Three Blue Pegs

I've eaten too much today - big breakfast of sausages, bacon, mushrooms, beans and thick granary toast. Skipped lunch, made up for that with a toasted teacake, almond croissant and large slice of the birthday cake that the lovely Sparkly had made for me (with token candles so as to avoid a fire-storm in Birlingham). Supper at the Dog (formally the Gay Dog - can't think why they changed the name) - pate, steak, apple pie, simple foods, well cooked.

There was live music, a Country & Western singer. Fortunately he held off performing until we'd finished eating so we were able to beat a retreat before our musical sensibilities were totally eroded. He had a great voice but it was coupled to a dire repertoire. Country & Western might sound grand in the US (although I have my doubts) but it definitely doesn't sit well in the Vale of Evesham; I'd rather listen to fifty seven tone deaf chimpanzees playing the viola, a troupe of dogs attempting the Hallelujah Chorus or French pop music. Anything without some woman called Jolene in it.

Anyway, three blue pegs on a line - none of them have had dogs that died, wive's who've run off with their best friend or their love taken to town.