As highlighted in my blog The Beagle With The Seagull, I recently re-homed a beagle hound. Six weeks of providing shelter, poop picking, feeding, and walking the capricious hound have taught me a valuable lesson… I should have rehomed a budgie!… Only kidding, I would not swap Bella for the world. Unless of course the budgie could predict the winning lottery numbers, teach me piano and locate my missing contact lenses.
Seriously, though, in this short period as her owner, I have learned living with this beautiful, affectionate dog comes at a price. That downside being she can’t predict the winning lottery numbers, teach me piano or locate my missing contact lenses!
Seriously, though (again), her drawback being her disobedience of commands when acquiring a strong scent mid-walk. Losing focus, under this scenario Bell’s acquiescence to requests are as likely as her predicting the winning lottery numbers, teaching me piano and locating my contact lenses.
More experienced Beagle owners will no doubt have a hack for dealing with these scenes. However, as a rookie owner of that breed, and currently bereft of a remedy, I merely wait for her to come out of the other end of this trance. Sometimes this distracted state lasts only a few minutes, on other occasions significantly longer canine reverie occurs.
Today’s walk witnessed a perfect example of her single-minded approach when following a scent, at the cost of all other distractions. While strolling amongst a bunch of Oak trees in a local park, the engrossed hound sniffing the redolence of a squirrel(s).
The acquisition of eau de rodent sending the beagle with the seagull into throes of giddiness, brio akin to my reaction upon learning of a 25% off wine offer at the local supermarket. Bella darting between each tree excitedly inhaling squirrel parfum at the base of each trunk. Looking up the hundred-foot plant where a group of squirrels looking down as if to taunt her.
As this played out, I imagined the rodent cabal goading the hapless hound with putdowns like “Stick to foxes, fatso!” and “You’ve forgotten your ladder numb-nuts!”
Anyhow, after around fifteen minutes of darting between trunk bases like a whirling dervish Bella came out of the other side of her trance. Subsequently, I was able to communicate with her once again to a point where she’d once again respond to my commands.
As an aside, it was a relief to witness Bella unfazed by the crescendo of noise borne from the multitude of fireworks raining down from the Ossett sky on Bonfire Night (5th November).
Laid on the sofa in the living room of my house, the furry madam was undaunted by the constant “Boom, Boom!” reverberating around chez Strachan’s largest chamber. Although she did ask me not to invite Basil Brush again next year.
Personally, I thought it was brave for old Basil to visit. After all foxes and beagles don’t often make good bed fellows. However, Bazza was right not to worry about a beagle attack; Bells gave him a wide berth throughout the evening despite the provocation of his terrible puns.
Anyhow, to celebrate Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes Night (as it’s known by people who call it Guy Fawkes Night), I thought I’d share a parody biography about Fawkes’ early adult years, leading up to the event where he gained infamy.
So, if you’re sitting comfortably, I will begin… If you’re not sitting comfortably a) I told you not to get those hedgehog skin cushions, and b) I going to start this unreliable historical yarn regardless.
Ordinarily, the hours leading up to Firework Night (or should that be Bonfire Night, or indeed Guy Fawkes Night) prove unremarkable moments for yours truly… This lack of an adrenalin rush not helped by wasting most of the day wondering whether the evening is called Firework Night, Bonfire Night, or Guy Fawkes Night.
Anyhow, I digress…
In 1591, at the age of 23, York-born Guy Fawkes converted to Catholicism. A major life event he followed by converting his garage into a fourth bedroom with en-suite bathroom and splendid views of the River Ouse.
At around this time, with fire in his belly after having to knock down his bedroom conversion due to planning permission breaches, along with censure for inappropriate use of the word flange, Fawkes fled England.
Fleeing his home for Europe, he fought in the Eighty Years War. Here he sided with the Spanish Catholics against the Dutch. Fawkes not returning home until the early 1600’s.
Tired after his exertions and with wig listing to the right, the rebel was irked to find a huge energy bill upon his return. This weighty demand a consequence of neglecting to turn off his immersion prior to leaving for the Iberian Peninsula nine years earlier.
Back in the UK, the rebellious catholic became a key protagonist in the Gunpowder Plot. Acquiring the nickname ‘Knives and Fawkes’ from the local village idiot, his role that fateful evening in 1605 was monitoring gunpowder storage beneath Parliament… That’s Guy Fawkes, not the village idiot. He stayed in York to guard the towns cheese knives.
Sadly, for the Yorkshire born rabble-rouser, he was caught red-handed in possession of the stockpiled explosives after a whistle-blower tipped off authorities about the plot. His arrest occurring during the army’s search of the Palace of Westminster.
He was initially arrested for gunpowder handling breaches. Incurring further wrath from authorities for health and safety misdemeanours, including not adhering to high visibility jacket and safety helmet edicts.
Additionally, Fawkes received admonishment for recklessly reading a book by match light while perched on a gunpowder barrel. His litany of crimes leading to being sentenced to be hung, drawn and quartered.
The convict, though, avoiding that method of execution after he could not be drawn due to parchment and pencil shortages at that time.
In the end Fawkes demise came courtesy of falling from the scaffolding where he was scheduled to be hung, dying instead because of neck fracture.
As he lay moribund, he whispered to the executioner “Tell my wife I bequeath her my high-visibility jacket… Oh, and mention I forgot to turn the immersion off again so expect another hefty energy bill.”
Since this historic night in the early 17th century, the anniversary has been marked by the burning an effigy of Fawkes on a bonfire, along with dark autumnal skies being illuminated by fireworks…… In his home city of York locals mark Fawkes’ notoriety by leaving their immersions on between 6pm – 11pm.
Disclaimer – If you are a student due sit an examination relating to the events spawning the UK’s 5th November ‘celebration’ please, please, please do not use this hooey as accurate historical reference.
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