I went out for a walk on Sunday and headed to the city centre to take in the sights: exciting, alluring, bizarre and extravagant in equal measures. There was music on every corner, pipers, improvised drumming on discarded boxes and empty containers, a fully plugged in four-piece belting out popular 90s covers and an octogenarian creating sweet music on a Nepalese nose flute. Okay, that last one I made up, but only because she wasn't at her usual pitch when I walked by.

Further along and it was acrobats forming a human pyramid, knife jugglers, street magicians and the usual miscellaneous collection of hawkers, all looking to empty the pockets of local and visitor alike with the hope of having impressed, excited, even mesmerised by their antics and exploits. They are more than happy now to take a contribution through debit or credit card, Paypal, or any other online payment process.

The town is bursting with festival participants, actors, performers, potential audience members and locals annoyed and impressed as is their want. But enough about the resurgence of the festival. Everyone is welcome to come witness the sights and sounds for themselves. I would encourage all of you to attend this entertainment bonanza.

I want to talk about the enormous responsibility which is involved in taking a pet friend or companion. Me and Daisy, or Daisy and I, have cohabited with the rest of my family for the past 11 and a half years. A family, or to be more accurate a household, that has diminished over time. My eldest lad, who has now been in London for a good few years, was recently joined there by our middle son. Added to that, my youngest boy has recently bought his own place and will be moving soon. Only around a half mile away this time, but still the outcome of this cannot be denied. My wife and I are becoming empty nesters. We have outlived our usefulness as providers and nurturers, and are releasing the last of progeny into the wide world. Scary stuff indeed, but not half as frightening as realising that it will now be the two of you, alone in the house, every day and every night, with only the occasional visitor breaking the monotony.

I have toyed with the idea of suggesting we create some cue cards to help stimulate conversation, or alternatively a 'what is left of the family book group', where we might conjure up some intellectually stimulating exchange of views or high-brow argument around the writer's motivation, sub-textual message or some other semantic exploration of the human condition.

We have naturally delved in to the smorgasbord of entertainment that is Netflix, where we have established the '10-minute rule' which is, if it is not doing it for us after that amount of time, it gets jettisoned. We have seen a vast number of introductions to films, box sets, acclaimed drama series and comedies, but witnessed far fewer entire productions.

Apologies. I seem to have veered off course there with the sudden deep and penetrating realisation of mine and my wife's potential future lives. I really set out to tell a tale about Daisy. Ah well, we can leave that till the next time. Unless my wife reads this and there isn't a next time.

Frank Eardley



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