Jumble and sweetshops

This photo is of Jumble our first family dog who was a perfect gentleman. We found an ad for labrador/spaniel puppies somewhere in the pre-internet age. We drove down to a farm or smallholding in the wilds of Dorset, passing hills where army regiments had carved their crests into the chalk of the green hills. Arriving at the smallholding was like stepping into rural history, Phoebe and Izzy were fascinated that the lady of the farm was carding wool from her sheep which she spun on the kind of spinning wheel might give Sleeping Beauty cause for concern.

The mother of the puppies was a Labrador Waynetta Slob. When she was not knocking over mugs of tea so that she could lap it up off the carpet she was grabbing one of the puppies by the leg and dragging it around regardless the squeals. Young Jumble was on top of a pile of cardboard boxes - king of the castle.

When we left, the lad of the smallholding opened the gate and muttered ‘I reckon it were the Saluki’. We returned home and looked at a book of dog pictures, there was one of saluki pups. We also reckoned it were the saluki.

Jumble loved to observe small animals. The staff of the pet shop in Richmond let us leave him gazing into the guinea pig / rabbit/ hamster cages. When we returned from shopping, he would still be sitting enraptured by the floorshow.

Rocco and I regularly go to the pet shop in East Sheen, this is like taking a child to the sweetshop. These are our 'dad and dog' moments, we don’t include our guests as these trips are a reward for Rocco sharing his home with the others. At first the guy in the pet shop would let Rocco forage around and shoplift from the bins behind his counter (he would just add an amount to the dog food bill). The shop was bought-out and in the shiny new pet shop the staff are still pleasant but are more po-faced about Rocco helping himself. They have taken to selling animals and insist on Rocco being on his lead as he shows too much interest in the kittens in the cages, ('Hey dad, lets buy a cat in a box').

Speaking about visiting sweetshops, I can remember when sweet rationing ended. My father took me to the corner shop and he bought the usual measly amount of confectionery plus a single chocolate bar. I could not understand it - we were permitted to have bought everything in sight (my plan) - yet we came away almost empty handed.

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Sadly, Frank Carson the Northern Irish comedian has died, he was the only person who could make a joke about the troubles. I saw him interviewed on TV in the early seventies at the start of the violence. Ending a somewhat sombre interview, the newscaster asked Frank to crack a joke. Deadpan, he replied, ‘I don’t dare, I might get elected’.