March 1997

Jemimas first visit to the beach was not Studland Bay. Rather less glamourously it was a shabby affair somewhere near Portsmouth. I was visiting an old college friend and was not at the stage where I spent my free time anywhere without the Dog. There was enough guilt involved with leaving her to goto work and leaving her at weekends was not on the agenda. So to Portsmouth Jemima and I went. I had intended to make her first visit to a beach somewhere ‘perfect’ but it was not to be. The beach was littered with all kinds of flotsam, litter and sharp stones and the water was a murky brown filled with loose black seaweed. It was calm though but the atmosphere was that kind of murky sunny affair that is neither cloudy nor clear. Still Jemima enjoyed herself and ‘performed’ as I had hoped according to my ideal – the usual tail between the legs looping and crashing through the water, spinning around and doing it again. There’s a lesson in life there perhaps. Still I’d rather not have been at that particular beach on that particular day for although the company was pleasant enough I felt that I was being hit on in a very subtle way. Yes the company was female but I wasn’t interested. The only girl I had eyes for had four legs and was covered in hair!