I shall write this one up whilst its fresh on the memory. Our usual morning walk takes us through a clover field where a young woman walks two vicious, snarling whipetty things. Today they corner red Dook and he's not a fighter. Seeing an exit route, he slipped through and accidentally knocked over this jogger. What followed was a performance followers of football will be familiar with. "Are you alright?" I asked him, meaning any serious injury. "Of course I'm not bloody alright!" . His self piteous performance brought over the woman with the vicious dogs over. He continued to play to the crowd. I thought it best I remove myself from the situation before I told some truths.
After his audience had left he got up and ran a quater of a mile down the hill. A passerby laughingly informed me he had experience of the jaggers character before. When I reached the road he was again on the ground having found a fresh audience. I suggested he was making mountains out of molehills and left them to it. A pathetic characterit me in a sour mood for the morning.
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