That's a nail, not a panel pin....

Sunday, 8.30pm

Thought for the Day - Every screwdriver set contains at least three you will never use, one you will use once and one that you will use all the time before breaking or losing it

Pug Status - Barking at the bad singers on the telly

A very busy weekend - I am so cream crackered you could butter my head, coat it in cheddar and call me Jacob. I am now winding down with a lump of homemade blackberry crumble and the Sunday edition of The X Factor, which I must confess I am not that keen on. The sniggering audience, the nervous butterfly feeling, the ritual humiliation - it's just like my last medical....

I thought I was going to spend a couple of hours this morning helping my Dad put up his new shed- it actually took about six. It turned out to be the most complicated piece of construction work since Anne Robinson's last face-lift. There were three different sizes of screws, which we carefully sorted before we started and then I immediately mixed up again when I stood on the corner of the box. With just the roof left to put on, we found that some pieces were missing - this meant a trek to the DIY store to stand in the biggest queue since the break-up of the Soviet Union, alongside several hundred punters with heavily discounted end-of-season gas barbecues. One of the items missing was some of the waterproof roofing covering, and I didn't endear myself to the young female manager on duty when I strode confidently up to the desk and asked her "Where can I get felt in here?"....

Obi Pug Kenobi's lack of opposable thumbs meant she was unable to hold any tools or shed pieces for Daddy and Grandad, although she did a marvellous job of guarding the tea and, especially, the biscuits. Grandad likes to feed our Princess bits of chocolate fingers when he thinks Daddy isn't looking; it comes to something when your parents keep a special biscuit box just for the dog....

Pass that box of Mansize will you....

Thursday, 8pm

Thought for the Day - Never drink Diet Pepsi just after cleaning your teeth - it really hurts....

Pug Status - Hoping Mummy's tea-soaked digestive hits the floor instead of its intended target

Forgive me if I sound a bit like Nigel Slater (see yesterday's diary entry for an explanation) but there's nothing quite like the immediate aftermath of a good sneeze, especially if it was a real shelf-rattler. It's the anticipation before the event that I am not too keen on....

First of all there's the initial nose twitch, the 'slightly inquisitive rabbit' expression, where you try and shake the sneeze off at its early stage. If that doesn't work you go to the second level; the rolling of the nostrils, slight tilting of the head and the passable resemblance to Kenneth Williams in 'Carry on Camping'. Fail at this juncture and your sneeze is strapping on its ski boots and adjusting its goggles in preparation for the downhill run....

It's at this point where the sneeze feels like it's doubling in size every half-second; your eyes start to widen to, well, almost pug-size (sorry Princess!) and your only defence is to flap your hands around frantically like Al Jolson after three cans of Red Bull. You have a hankie in your pocket but your brain is wired in such a way that you will only begin to madly scrabble for it as you are right on the point of explosion - there's nothing for it but to shut your eyes, cover your face, and give it all you have....

Of course, you could just hold your nose at the initial 'twitch' stage - but where's the fun in that....?

Pug sneezes are a bit like novelty Christmas records; disturbingly loud, occur with rapid frequency over a short space of time and always leave you with a mild feeling of disgust. And Obi Pug Kenobi always seems to do hers at a set time during the day - which is whenever I happen to be cuddling her....

Pass a towel, anyone....

Be Still, My Beating Heart....

Wednesday, 8pm

Thought for the Day - If it's always in the last place you look, why can't you look there first?

Pug Status - Settling down for a pre-sleep and post-nap snooze....

It's fair to say that we love our pugs. Obi and puppy Bob are just like children to us. They cost us money, they cause us untold worry when they are out of our sight and you are occasionally amazed that something that small could produce such a horrible smell....

And, like children, they also don't tidy up after themselves. Not really too much of a problem you would think - BUT - I defy you to find anything more bowel-loosening than coming downstairs at 2am whilst still 75% asleep to water a small puppy and, in the pitch dark and deathly quiet of the living room, stepping hard onto a squeaky dog toy. If any of my neighbours found themselves being kept awake by a loud persistent noise last night I apologise now - it was my heart hammering against my ribs, mere seconds after I had peeled myself from the ceiling....

There's been a lot of talk in the press recently about NHS cuts due to money shortages but I think they could save a bundle by selling all those expensive defibrillator machines they use for shocking hearts back into rhythm and just buying a few plastic squeaky pork chops from the local pet shop. And, think of how many lives would be saved, and how many conflicts would be peacefully ended, if warring factions dug up minefields and just scattered noisy rubber bones and squeaking plush penguins in their enemies' path - well, it would be enough to make me surrender.....

There was some interesting items on the TV this evening but if Nigel Slater thinks that there's nothing more pleasurable than standing in his kitchen stirring a risotto then I suggest he should get out more - or, if this is euphemism for something, then perhaps he should find himself a hobby. There was also a discussion on another programme about when, and if, Armageddon would happen but I think some people were unduly worried - well, it's not the end of the world, is it?

Tuesday, 8pm

Thought for the Day - There will never be enough milk on the days you want cereal for breakfast

Pug Status - Tired after a long and interesting walkies

My least favourite household job today, cleaning the big oven on our range cooker. I was told to use a brilliant product called Oven Pride, which sounds to me like a huge carnival where cookers celebrate their love for fellow cookers....

I had Hertbeat on as usual, although I would say that listening to the Midday Cafe with my head in the oven was by no means a comment on Dawn's presenting style. I had one of those "chuckling to yourself" moments when the Herts Safety Camera Partnership ad came on - "It's thirty for a reason" the advert said, to which I replied "Let the reason be love". These moments are only cringe-free if you happen to be alone; a close relative of mine had a delivery job that involved visiting a security depot. The entrance was unmanned but there was a phone with a sign saying "Lift for Attention", and she always used to lift the entire phone and have a chuckle to herself before using the handset. This went on for a number of weeks until she spotted the camera above the phone and found out she was the morning entertainment for the office staff watching the monitor upstairs....

Obi Pug Kenobi's usual walk went a different route this afternoon. Some nearby trees have had all their branches chopped off, the arboreal equivalent of a skinhead presumably, and some people have taken to tying material round the trunks. I am not sure whether this is people protesting about the cull or perhaps another issue but they seem to have used a variety of different materials - apropos of nothing, as a protest song "Tie a Leopardskin Dressing Gown Cord Around The Old Oak Tree" doesn't really have the same impact....

"More Cheese Lad....?"

Monday, 8pm

Thought for the Day - Dogs will only want to go out into the garden when the back door is closed, and you've just sat down

Pug Status - Only wanting to go into the garden when Daddy has just shut the door

Another busy day. Relaxing in the front room with a small glass of Creme de Cassis, a blackcurrant liqueur, which tastes a bit like being mugged by a carton of Ribena....

In preparation for the new job, and daily commute to Oxford, we decided to get a reliable second-hand car so this afternoon I parted with a few pennies and got a little Fiesta. With its 15 inch alloys, tinted rear window and sporty bucket seats I have turned into the oldest boy racer in town, although I think having The Best of Perry Como blaring out of the sub-woofer on the way home was a bit of a giveaway....

I then made the mistake that I always do when I drive a different car. I pulled into the petrol station and couldn't remember which side of the car the petrol cap was. Rather than take the sensible route of checking the wing mirrors I went for the casual "I always drive this car" approach and pulled in at the nearest available pump which, of course, was the opposite side from where the cap is. After a few minutes of discomfort hauling the hose across the roof so the nozzle would reach I then did what I always do when I only have the exact money - went a penny over.....

Puppy Bob is going through a growth spurt - he seems to be entirely composed of ears and knee joints and this had led him to adapt a walking style almost identical to that of Gromit. I believe this is the equivalent of an 'awkward teenage stage' although he doesn't wander about with an iPod permanently inserted and moaning that he didn't ask to be whelped....

Just finished feeding our little horrors, not that it takes many minutes - pugs don't so much as ingest food, more inhale it. I like to think that they are just racing to admire their nice new feeding bowls - how naive I must be....

All About Bob....

Sunday, 9pm

Thought for the Day - Never try and set the time on a digital clock radio - it's far easier to wait until midnight and switch it off and back on again

Pug Status - Halfway through chewing a pig's ear

As a dog owner, I'm a very big fan of laminate flooring. Not only is it robust and waterproof (unlike carpet), you also have the ability to slide from one side of the room to the other at lightning speed, provided you have the right kind of socks on and are not carrying anything breakable or squashy.

There is a downside, though, if you happen to be house-training a young puppy, like Bob. Unless you catch said puppy red-pawed in the act, it is nigh on impossible to spot a puppy wee on a light-coloured laminate flooring. Giant chameleons in the rainforests of the Amazon have yet to perfect a camouflage as perfect.

There are only two courses of action that allow you to sniff out a rogue puddle, and neither is without its disadvantage.

The first is to go upstairs, put on a clean pair of socks (preferably white or light-coloured) and walk through the front room. Within three steps the predatory pool will have sucked into its cotton prey, leaving you to exit the room hastily, hopping and shaking the unfortunate foot like you're doing the conga with the Invisible Man.

The only other effective method is this. Upon entering the room you immediately drop flat with your head on the side, eyeballing the surface at floor height. You may look like an Apache Indian listening for buffalo on the Great Plains, you may also be unfortunate to end up with a wet ear if you went to ground in exactly the wrong (or, perhaps, right) place, but you will spot any stray Bob wee with unerring accuracy. And you will, with impeccable grace and feeling of dread, stand straight in it when you go to get something to mop it up with....

Who's had all the Coco Pops?

Thursday, 6pm

Thought for the Day - If you tell someone a cash machine isn't working, why do they always put their card in it anyway?

Pug Status - Playing Pirates on the living room furniture

I have something that needs to be said.

There's one advert on the TV that not only gets my goat it also feeds it, brushes its coat and sticks a pink ribbon on its horns. It's the one for Special K with the chocolate and fruit in it where the slim young girl (who looks as if a good steak meal wouldn't go amiss), has the late night munchies and goes on a hunt round the kitchen for a snack, and there's loads of post-it notes on the cupboards and biscuit barrel to direct her to the cereal.

Now there's a few fundamental problems with this. First of all, she is either supremely dopey, on in the first throes of Alzheimer's, if she can't remember where she puts her own shopping away. Or, given the luxurious nature of the flat, she has a maid who does everything for her and puts together a little game of 'hunt the cereal' for her much in the same way that you would exercise a lazy hamster with a wheel. Or perhaps she is actually a burglar, feeling peckish after lugging a 50" flat screen down eighteen flights of stairs, who has been lucky enough to raid a flat where the owner is so desperate to get rid of this box of chaff that she has actually left directions.....

But the biggest problem I have is that she is raiding the cupboards for a recommended daily serving of 30 grammes, as advocated by the company as part of a calorie controlled diet. Now, I don't know if you have ever weighed out that amount of cereal but, believe me, you would have to eat your breakfast with the aid of a telescope. And we are supposed to believe that she would rather forgo half a pack of chocolate hobnobs or a Double Decker for a portion of compressed grain that would barely sustain a small dormouse???? I can only assume they have edited out the last ten seconds, where we see her hurl the bowl into the night sky in anger and start desperately chewing the balcony....

And, as she settles down for the four microseconds it will take to ingest such a mere morsel of sustenance, I wager she hasn't got a greedy pug eyeballing her from a distance of six inches, begrudging her every mouthful....