I was 10 when I got my pet dog. He was 6 weeks old, a true geordie mongrel from the cat and dog shelter in Newcastle. The most playful of the litter, I gathered him up into my arms and we went to a cafe to celebrate my canine birthday gift where he promptly threw up and we departed forthwith.
He was supposed to be called Bilbo but my Bro who was about 2 at the time couldn’t say puppy, but could say Muff or Muffy. The name stuck. No overtones of naughtiness in the name at all if that is where your mind has taken you.
What Muff gave me was an excuse to explore; the woods, the fells, the river bank, the tracks and lanes around where we lived in rural northumberland. I’d walk out one day, then go a bit further the next as i wanted to know was beyond that fence or steam. It’s purely supposition on my part in thinking this could have been the start of my desire to explore and have a bit of an adventure.
Boat life is our current adventure of choice and we’re getting closer to two longer sea passages again, the first from St Martin to Bermuda, then from Bermuda to Maine. We are on St Barts, about 20 miles south of St Martin. The guide book says even rich French and Americans tourists think it’s expensive here and I can vouch for that. We came here from Barbuda which is the polar opposite. No restaurants, no luxury goods just a few boys sat by the dinghy dock at 10am chewing the fat. (And drinking the rum). The photos above are of the anchorage. It was mostly blue. And stunningly quiet.
We always enjoy hearing about the adventures of our friends and family too. Becca and Chris are off in their camper van to Europe for a few weeks, Barbara and Julian are en route to the Med in their boat, spying pilot whales as they go, Al and Breezy are off to Borneo and Pete is getting his boat ready for a summer birthday trip around Scotland.
We will get another dog one day. Just not really the right time for us now.