In the bleak midwinter

And boy is it bleak. Cold and damp, no sun and everywhere is muddy. It's not great when you have two hairy hounds to dry three times a day, especially when trying to steal the towel is their current favourite game. Husband chops does one drying, but the towel washing is horrendous. A close trim of bellies and tails is called for- not the husband though, although he could do with a haircut.
  I have yet another cold, thanks husband, I am almost at six weeks without an illness, this is not like me and I am getting rather pissed off with it grrrrr. So much for my vitamin bombing idea, maybe I should have spent the vitamin money on booze.
  Malcolm is doing well but he did bugger off with a whole parsnip he found on our walk. He only came back after he'd eaten it, little sod. Tonights poo could be interesting/ a nightmare.
  Talking of shit, we now have the blonde posh twat as our glorious leader. Regardless of his politics, I hate being represented by such a scruffy, fat, privileged knob. Is he actually trying to be a Trump looky likey? The mind boggles.
 In the meantime, Malcolm waits for dinner and Keith admires a biscuit.