Smelly dog, smelly dog...

Today's soundtrack:  Various Artists - American Graffiti

So, my fortnight off work edges towards its close and - inevitably - Catholic Guilt kicked in this morning.  All those things I was going to do, that hadn't yet got done - well, today was the day, I suppose.

Firstly though, it was off to the woods again with the dog.  Nice, crisp morning - and for possibly the first time, we didn't see a soul on our circuit of the forest.  In an attempt to liven up proceedings a bit, Archie found something rank-smelling beside the path, and decided to roll in it.  He looked suitably pleased with himself.  Rather stupidly, I rubbed the dark patch on his flank to see if it would come off.  It wouldn't, but it did succeed in transferring plenty of the smell from him to me.

I frowned down at the dog.

The dog grinned back.

"What?" that grin seemed to say. "I'm a dog!  This is what we do!  Woof!"

So homewards we went, dog, me, and this invisible cloud of rankness.

Luckily, we have a dog that is not averse to a drop of water.  Specifically, the shower.  So, upstairs we went.  Me, stripped to the waist.  Shower on.  Dog in shower.  Me, half in and half out of shower, desperately trying to get water onto the rankest bits of the dog.  All too soon, the dog realised that this was not a game and decided to stop playing - at which point he dived past me, into the bedroom, to get dry.  Which he did by jumping on the bed and rolling around until water, residual mud - and residual rankness - was transferred from him, onto the bed.

I love him really.

Next job - ironing.  I'd been looking at the pile of shirts in the kitchen for the best part of two weeks.  They were not going to iron themselves, were they?  No, Paul, they weren't.  I actually don't mind ironing, but I do have a tendency to let things pile up until, basically, I've nothing left to wear.  Which does make it more of a job than it should be.  Mind you, I did have a brand new iron to play with (the old one ended up in the skip on Monday) - which was nice.

Job done an hour or so later.  Feet up?  No - sadly, the sun was shining, and the grass was looking sufficiently dry to take a cut.  So outside it was to cut the front and back - hopefully for the last time this year.  It doesn't actually take too long, and with the help of my (also relatively new) Bosch, I was finished in about another hour.

Back inside, and with the kitchen floor swept and mopped, and the freezer emptied for defrosting, I was - finally - done with the chores.

*Smug face*

Most of today's jobs were done to a musical accompaniment - as are most things in my life, to be honest - and today we've been accompanied by the Oasis brothers, the Trash Can Sinatras, David Bowie and a suitably mucky compilation from the lovely drakeygirl (whose blog you should also read - link over there to the right).  I also listened to a great compilation of stuff by Tony Joe White, reminding me just how much I love that 'Swamp Rock' vibe.

However the soundtrack to today's blogging stint comes from the soundtrack to the film 'American Graffiti'.  I loved this film back in the day, mainly for the soundtrack, but also for its depiction of a way of life that was so unlike the one I was experiencing at the time on the wrong side of the Mersey.  Diners, great cars, bobbysoxers - what was not to like?

Watching it many years later, the film itself comes across as a bit 'slight' - but the soundtrack is still wonderful.  Loosely 'rock 'n' roll', but also with plenty of doo-wop as well, the music evokes the era at least as well as the film itself.

Here's the Del Vikings with 'Come Go With Me' - apparently one of the songs a young John Lennon sang to Paul McCartney on the day they met at Walton Village fete all those years ago...