It's finally hot, but unfortunately it's also raining, so not very pleasant at all. Especially here at work, it's stifling.

Bertie was all droopy with post-holiday let-down syndrome today. Plod plod plod around the usual routes, nothing interesting or new to look at. Rain. Heat. Blah. The roads were busy and we had quite a wait to cross the road by the supermarket. Instead of eagerly straining to be off down the railway walk he stood limply at my side like a greyhound-shaped rag. Eeyore, the scabby donkey. Speaking of which, the vet called back and the first test has come up negative for ringworm. Which doesn't mean he doesn't have ringworm. The next test result will be another month. In the meantime we're going to pretend it is ringworm. He'll have tablets for two weeks, and if it's clearing up, then for another two weeks. If not, it's really not ringworm and he'll have antibiotics for a bacterial infection.

Coincidentally today I noticed another patch, on his neck. That's five altogether, from an original two. Blech.

I just Googled it (I love the internet) and found that ringworm, tinea, jock itch and athlete's foot are all the same thing -- a fungus. I was surprised about the tablets, but I guess the cream is poisonous. Anyway, I hope it works, because he's getting really scabby looking, and I'm worried about catching it myself.

Bertie and I are back from a thrilling visit to the farm. Bertie is shattered from all the excitement, he's been sleeping pretty much the whole time since we got back.

I took him for a pee walk this evening and on the way back collected stuff from the car. When I opened the door to get my camera, he climbed into the back seat and wouldn't get out!!!! He got so used to climbing into the car over the past few days, and there was always somewhere exciting at the other end of the journey. We went for several long walks every day, mostly to places where he could run like blazes -- gigantic gardens! whole fields! enormous beaches! endless forests! There were cats everywhere, fascinating smells, even new animals (cows ... very scary). Everyone was lovely to him and he was patted and petted and praised from one end of Nairnshire to the other. To cap it all off, this afternoon he and Andrew had a hectic game of football.

Oh, and I had a nice time too.

So then I came home from the farm tonight and got my computer out of its box and yes, it does work. Last week when I got it back I plugged it in and it didn't work. So I took it back to the shop on Friday morning, the day I was going up to the farm. And the wee man just flipped it out of the box, plugged it in and it went. He wasn't too nauseatingly triumphalist, but still. They'd had to wipe the hard drive and replace loads of stuff so I had to reinstall everything & it was a palaver to say the least. I didn't have time to set it all up before I left on Friday so I did it tonight.

Now I'm going to bed, because I'm now just as shattered as Bertie.

Sound of Dunedin This bookmark is for the origins of something called "The Dunedin Sound" -- sample headings The Joe Brown Empire, Bodgies, Widgies, Teddy Boys and Milk Bar Cowboys, A Rattray Street Reminiscence, The Titans: Kings of the Bible Class Circuit.

Anyone my age or a little older will be flipping out right now.

Bad Dog! Bad Dog!

Last night after our walk Bertie was whining and pacing around, so I let him out the back door into the garden. Bad move. He jumped the fence and shot across next door's back yard to rummage in the hedge looking for a way to get at the geriatric cats. It was 2am, so I was loath to yell, and whispering "come here" had zero effect. In the end I tricked him into coming by appearing to walk away down the alley. Possibly also a bad move in the long term, since up until that minute he didn't seem to have clicked that the whole world is open to him once he's jumped the fence.

Anyway in the short term it worked, and I dragged him back into the house. Without speaking to him I went straight upstairs to bed, shutting my bedroom door behind me. I could hear him crying piteously, but ignored him.

In the morning he was transformed into a very, very good little doggie, eager to please in any way possible. I'll have to try teaching him to do housework. I've abandoned the extending lead & expected some manic pulling, but he walked at my side sweet as can be. He obeyed every order. Most miraculous, when we emerged for the afternoon walk he deliberately turned his head away from the house where the cats live -- looking over there is something I'd been forbidding loudly.

Tomorrow we have an appointment with the vet -- possible outbreak of ringworm or similar, ewww!! He has a couple of raw, scaly patches on his face and now there's one on his leg. Bet he caught it off that hedgehog.

Today I'm back to my usual hours of work, 4.30pm to 1am. The past few days I've been doing 11.30am to 10pm, which means I had to get up at around 8am in order to dawdle over breakfast for an hour before walking the dog and having a shower. Saturday I had to get up early as well, because of going to the fair. So today was my first chance to sleep in and make up the sleep deficit.

I woke up at 6am and couldn't get back to sleep. Even Bertie wasn't interested in being up that early. Right now I'm sooooo tired.

It was good though, having so much time. As well as all the usual stuff, I backed up my computer, unplugged all the peripherals, fetched its box from the loft and packed it nicely ready for the trip back to the shop. Made the trip to the computer shop at a leisurely pace -- just as well, because the traffic was abominable -- then collected the film that had been ready since last week and visited the pet supermarket for snacks, treats and a new collar. I've put Bertie's tags on this collar, a thin loose one, so if he pulls out of his regular collar while out and about, he's still got my phone number.

Back home I had plenty of time for another dog-walk and a shower before work.

Great news tonight! Liz and Ken are engaged. Sweet! I must get one of those digital cameras, the close-up detail of Liz's ring (and fingers) is stunning.

Busy busy busy. Mainly with work -- looong shifts doing the boss's job -- and dog-walking. The dog's in bad odour at the moment, having seriously monstered a neighbour's two cats. I had previously thought there was just the one cat, they're both black and white and fluffy. I patted one once and it was so terribly thin I was concerned for its welfare. But on taking the trembling survivor home after Friday night's attack I discovered that not only does it have a thyroid condition, it's 19 years old. Nineteen. That's 133 in dog years. The other one is 12. No wonder Bertie can get them bailed up -- it's like Sebastian Coe chasing the Queen Mother.

I went to the Traquair Fair yesterday, to meet up with Richard and his family who are up from England on holiday. It's the most laid-back event I've ever been to -- hippy heaven, with tipis, vegeburgers, folk music, alternative healing tents and at least four aromatherapy stalls. I realise now that I have the word DEADLINE running through me like a stick of letter rock, with hurry up! in smaller type.

It was lovely -- it's a beautiful setting, an ancient house surrounded by hills and forests, and there was lots going on -- but heavy showers of rain spoiled it somewhat. It was great seeing Richard again, and I also bumped into other people I hadn't seen for ages, so all in all it was fun. I bought some essential oils (Rose Maroc and Clary Sage) and a colourful little bag for my CD walkman thing. No dogs allowed, so Bertie had to stay home.

For reasons far too complicated to go into here, last Wednesday was a washout and I didn't get to take my computer in to the shop. I've been working all the hours since then, so I'll probably get it in tomorrow or Tuesday. It'll maybe take them three days to reinstall Windows, if that's the problem, or replace the modem.

Must get on with my work now.

The heat, the heat ... it must have been nearly 70F out there today. That's 21C for kiwis. And the sun was shining and everything!

Yesterday (Monday) I checked my strawberry plant and the first one was just on the cusp of ripeness. Mmm, pick that tomorrow, I thought. Hah! First thing this morning the strawberry, luciously ripe, was lying half-eaten on the ground. Bastard wildlife. I'm making a new shopping list: BB gun, slug pellets, slingshot, electric netting ...

Bertie can't cope with heat, but he's not as bad as the spinone we often meet out walking. He's a mountain dog, used to cool climes. Today when his owner and I stopped to chat, the poor thing sat panting under a tree, in grass still cool and wet from last night's rain. Bertie stood panting in full sun -- he likes the limelight even if it is uncomfortable.

I cleared a few long outstanding chores today which felt quite good. Loads still to do however, and I've gone and arranged a lunch date for tomorrow, my one day off.

What a day today, whizzing around madly from pillar to post and back again. Work was restful by comparason.

One of my appointments was with Calum, my lovely dentist. Over the years his skill and clean pinkness have completely cured my phobia about dentists. I can almost relax in his chair, knowing he'll only hurt me a little bit. Today I had a root canal filling -- he'd cleaned it out and dressed it last week and finished it properly this time. No anaesthetic because the nerve was dead, so no rubber lips and no painful reawakening of nerve endings. Plenty of pain in the old wallet though -- £115, ka-ching!

It's raining. It's cold. Sigh. Saves the effort of watering the garden I guess. Sigh. We never did get that heatwave ...

Terrible words to hear while filling my trolley at Tesco:

"Would the owner of the white greyhound please come to the customer service desk."

I whisked down to the front of the shop where sure enough, through the plate-glass window, I saw Bertie -- collarless -- run past looking anxious. I parked my trolley and dashed out. People were looking on in amazement as Bertie ran back and forth in front of the windows, scanning for a familiar face or a way in. He came to me quite meekly though, and I tied him up, fastening his collar with an eye-bulging tightness.

At least he didn't try and head for home -- traffic was pretty heavy yesterday afternoon.

He's never backed out of his collar before, though I've been aware that it's getting looser as the leather stretches. They have such tiny heads for their neck size it's hard to get the collar tight enough without making it uncomfortable. One thing I'm going to do for sure though is to get a thin, looser collar for him to wear his tags on. That way if he does escape from the leash he'll still have ID (apart from the microchip).

This week is going to be madly busy workwise and I only have Wednesday off. Tomorrow is used up with appointments so I won't get to tackle my computer grief until Tuesday at the earliest.

We're supposed to be having a heatwave. It's blistering everywhere else in the country, but here it's just ... warm. Right now (11pm) I'm actually cold, I've got a T-shirt on and wish I'd brought a sweatshirt or something with me. Some heatwave. Huh.

OK, so quickly: Monday I trailed all the way to the Post Office with all the documentation needed to pay the road tax only to find I'd taken the wrong MOT certificate with me. Grinding of teeth. After that, I don't know ... I think I took Bertie to Blackness for a run and cooked a nice ratatouille for dinner. I'm sure I must have done something else ... oh yes, I remember, I broke my computer.

Tuesday: Lunch with Anthea, followed by a trip to the dentist for a root canal filling. Lunch was delicious -- warm squid salad at Sweet Melinda's in Marchmont, and the dentist wasn't too bad. The nerve was dead anyway, so I didn't need an injection and my jaw wasn't aching afterwards.

On the way home I stopped at Homebase and bought a strimmer. Got home and foolishly didn't change my clothes before trying it out. I had no idea strimming leaves you plastered head to toe with shredded weeds and bits of whatever gunk is lurking amongst them. What a cool piece of equipment though! Vroom! Zing! After strimming I mowed, so the lawn looks almost decent now. Next I have to strim the front of the house. Yee haw.

So that was that. Not very exciting, eh. But I love it. I'm soooo sad. Sigh.

Week after next I've decided Bertie is ready for another trip up the learning curve. We're going to the farm. This is my friend Andrew's parents' farm, up near Nairn. They have 12 cats and 100 cattle. Yes indeedy, he's in for a few surprises up there.

I won't have time to update tonight, maybe tomorrow. Tsk, I'm really falling behind.

Well I have busted my new computer! That didn't take long, did it? It's not completely busted, just the modem doesn't work any more. I suspect a software glitch rather than physical meltdown, but it's a bugger either way. It means no online work at home, so I have to do it all at work. It's expensive too -- it forced me to spend an hour on the phone today talking to Pinky, 10,000 miles away.

I won't have time to even talk to the techies at the shop until next week, so I'll have to be disciplined until then.

So ... my days off. Saturday: Went to the auction, which was lots of fun. I didn't buy anything, though I had to sit on my hands to stop myself bidding for crates of useless stuff, just because it was so cheap. Hundreds of beer glasses going for a song! (The hitch there was you didn't get to pick them up until Sunday, after the big closing-down party. You could conceivably end up paying £10 not for hundreds of beer glasses but for six chipped sherry glasses.) They had a big screen set up and showed slides of the various lots as they came up.

The varied list of stuff on sale attracted a very mixed crowd -- locals, dealers of every stripe, gawpers, collectors, all sorts. We were not big spenders, however, and the auctioneer got quite ratty. "Fifty pound to start. Forty. Thirty." Long pause. "Ten pound! Come on! Ten to start." Another pause. "What's the matter with ye? Five pound then, who'll give me five? No-one? Surely... come on, this is a bargain." I like the eccentric ways a bid can develop -- it starts out like that, with the auctioneer working back from £50 and finally getting a £5 opener. Then someone else raises it to £10, and there's a little rush of bidding and suddenly the price is back up to £50.

The pictures I wanted turned out to be prints rather than oil paintings, but still went for quite a high price. I wouldn't have minded paying what they went for, but if I'd joined the bidding they would have gone higher; bidding was brisk. The ship prints were more complicated: there were several lots of a pair each, and the winner of the first lot had an option of buying through, of buying the rest at the same price. They didn't want them all, so there was renewed bidding for the next lot, and the bloke who got that pair did take the rest. The model ship: well, I looked the name up on the internet and found you could get a new one for $29.99. It sold at the auction for £30, plus 10% buyer's premium, plus VAT. Not a bargain. The carpet in the ladies loo went for £10.

After just two hours at the auction (not even halfway through) I staggered out faint from the heat and airlessness of the room, collected Bertie and zoomed off to Blackness for a romp. It was high tide, a very high high tide, water was sloshing and crashing up on the sea wall.

Bertie again showed why we humans are in charge. See the water at the top of the wall, I think "Boy, that must be quite deep." Bertie thinks "This water is only a couple of inches deep" and plunges in. He was so surprised. And then of course he had real trouble getting out. On a dry day he's free with a single mighty bound, but with water up to his chest it took him a few clumsy, lurching goes to jump back out on to the grass.

Watching all this was a female greyhound, on a lead. Shaking himself off, Bertie hurried up to say hi. And HELLO, baby! "She's still a little bit in heat," explained her owner as Bertie investigated delicious smells. Sadly she wasn't interested AT ALL and told him so with a snarl. He took off at a full sprint, presumably to show her what she was missing. He's such a dorky teenager sometimes.

Sunday: Spent most of the day in the front garden, weeding, weeding, weeding. There's some ghastly weed taking over the front garden and lawn and I don't even know what it is. It's feathery, a bit like an asparagus fern but juicier, and the whole thing's segmented, so when you grab hold of it, it falls apart. Every last little bit that falls on the ground grows into a new plant. The roots are segmented too, so you can't dig it out without sieving all the soil. It's everywhere. Meanwhile on the other bed, along the wall, the convolvulus was regaining a foothold. Its alternative name is "devil's guts", because of the root system. Again, almost impossible to get rid of.

Hey, it's time to go home! I'll have to finish this tomorrow. If I get time ...

Amusing incident from this morning's walk: I was walking along the pathway that cuts through the meadow and heard the drumming of Bertie's feet behind me. Knowing he likes to sprint right past, I sidestepped to let him by.

I sidestepped the wrong way and he slammed into the back of my legs at full speed. We were both pretty surprised, but there were no injuries.

I went down to Hawes Inn[warning: link has irritating popup advert] today to the auction viewing. It was quite odd -- the bar was still open, but they had been running the stock down for so long there was almost nothing left. "A Becks then." "No, sorry, there's none left." "Coke?" "No." And so on.

And everything had a little numbered sticker on it.

The variety is mind-boggling. Some samples of what's on offer:

Lot 36: 2 X REPLICA FLINT LOCK PISTOLS
Lot 52: 9 LITRE H20 FIRE EXTINGUISHER
Lot 186: DARTBOARD, CABINET & SPOTLIGHT
Lot195: 1 X LARGE SHIPS WHEEL
Lot 209: APPROX 21' OF BRASS FOOTBAR
Lot 465: CURTAIN IN ROOM 19
Lot 599: LENGTH OF STEEL CHAIN AT FRONT OF BUILDING

Things I'm interested in:
Lot 311: FRAGATO SIGLO XVIII MODEL SHIP
Lot 313: 4 OIL PAINTINGS OF HIGHLAND SCENES
Lots 441-447 PR OF NAVAL PRINTS

The oil paintings are lovely -- small, romantic Victorian views of lochs and glens and bens, with sheep and long-horned cattle dotted picturesquely about. The naval prints aren't ships-at-sea paintings, but line drawings as if for a technical manual, showing all the rigging and specs. Most are sailing ships, but some are WWI warships, the Dreadnought and such. Very nice. They're all bunched together though. I think whoever buys the first lot gets the rest at the same price.

Registering didn't cost anything so I went ahead, and I've got a number to flash at the auctioneer. I doubt I'll end up buying anything -- there were a lot of dealers there today making copious notes, I don't think us amateurs stand much chance against them. It'll be interesting though.

Things you would have to be mad to buy:
Lot 19: CARPET IN LADIES TOILET
Lot 453: 7 PRS OF BURGUNDY CURTAINS IN PUBLIC BAR

And finally, from the STORE ROOM AND BACK OFFICE:
Lot 551: REALISTIC KAREOKI MACHINE

This is the Hawes Inn, right at the foot of the Forth Bridge in South Queensferry. Robert Louis Stevenson stayed there. It features in his novel Kidnapped, in fact I think he might have written some of it there. The inn -- pub, restaurant and hotel -- milks the connection for all it's worth. For example the tables have glass tops covering montages of pages from Kidnapped, pictures of RLS and other mementos, and there are big portraits outside of characters from Kidnapped.

It's historic, right?

Well apparently the new owners, Bass, are going to revamp it and make it a theme pub. Uh, I'm sorry? What theme is that? Oh, a "Vintage Inns" theme.

The Evening News says: "Within months, the pub's Victorian graffiti will be erased and Stevenson quotes on the walls will vanish, making it a mirror image of other Vintage Inns around the UK - which are all decorated with fake antiques and new wood distressed to look old."

On Saturday they're auctioning off all the furniture and fittings, so I'm going down there tomorrow for the viewing, see if there's anything worth bidding for. Happily the local museum got wind of all this early and managed to persuade Bass to donate a bit of history: a collection of mariners' badges given to the pub by sailors over the years.

The pub also features a collection of foreign money -- notes from all countries imaginable are stapled to the walls all around the bar. I wonder if they'll auction that. Can you auction money?

Frustrating sort of day

Just as it got hot and sunny, I was called in to work early. But by the time I got there the panic was over and I needn't have been early at all. Hmm.

Anyway I spent a bit of time shifting my stereo to a better spot, in the course of which I discovered that the radiator in the corner of the living room had been leaking quietly on the new floorboards. Yes, the boards that were only recently relaid after the Great Day-Before-Hogmanay Flood of 2000. They are slightly buckled in the corner, but you can only really notice it if you're crouched down with your head in the corner. And the beading is all soggy too. My solution -- based on a hazy notion garnered from something a gas fitter said once about the heating system in my old flat -- was to turn on the bathroom radiator. And I'll call in the gas people next week -- I've got a service contract.

How I noticed the leak was that I picked up the trailing end of the extension cord to unplug the stereo and it was all wet. No, there was no explosion. Phew.

After shifting the stereo I couldn't listen to it to see if it sounds better over there by the TV, because the shelves have a solid back and the stereo's cord isn't long enough to reach the extension cord's outlet from the front. The tidiest solution is to cut holes in the backboard of the set of shelves for all the equipment -- stereo & video power cords, speaker cords, aerial cable in and out. This will involve taking the whole kit and kaboodle down, marking the holes required carefully, drilling them, taking plugs off the power cords, poking the cords through the holes and rewiring. Unless of course I drill holes big enough for the plugs as well. How? Erm.... dunno. A trip to Homebase threatens. I should do it properly, because I know how satisfying that would be. No More Ugly Trailing Wires.

While I'm at it I could also tack the TV aerial cable up around the french doors rather than leave it trailing across the doorway.

Why do we have to have wires and cables anyway? Why isn't everything space-age?

All the modern age has brought us is a squillion more devices that need plugging in. Most of the rooms in my home have one of those four-gang extension cords, full. The computer and peripherals use a six-gang board. Even the phone has a power cord (as well as the phone jack), ditto the answering machine, and of course then there's the modem upstairs with its miles of cable to the jack point in the bedroom. And it's still not enough -- I've got an electric lawnmower that requires a great long extension reel, which I also use for the iron.

There is no plug at all in the bathroom, so electric-shaving visitors have to depilate elsewhere. (There are a couple of mystery switches in there, one near the ceiling and another outside the door. I have no idea what they're for.)

What I should do is bite the bullet and call in the experts, get an electrician to put in a couple more circuits, pepper the walls with outlets.

What I really want though is infra-red linking and cold fusion, a fuss-free power source that shrinks electrical equipment down and no messy wires. Then you could have a antique-looking house, lush and comfortable, with the hi-tech toys tucked discreetly away. I'd like a TV that was like a swivelling door panel, for example. Computer in my handbag.

All this stuff I expected to be here by now, we were promised it in the 60s. Mind you, a lot of it I don't want -- I don't even want a microwave, let alone one of those ghastly Star Trek replicators, burping out Telaxian dainties, and filthy as I am I don't want a robot cleaning my house. I certainly don't want a fridge that orders your food for you. Some of it I thought I didn't want but now I do -- a watchphone, yes please.

Went to the movies last night, saw Together, which I highly recommend. It's set in a hippie commune in the 70s, and is excruciatingly accurate -- I was amazed to see how like 70s NZ hippie communes the Swedish one was! Some of it was funny, sad and painful all at once. One of the things I liked about it was that it showed most children as being naturally "straight" -- they hate being embarrassed by "wacky" adults; they like routine and to fit in with their school friends. The communards seemed much more immature by contrast, sleeping around and bickering pointlessly.

A sample scene: the new boy in the commune has a box of Lego. Tet (named after the Tet Offensive) sees him playing with it. "Is that real Lego?" "Yes." "My father was going to carve me a Lego set, but he only made two blocks."

We also had a slap-up meal at Black Bo's, a wonderful vegetarian restaurant. Everything was delicious. I've never had a duff meal there, it's always superb, and last night was no exception. Yum.

The weather seems to be clearing up a bit ... there was quite a bit of blue sky this afternoon and it wasn't raining too hard this morning. I really need to get out into the garden this week so I hope I get some fine mornings.

Busy busy busy. The weather is so crap that even I'm bugged by it. I honestly don't mind the Scottish climate at all, I prefer a summer that's not too hot. But this morning as I was walking the dog, parka fully zipped, hood up, hands in pockets, I thought -- this is not good. This is bad. In May I was enjoying eating breakfast outdoors; now the sandal tan lines on my feet are fading. It's cold. It's wrong.

Bertie loves it though, he likes braking hard from a full sprint on wet grass -- wheeeee!

And the garden of course is doing well with the regular downpours. The alleged blackcurrant bushes have fruited -- and tada! they are raspberries. Big fat ones. I have to race the birds for them. I also found wild strawberries up under the bridge, they are delicious. Tiny, like fairy fruit, and intensely flavoured. My own strawberry plant has flowered, so have the tomatoes. The weeds are growing like weeds, and the lawn's becoming a lush meadow, too wet to mow.

Major, major achievement today: I got stuck in and tidied the study. It was a total mess, cluttered with stuff, a ghastly glory hole where important documents had crawled away into corners to die.

One of the important documents turned out to be my car's current MoT. Yes, current! I'd thought it had expired in August last year, but today I found the one that expires later this month. Phew.

Now the study is lovely and tidy, all the important documents stowed away, the CD-ROMs and floppies sorted and stacked, pictures and posters hung. I even cleaned the windows. Fab.

To celebrate (and also because the sun had finally come out) I drove Bertie to Blackness. It was hotching with people and their pets, all rushing out to soak up the sun after all that haar. Bertie disgraced himself thoroughly, barking wildly at little children, even chasing one poor boy. Luckily the boy wasn't freaked out, even when he fell over and Bertie was barking right in his face. I was mortified, because I couldn't catch him -- he was out of control. Something Must Be Done. If it was my kid and someone else's dog I would have been punching the owner, just as well Bertie only monsters children with laid-back parents.

Back to work tomorrow, for two long hard weeks. My boss is away so I've got a few days coming up working in his stead, the end of next week. The rest of the time he's away will be hard because the sub's away too, his mother's critically ill in the US.

Forgot about last night's drama. I let Bertie into the garden at about midnight -- he was whining at the door -- and he rushed up the back and started barking. Not his usual "monster alert" bark, which is a tenor, but a deeper, more urgent tone. It means "gotcha!" and what he'd got was of course a hedgehog. By the time I got there it was almost all over. He was shaking the poor critter ferociously, snarling and growling, and whining too, because of course shaking a hedgehog to death is a painful business.

I managed to get him back into the house and calmed down from his killing frenzy -- he's quite scary in this state, because he uses all his considerable strength, he's pure power. Afterwards he was trembling and gasping, it took him a while to settle. The contrast between this dog and the one that cringes back from an armchair left out in the street is staggering. Real Jeckyll and Hyde stuff.