normal routine of countryside walking and evening time wining; I'll not bore you here with all that - too much time has passed, so I'll try and do a quick update of what's happened since our return.

Not long after we got back, our old friend the HIgh Lord of Southwick came to visit. It was a busy weekend - Mrs the Millbrooker and I had two gigs in one day on the Saturday and we all went to Kingsand to see some other old friends - the marvellous Gigspanner boys doing their thing on the Friday.

Our first gig (in the guise of Tyler's Smile) was at Cremyll Quay - a fund raiser in memory of Tom McMahon, thanks to the efforts of many more people than us over a £1000 was raised on the day. Rusty was suitably impressed and spent the entire time ignoring proceedings in the way that only he can.

Immediately after that performance, Mrs the Millbrooker and I packed up the kit and headed off to Wilcove to play as two thirds of The Hamoaze Band at the Wilcove Inn Beer Festival.

After the glamour (it says here) of living the rock'n'roll dream, we had to return to reality and the everyday chores, like hosing down the patio which is used as Rusty's spending area. Rusty likes the hosing bit.

Right, I've wittered on for quite long enough - there will be more another time. I'll leave you with a video of Rusty having enormous fun by (and in) the Corong in Brittany.

*************

All photos by Mrs the Millbrooker or me

except: Tapestry - shamelessly nicked from en.wikipedia.org

And Gigspanner - shamelessly nicked from Gigspanner.com

Tyler's Smile, Hamoaze Band and Rusty with Hose - the High Lord of Southwick

High Days and Holidays

Mrs the MIllbrooker, Rusty and I have been back in Cornwall (and visiting England for work purposes) for nearly a week and I've finally found time to sit here and deliver a few words of the seemingly endless drivel that I keep inflicting on a largely unsuspecting public. Actually, that's wrong. Most readers know exactly what to expect and yet you still keep coming back. Nowt so queer as folk.

We were away for two and a half weeks and got up to all sorts of adventures in Brittany and (briefly) at the eastern end of the Maine, close to the Loire, in Angers. I think I might be able to stretch the tales of our wanderings in foreign parts for a couple of posts - this time I'll concentrate on the first portion.

As usual, we took the dreadful plastic tub the Armorique from Plymouth to Roscoff. It was an afternoon sailing and we took our favourite seats aboard and settled in for the crossing.

We arrived at our Breton hideaway late in the evening, sank a few glasses of quite decent Bordeaux washed down with a modicum of port and calvados - finally collapsing bedwards at stupid o'clock.

As a result, being not quite as young and quick to recover as we once were, our first full day was devoted to a spot of grocery shopping and then "chilling" as the modern parlance would have it. Or do I mean "chillaxing". No, I probably don't.

Rusticles and I had fun playing "ring" as the evening's meat was gently barbecuing.

One of the things that we do on holiday is head out into the Breton countryside with walking boots strapped securely to our most southerly appendages and attempt to follow waymarked circuits. Some of these circuits are very well waymarked. Some fall a tad short in that department. But, almost without exception, each has some glorious views or other points of interest.

Our first expedition was into the Monts d'Arrées on a walk we'd done a few years ago but fancied trogging around again. On walks like these, Rusty gets to be on holiday, too. He's not built for guiding on moorland tracks, sunken roads and rocky outcrops, so he trogs along with us on his extending lead and I try not to trip over too many things en-route.

A peculiarity of this first walk was a small hamlet on the edge of the moorland which had a large purple elephant by the side of the track. And why not? Rusticles found this a bit perturbing and wasn't at all sure of it, backing away as I tried to get a shot with him and Mrs the Millbrooker.

Here are another few shots of that first walk of the holiday.

And a short video which I have entitled "Things a Blind Bloke Shouldn't Really Do (Vol 2354)". Rusty was, unlike with a certain purple elephant, completely unperturbed by the large goat-ram-ibex installation in the middle of nowhere.




That night we were royally treated to a slap up (and very delicious) meal by a our next door neighbours Jean-Luc and Nathalie, and her son Tristan. Mmmm.

More walking expeditions followed......

On one walk, atop a rocky outcrop overlooking the Elorn Valley and out to sea ......

...... it might not have been the best idea I've ever had to call Rusty to attract his attention for a photo opportunity with Mrs the Millbrooker as we perched on high enjoying the fresh breeze:

Evenings were spent quietly in that first week - a glass or seven of wine, a night cap or three; plenty of reading and chatting between ourselves. And His Rustiness indulged in lots of his favourite indoor activity of playing tuggy with his ring, followed by his favourite non-activity.

 And that pretty well sums up our first week. Tune in again soon for more Rusty sized thrills as we play host to Slocombe and Genevieve for a couple of days and then travel south with Betty Slobb and MinorEarthQwake to Angers where His Rustiness actually had to do some work.

Until then ... or should I say "à la prochaine"?

Afore We Go

Once again it's been a tad too long since I sat to impart my brand of drivel to the slavering masses (well the half dozen regular and dozen or so occasional readers). I can only blame my own indolence and the blazingly hot weather that tempts me into sloth with remarkable frequency.

His Rustiness, Mrs The Millbrooker and I will shortly be off to foreign climes again, so this will definitely be the last set of witterings from me for around three weeks as we'll have no internet access (or extremely limited access at best) during our time pootling around in Brittany.

So, this is a brief catch up and an "au revoir" and an "à bientôt" until sometime in mid August when there will be a myriad photos and stories of Rusty doing French things.

To be truthful, since the last posting on these pages, we've been a little lax in snapping away; but I'll do my best with what we have.

July 12th saw our first foray to a well established event that is many Wreckers' favourite of the season - the St Mellion Cherry Feast. I must say, I understand entirely why it's so well liked - it's become a firm favourite of ours, too.

Rusty was, as I've become accustomed to, the star of the show as far as many Cherry Feast goers were concerned and much time was spent talking about his training (and mine), how Guide Dogs is funded only by charitable donation and how wonderful the work they do is. His Rustiness got huge amounts of fussing when he was off harness which, of course, he enjoyed immensely.

Being the dog he is, though, nibbling at grass that might or might not have had cherries dropped onto it was of even more interest.

And that, I'm almost shame-faced to admit is all the photos we have of the last couple of weeks of Rustiness. It's either been all-too routine so that we just didn't think of getting a camera out, or all-too busy with exactly the same result.

Allow me to quote from my Facebook page about last weekend, for example (with apologies for how the software that runs these pages presents cut-and-paste text):

"Ok, let's list the next couple of day's activities.....car is now packed with kit to play until midnight tonight in a marquee in Jack's field for his party; once we're finished that and we've repacked the kit for the return journey we'll get to bed somewhere around 2ish, I reckon. Up on Sunday morning to leave the house by 9 to catch a train to Bath where we'll lunch with mum-in-law and Trickers and then stay the night at their place; up on Monday to catch the 0913 from Bath to Chippenham, meet Sis at Chippers station approx 9:45-10:00 and we all head off to Bromham for Auntie Jo's funeral; we then get the 1344 from Chippenham, changing at Bristol, to arrive back in Plymouth at 1648 where I start my evening shift at 1700. Thank goodness we're going on holiday on Wednesday............"

This is the marquee in question (thank you to Marie whose photo I have shamelessly nicked from Facebook).

Rusticles was the perfect picture of patience (how's that for alliteration?) throughout gig proceedings - quietly lolling about attached to a ground anchor to keep him from running amok among the numerous guests and accepting large amounts of fussing from said numerous guests.

Like I said, this is a brief catch up - plenty more to come when we return; until then ......