My Life As A Dog

Not Literally
After all, I wouldn't be able to type then, would I?
     Or - maybe I would, if I were trained to hold a bamboo skewer in my mouth in order to hit one key at a time (in which case this photo finally makes sense):

Woof.  Also, Arf.

     "Blimey!" I can hear you retort.  "We thought the senile old crackpot had given up drink?  This sounds like he's been at the cooking sherry since daybreak."
     Yes, THANK YOU for your support of my sobriety.  I bring this title and topic up because of a bizarre screenshot I discovered from several days ago, viz:

    Before I explain the background to this, I'm going to make a pot of tea.  Back in a minute - 
 - actually rather more than a minute, got caught up with food prep and dish-washing.  Where was I?  O yes Conradog.
     Me, as a pug.
     Funny, I always pictured me as a canine along the lines of either a lovable old Labrador, big fat and happy - until you steal his chew-toy in which case he becomes a howling ball of rabid fury - or an Alsatian-husky mix, silent and inscrutable but with Very Big Teeth.

The JAGged Edge
Ah, there you go, Conrad, unable to resist a pun.
     If you are familiar with the past of this blog, then you know that one of Conrad's guilty pleasures is the television series "NCIS", and because it is 13 years old then some of you out there are watching it, too*.
     However, I bet you don't know how it evolved, do you?  Conrad does.
     "Gosh!  the production life of an obscure South Canadian television series.  We are underwhelmed," I hear you say, and I hear you shifting and shuffling.
     SIT BACK DOWN!  

Close enough

     A recent practice in South Canadian television series is to introduce a spin-off in the parent series.  "JAG" was, and still is for all I know, a successful prime-time series about the "Judge Advocate General"'s office, in other words lawyers in the US Army (and Air Force?  Dunno.  Not really bothered).  Yeah, yeah, another variation on the legal drama that our trans-Atlantic cousins devour.  NCIS came about as a result of two spin-off episodes of JAG.

The Lemonade I Made
As you surely know by now, your gifted author is a swine for guzzling lemonade and fizzy drinks in general, and thanks to his habit of reading the ingredients label, is aware that even at best in the highest quality Cloudy Lemonade available, the % of real lemon is very low.  Not even 5%.
     So, behold!

     This is merely water, sugar and three lemons, with a bit of blending and squeezing.  I did use a 50cl bottle of sparkling water to add a bit of fizz, although this had all but gone by this afternoon.  I suspect you'd need to consume it shortly after bottling to enjoy the carbon dioxide hit.

Conrad: New Year Predictions
Here's one I made earlier: "Ah the morning lie-in! Now for ice cream, giant pot of tea and the cat sitting on my books"
     Proof that I know what I'm blathering on about:

Jenny!  You cow!

     I wonder.  Is she trying to tell me something?  
     "I think your taste in literature is that of an affected pseud.  Plus, you have horrid scratchy handwriting."
     Ah what the heck.  I'm not worried.

Conrad Is Worried
I don't care if I contradict myself.  Whose blog is it?  Precisely.  What are reason and logic?  Exactly: surplus to requirements.
     When I say "I'm worried" I don't refer to my taste in music.  Apparently one of the risks of getting old is "Val Doonican** Syndrome", where one manifests a taste for crooners and cardigans.

    Here are but some of the CD's thoughtfully put aside for our road trip to Robin Hood's Bay***.  Not a rocking chair in sight.
     No, I mean I am worried about my propensity for reading detective fiction.  I started off on the most hard-boiled of hard-boiled, James Ellroy, then via Christopher Fowler and his essence of London novels and finally I've ended up watching Poirot.  And, to my shame, Miss Marple.
     I can see where this is going to end, back where I began at age 10: The Hardy Boys.

Woof Woof^!

* I like to spread the blame around.
** A thoroughly decent chap who doesn't deserve to be traduced in the pages of this blog.  Sorry, Val.
*** Which I was NOT ALLOWED TO PLAY!
^  A line from Oddball in that classic war film "Kelly's Heroes"