Top 7 tips: What to do when you're feeling blue.

Sometimes in life, you feel a little bit sad. Sometimes you even feel a lot sad.

It's not nice when you feel sad. And I don't know what to do sometimes to cheer myself up!

So I thought I'd make a list of the top 7 Fox-rated things to do to cheer you up when you're feeling blue...

1. Have a cup of tea
The first step to feeling better is the essential ingredient of tea. I'm sure a scientist somewhere at some-point, really frustrated with his overly frothy test tube, had a sip of tea and thought: "By george! Eureka! My goodness! That's it!" And decided that a hot tea is the bestest for sorting you out.
So there you go. Scientifically proven.


2. Smile at yourself in a mirror
We didn't have mirrors in the wild, so when I came across one here I found it pretty weird in general. But if you pull faces at yourself in there, it looks so strange it just might make you smile!

3. Eat lots of cake (Without your Laura looking)

Laura says I shouldn't eat lots of cake because it's bad for me. BUT I think if you're sad, a top tip is to eat lots and lots and lots and LOTS of it until you feel very satisfied and a maybe a bit queasy. Then you can focus on the tastiness and queasiness instead of your sadness!
(But maybe run around the garden a few times and stock up on broccoli when you're feeling better).


4. Eat lots of biscuits (Without your Laura looking)
You really can't go wrong with eating!

5. Make best friends with your duvet
There's nothing like wrapping yourself up in your duvet until you look like a sausage roll. Then you could either pretend you actually ARE a sausage roll, and think about the taxing life of flaky pastry to distract you, or you could pretend your duvet is a big monster trying to eat you and the people of the world, but you fight it off to save the day and become a hero! Yay!

6. Dress your hoover up in big shoes, a floppy hat and a moustache until it no longer resembles a hoover
I really really really really REALLY don't like hoovers. And I don't want it sat there staring at me, looking like a hoover, when I feel sad. It would just make me feel even MORE sad. So you need to be very brave, and carefully sneak around the back of your local hoover (possibly dressed in an army or ninja-style fashion for full sneakiness) and cunningly disguise it so it is no longer a threat.


7. A HUG
Sometimes what you need more than anything in the whole world is a big old cuddle! So spread those arms, put down your tea, wipe off the cake crumbs, hop over in your duvet, give me a smile, and c'meeeeeerrrreeee....

GIVE US A CUDDLE!

Lotsa love,

Fox

The Uni Adventures: Washing machines

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Yup, that's right, I've never used a washing machine before. To be fair, I think I have a good reason - being a fox and all. I mean, we never used to wash clothes in the wild. Actually, we didn't even have clothes. Don't worry though, we have these natural fur coats to keep us cosy and covered up.

But when I went to live with Laura, over time I got given some stuff like a coat, scarf, gloves, PJs, and a teddy. So eventually the time came when they needed freshening up...

"Laura! Laura! Laura!" I called, sprawled out in my basket.

There was a doomp, doomp, doomp sound through the wall as someone thudded downstairs and pushed through the door, clutching three mugs and a bottle of milk.

"What is it, Fox?" Laura said, trying to balance the things in her hands.

"My clothes need washing - especially teddy, he's gotten a little bit muddy."

"How did he get muddy?" She sighed, leaning against the door.

"We were playing stuck in the mud." I said innocently.

"Well," She said, coming in and sitting on the bed, "I think it's time you learnt how to do this yourself. Do you remember what I taught you?"

I thought back to a day before we left, sat in front of the machine and listening to the instructions, and sketchily remembered:

1. Put clothes in the big bucket thing
2. Put in the soapy stuff
3. Press a button
4. Wait a bit
5. Get the clothes out.

Simple enough. Besides the fact I put too much soap in and didn't shut the door, so we came home to find a room full of water and bubbles. I tried suggesting we kept it that way, as like an indoor pond, but that didn't go down very well.

"Um, yeah..." I said, hopping onto all fours and grinning,  "...Yeah. Yeah! Yep. No worries. None at all. I'll sort it out!"

I threw my stuff in a bag and plodded off out the house, across the green and over to a building in the street opposite. To keep me company, I had put my headphones on and was listening to some music... And let me tell you, there's no feeling better than an automatic door opening for you whilst listening to a dramatic number from a musical!

'Why yes, washing machines,' I thought, gliding through the self-opening doors, "Fox is here. Fox has arrived. And yes..."

I clutched my bag of clothes and gave a far off look into the distance, singing out the first chorus of the song... "I dreamed a dream in time gone byyyyy... When hope was hiiiiigh..."

With a deep intake of breath and a dramatic sigh, I waltzed myself around the room, drifting in and out of tune and singing the gentle, emotional lines as they twinkled in my headphones: "There was no ransom to be paid, no song unsung, no grape juice untaaaa-sted..."

Until BOOOOM! The drums hit, and the dramatic last chorus hits, full of emotion!

I threw my clothes up into the air and fell to my knees. Throwing my head back, I howled with feeling in the loudest voice I could ever muster: "AND STILL I DREAM HE'LL COME TO MEEEEEEEEEEE! THAT WE WILL LIVE THE YEARS TOGETHERRRRR!"

I was so wrapped up in my performance, I hardly noticed the squeaking of the door. I leapt on top of a washing machine, grabbing the bottle of fabric softener to use as a microphone and belting out the last few notes: "SO DIFFERENT NOW FROM WHAT IT SEEEEEEEEMED, NOW LIFE HAS---"

"Um... Fox?" A voice cut through.

I jolted around to see a bemused looking Laura standing at the door, eyeing the dirty washing that was spread over the floor like a patchwork carpet.

"I.. er... I was just..." I stammered, clutching the fabric softener with the most innocent expression I could muster. "Just..."

Her expression wobbled and wibbled until out crashed a big, hearty: "AHAHAHAHAHA!"

I sniffed. "Well, you could at least be subtle about it. Not even a clap?"

She cleared her throat and marched over to me. With a grin she took hold of my paws and danced with me around the room, singing out: "We dreamed a dream of fresh laundryyyyyyy!"  tangoing us through socks and duffle-coats until we were dizzy.

Washing machines turned out to be quite good fun after all! I might clean more often...

The Uni Adventures: Raymond the house plant.

I don't know what it was that made me pick him up that afternoon shopping in Sainsburys... Maybe it was the way he was sat all alone on a shelf with a 50p label hanging from his stem. Or was it because of his vibrant green leaves and bright red cluster of flowers? ...Perhaps it was because a plant seems to make a house a home...

Whatever it was, when buying the week's food shopping with Laura that first month in September, something inspired me to reach for the little plant and take it home.

When we arrived back in the kitchen I reached into the carrier bag and pulled it out, presenting it to the others with a grand flourish and a flick of my tail.

"Tadaaaaa!" I grinned, plonking it on the table.

"What's that?" Ace frowned, poking at it with his paw.

"A plant! It livens up the place, don't you think?" I said, tilting my head.

 "It's pretty!"Lisa nodded in agreement.

Andy leaned back in his chair and raised his eyebrows. "Should we name it?"

This inspired a whirlwind of ideas, and we conspired for a good ten minutes before somehow resulting at the sparkling, blossoming, heroic title of:

RAYMOND!

"Raymond." I nodded, "Yup. I like that. 'Ray' for short. That sounds pretty cool, huh?"

"Just needs some sunglasses and he's set" Al grinned from his perch on the kitchen counter.

And there Ray the houseplant came into our odd little group! Over time his leaves drooped and crisped, Andy accidentally kicked him across the kitchen, Ace knocked him off the microwave, and Ray looked started to look very sorry for himself. The others shook their heads and doubted he would make it through the Christmas holiday, especially after we smothered him in fake snow, wound tinsel around him, and sat him in a paper Christmas hat twice his size.

But we returned from our break over December to find him flourishing beautifully! His plant pot became a storing unit, and whenever somebody had something that they wanted to share, they gave it to Ray. By the time summer hit, he had acquired a 5p coin, a flapjack, a pen lid, a piece of crossword and a Japanese bottle cap.

Still going strong, Ray has soldiered through the hard times of life and set an example for us all: It doesn't matter if you're kicked about a bit, you just need to wrap some tinsel around yourself, sit in some sunlight for 2-3 weeks and before y'know it, you'll blossom!

One Chilly Christmas Eve...

One Christmas eve, with the sun in it's slumber,
Up the starry sky the moon starts to lumber -
It snuggles in the clouds, tangled up from view
And falling from the night, is something kind of new.

Little flakes of white dance towards the ground,
intricate and beautiful, they fall without a sound.
Blanketing a woodland with a present from Jack Frost,
Within the folds of ice and trees, something's gotten lost.

Under the branches of a gnarled oak tree,
Is a splash of orange in the snowy white sea.
A little fox stands, gazes up to the skies,
Tears creeping up at the corners of his eyes.

His fur is matted with cold and ice,
He's shaking and shivering; it's really not nice!
The pink of his cheeks darkens to red,
And from his chilly lips, hardly one word is said.

He tries to call out: "Where am I?! Somebody? Please!"
...His voice carries away along the cold winter breeze.
He slumps into the snow and hugs into his tail,
And gives a heavy sigh as the snow turns to hail.

But suddenly, if luck would have it,
Something approaches, as if by magic....

Jingles sound from the world above,
As reins are wiggled by a leathery glove
And antlered creatures kick up their feet
To the sound of a carol's unmistakable beat.

A flurry of red dashes through the sky,
As 8 or 9 reindeer sparkle and fly
Pulling a sleigh with the greatest of ease
And, of course, the driver! Who chuckles with glee.
With his big round belly dressed in red,
Lined with fluff like the hat on his head,
A great fluffy beard and big black boots,
And over his shoulder: A bag full of loot.

The sleigh glides and jumps to the woodland below,
And slides very smoothly into the snow.
Old Saint Nick, (The one and only),
Steps out to the one who feels very lonely.

The critter looks up, startled and shocked,
With an: "Oh... er... Hello Sir! my name is Fox!"
The cub's ears twitch and his gaze hardens,
"Um, who are you Sir, if you beg my pardon?"

The old man before him stumbles in the snow,
Launching out a huge: "HO HO HO!"
He chuckles and giggles and shakes Fox's paw,
"Why, my dear lad, my name's Santa Claus!"

"Claus?" Fox says, "What a very odd name."
Santa nods and replies: "It's my pride and fame!"

Fox now asks (feeling less dire),
"And why, Sir, are you in such fancy attire?"

Santa replies, sticking out his lip:
"I need to keep warm, I'm on quite a trip!
I travel the world to send Christmas cheer,
And presents too, with the help of my deer.
I pop down the chimneys... Well, you know the rest!
That, my friend, is why I must look my best!"

Fox shakes his head, looking rather puzzled,
And takes a deep breath, itching his muzzle.
"I'm afraid I haven't even the foggiest!
This time of year is when I feel my groggiest!
'Christmas', you say? What does that mean?
This is the strangest sight I might've seen!"

Santa is astonished and furrows his brow,
"You mean to say, you've not heard of Christmas 'til now?!"
He paces the floor and flays his arms in the air:
"How could this happen! It's just not fair!"

He scoffs and grumbles, claps together his hands,
and crouches down to the floor of the cold woodland.
He tickles the snow with the point of his finger,
Until out of the ice a flame starts to linger.
It catches and spreads to a neat little shape:
A small fire alights the smile on his face.
He strides over to Fox, brushing away the hail,
Snuggles up close and tells the 25th's tale.

Fox sits back, really quite shocked,
He stops and shivers; feeling a sad little fox.
A time of love and laughter is Christmas day,
Cheer and merriment should come his way!
And instead he was lost as he took a wrong turn
On his way to the river, confused by the ferns.

But then Santa Claus scoops Fox up with glee,
And sits him pride of place, on top of his knee.
He looks Fox in the eye, says, beaming a smile -
"And what would you like for Christmas my child?"

Fox twitches his ears and thinks very hard.
And remembers from whom he has been apart.
He snuggles into the warmth of Santa's big tum,
Feels the beat of his heart going dum, dum, dum,
And remembers the nights, snuggled up to mummy
Cuddled up and warm by her fluffy ol' tummy.

"That's it!" Cries Fox, "I know what I'd like!
There's only one thing I wish for tonight:
My family, my family! For now we're apart!
And they are the key to warming my heart!
I don't wish for presents, I don't wish for toys,
I wish for my family; my greatest of joys!"

Santa gives a chuckle and cuddles young Fox,
Then he pulls up his sleeves and he pulls up his socks...

With a "Ho ho ho!" And a twinkling light,
Little Fox goes spinning off into the night!
Within the blink of an eye, he is tumbling alone,
Arriving right outside his very own home!

A large oak tree grows from flowers and shoots,
And Fox leaps into a gap between the big, gnarled roots.
He runs down tunnels that head underground,
Following the carols: That unmistakable sound!
He sees the glow of fire lighting the gloom,
And then is his own Christmas dream come true.
There they all sit, curled up as one;
His brothers and sisters, his dad and his mum.
They cry and they laugh, smiles on every face,
And all of the family locks into an embrace.

Laughter fills up the den and journeys outside,
Where the jingle bells sound on old Santa's ride.
His sleigh launches off to the stars above,
Now Fox's heart is filled with smiles and love.

And now off Santa goes to his next stop.
For presents and cheer, he must drop off.
All over the world, this wonderful teacher
Pops to the homes of people and creatures -
Presents will be waiting under the tree,
In a matter of hours, if you dream and believe.

The time I moved out of Laura's house!

Hello friends!

So, guess what!! I have big news!
And when I say big, I mean

BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGGGGG!

I am moving out of Laura's house!
We're off to the humble little town of Farnham to go to the University for the Creative Arts! Yayyyyy! Now, you might be wondering how I could get into University after that whole College-no-GCSE fiasco... But, lemme tell you, it pays to be a fox. You need some diversity in life, and I think having an animal studying in their midst is pretty diversical. But they rather liked my blog, and I get to sit in with Laura in her illustration classes and learn about lots of snazzy things, and lend a paw if she needs it. Plus, I still get to live with her! Yayyy! Otherwise its back to the wild for me! And I'd really miss my teapot if that was the case.

So, what comes before moving? Packing. And tidying. And packing some more. And then A LOT more tidying. And then some more tidying on top of that.

During our intense packing mission, Laura and me were in the midst of the dangerous task of clearing her room when a strange noise sounded. It was like the squeaker on a cuddly toy, but infrequent and varying in pitch. It sounded kind of sad or worried. We were pondering on whether it could be a mouse, but it just didn't seem like that kind of squeak.

So, Laura's dad was called to the scene like a superhero to a falling building; our protective detective. However, our 'Superhero' happens to be terrified of mice and frogs, or anything small and anonymous. He came up and stood in the doorway armed with a broom, listening intently. He craned his head out into the room, as far as it could go without him tumbling in. He strained his ears to try and deceifer the noise and it's location. Convinced, he walked across the landing and peeped outside the window, telling us: "It's outside. It's definitely outside."

But pffft, this attempted get-out didn't fly, and soon he was ushered back to the doorway. We backed out for a second to watch the master at work. And that's when the most amazing thing happened...

The day before, Laura had gotten a new phone, and the ringtone for it is a tuneful little whistle. After 5 minutes of intense concentration on her dad's behalf, Laura got a text. The phone - sat on the desk beside her dad's ear, merrily tweeted out it's little bleep. Laura's dad shot back, throwing his broom-gripped hands into the air, and stumbled backwards in the most comical fashion imaginable, landing with an 'oof!' in a pile of cardboard on the landing.

Ohhhh we laughed til' the tears rolled. A wonderful memory to leave home on.

The following day we packed up the car and Laura and I wandered around the house together, reveling in the sights and memories of it all. I clambered up into Laura's arms and she cuddled me close as we padded downstairs. After hugs and goodbyes with her mum, we made tracks to the car and pulled away, the wheels crunching along the cobbly drive and the house getting smaller and smaller until there was just trees, anonymous buildings and then the open road.

Two hours down the motorway, we pulled off down the turning to Farnham. Soon enough, after a little detour, the car chugged to a stop in a carpark over looking some of the buildings of the University. We tumbled out into the sunshine and popped to get our keys, where we met a second year student who took us to our house. We trooped through the heavy wooden door and up a double flight of stairs that are overlooked by huge wooden-framed windows that flood the room with light. We arrived at the door marked with a number 8, in went the key, and we took our first steps into our new home.

Safe to say, we weren't expecting much, but on first appearance the large brick walls, metal bed frame and bare mattress made it seem a bit like a prison cell. There was a sink, mirror and shelf in front of the door which was joined to an open wardrobe with draws underneath, which was all next to a wooden desk. A blue notice board sat on the wall above this, and a window was set in the wall folding out from that which was lined with red curtains and overlooking a beautiful green park and trees:

The view from our bedroom window

The view from our kitchen window, which is on the 2nd floor, is rather impressive too!

The view from our kitchen window

The house is set in a row of other houses that faces another row, with a patterned brick walkway in between, lined with grass and trees in front of each row, called the Student Village, which looks like this:

Another view from our kitchen window: The Student Village

After trooping back and forth with the luggage and unpacking, we strolled into the town to have dinner with Laura's dad. We had a lovely natter and a mouth-wateringly tasty salmon salad (yes, salmon). We then returned to the Student Village, had our cuddles goodbye and then watched the car roll away: All on our lonesome.

And the strange thing was, it didn't feel strange. It felt kinda natural.

Our room looks a lot homlier now too with the addition of posters, duvets, teddies, cushions and fairy-lights.

But there you have it - we're now all moved out! And so begins life at art school!

Yayyyyyyyyyyy!

All my love,
Fox

An extra masculine moment... Laura explains painting nails.

That is, the nails on your hand, not the wall. Humans are so confusing! There are so many words that are the same, but mean a zillion different things. Us animals just call them claws. Claw on your hand, nail in the wall. That's how it goes.

(Although, we weren't aware of nails in the woods of course... we used to use blue-tac to put our paintings up.)

So yes, nails.
Very peculiar, because Laura tells me that people paint their nails to make them look nice.
We were in town the other day and as I brought a packet of grapes, the cashier handed over my receipt and I just gawped at her hand.

"Why are her fingers blue?", I pondered aloud, and then, looking up at her with concern: "Are you cold? There are blankets on Isle 3."

But no, this is a very regular thing, apparently.

So, when we got home, Laura and her person-friend sat me down and explained.

"You see, it makes hands look nicer."
"But what's the point of that? They're quite nice as it is."
"I guess they're kind of creepy in a way... All spindly and stuff."

This discussion continued for about 20 minutes, on why people started doing this, until it was decided that they'd do a live display.

Laura's person-friend brought out a box of a rainbow of coloured varnishes, and spread out her fingers. Laura sat me on her lap, and gripped my paw with her hand as I held onto a varnish. Then, she guided me along her person-friend's nails, giving them the design of some handsome devil's beautiful chops...

.... ME!

Ironically, this was Laura's first attempt at painting nails too, so it took a very very very very long time for us to keep inside the lines, but eventually we got there.

We sat back and admired our handiwork.

"Well, that was..." I started
"Fun?" Laura asked.
"Uhm..." I thought, "Nope, no, I'm sorry. It's still bizarre."

Unfortunately our first attempt of varnishing ended up about a centimeter thick on Laura's person-friend's poor nails... So we had to resort to a hairdryer to dry them, and then discovered this was a bad idea when they trickled down her fingers in a Hulk kinda fashion.

After a busy hour, I decided to do something a little less feminine, so I headed downstairs and readied the teapot for a good brew and studied my paw, wandering if a nice shade of blue would go with orange fur...

A once in a lifetime event... I smashed my teapot. No, just kidding, its... THE OLYMPICS!

Theeeeee oooollllllyyyyymmmmmmpiiiccccsssss areeeee heeeerrrreeeee!
OLLLYYYMMPIIICCCSSS!
Right here! In Britain! THE OLYMPICS!! In our very own London!
How amazing is that? Right here. Here!
The Olympics.
A "once in a lifetime event!"
THE OLYMPICS!

...

Um, just bear with me a minute...

"Laura, what are the Olympics?"

*

Ah, okay, okay I'm all caught up; The whole world clubbing together every 4 years for loads of sporting events, coming to Britain for the only time we may be around to see it... That really is quite exciting! Wowee!

This is all making a lot more sense now.

A month or so ago the Olympic Torch, on its journey from Greece, actually passed through our little town! Quite a momentous occasion for little St. Ives! The only problem was how early it was coming through, but on the upside it was being lit at the bottom of our road, so we could practically fall back into bed.

I was sleeping peacefully at the foot of Laura's bed when the alarm went crazy at half 6. We dragged ourselves out of bed and up to the end of the road, where we knocked on Laura's relative Nicky's house - who lives just in front of where the torch would be. Laura's Italian relatives were also there, and we had a wonderful breakfast together of tea and croissants, a rather lovely affair.

By the time the torch arrived it was drizzling with rain, so we grabbed our umbrellas and headed out onto the road. A parade of lit up buses floated past, blaring out various radio stations, closely followed by some police motorcyclists, and then, the 'awaited' moment.

The streets were absolutely littered with people! It was incredible, and very patriotic. Everywhere was again decorated with Union Flag bunting and Olympic flags (which I thought were just nifty art deco), and crowds gathered as the bus of Olympic Torch bearers arrived.

Now, we stood on the road and saw the audience cluttering around one area, and wandered: 'Hmm, I wonder what they're doing?' And carried on standing there with other confused people for a further 10 minutes before we realised, 'Oh, hang on, they're lighting the torch!'

We scuttled over and saw something like this:

The lighting of the Olympic Torch on it's travels through our humble little town

Then, off he ran, and that was it. The streets emptied; some people took the 2 minute walk into town where shops had opened early and the Corn Exchange was offering breakfast, and our little group headed back to the house.

I stood with Laura, and gave her a look.
"Wasn't that exciting?" She said with a grin.
"Was that it?"
"Yup."
"A man with a stick."
"Well, a burning stick."
"A stick."
"A golden, burning stick."
"With holes in it, isn't that a fire risk?"
"I think they have it figured out. C'mon Fox, it came alllllll the way from Greece!"
"Oh, that's pretty impressive!"
"Yep. They lit it from the sun using a parabolic mirror."
"Pardon?"
"Parabolic. Yup. I don't know either. But it sounds kinda impressive."

"So he runs to London now?"
"Nope, to the end of the road, to hand it to the next person. It's a relay."
"Oh, well thats dissappointing. Then what?"
"When it gets to London, they use it to light a big flame to symbolise the games."

It was about 7 or 8 in the morning, I had been involuntarily awake for 1 or 2 hours, and I had to leave my tea to come out and watch a man run with a stick. I thought of the mug of re-heated warmth glowing within the house, and just decided to ask about the whole 'games' and 'big flame' thing later.

These humans, so peculiar.

*

So the Games started on Friday night, with the opening ceremony. We all sat in the lounge to watch it in anticipation.

 I wasn't particularly sure what to expect. When they showed the stadium full of grass, hills, floating clouds, flowers, sheep, and a cottage in the centre with a smoking chimney, I must admit I wandered what on Earth we were watching. But actually, it turned out to be absolutely incredible.

Travelling through the history of Britain through visualness, it was remarkably well done. The grass was rolled away, and towering chimneys soared through blackened ground to symbolise the industrial revolution; The actors and actresses mining away, when a flurry of gold travels through the curving line they mine to form a ring. Four other rings hang above, and they unite to form the Olympic rings.

That, to the Great Ormond Street Hospital and NHS tribute, with lit up beds forming shapes, and then surrounded by terrifying nightmares. Progressing on to a hilarious act of Mr. Bean joining with 'Chariots of Fire', and the Queen jumping from a plane with James Bond. Then, on to the different eras of music by telling a cyber love story. At last, the teams from each country come through to the beat of drums.

I was doing very well, bearing in mind it only started at my bedtime (9pm), but I fell asleep when the alphabetical order reached the countries beginning with 'T', and awoke to people with wings flying around on bikes. Very bizarre.

Then, that footballing person David Beckham came through fireworks on a lit up boat, handed the holey fire stick to a famous Olympian, who ran through to the stadium and handed it to a young hopeful. Joined by a few other hopefuls, they ran through the stadium full of the teams and cheering fans with the torch in it's last stretch of the relay from Greece; flags from each country waving on a hill as they approached the cauldron.

Made of copper petals, one carried by each country as they entered, they held the flame against it and it caught, travelling amongst the copper. The petals lifted and met together, producing an incredible symbol of unity, and the most beautiful, (and only) representation of the cauldron I have ever seen.

To finish, the Queen opens the games.

I sat there, blinking rapidly, quite astonished.

It was like an incredibly bizarre dream that you tell people about, and they give you a look as if to say: 'Are you insane?'

But actually, I happen to love the quirky, confusing and astonishing; and found the whole thing pretty amazing.

I have been watching a few sports since, and am rather a fan of the diving in particular. I might even try out for it next time. I think my tail could make things quite streamlined, or I could use it to block out any errors I make on the somersaults.

Although, my fur does go very curly when its wet, and I'm not sure the world is ready to see that.

These games are actually quite good fun, I guess these humans do have some good ideas. Maybe I'll go back to my roots and start some Woodlandympics with the rabbits and shrews. They do love a good volleyball match.

Good luck team GB, and also team Italy! And best wishes to everybody else too!
Lets go get some chocolate coin necklaces! Yayyyyyyyyy!

                                                              

Fox on a teacup

When we went to Wales, in Corris by the Labyrinth there is a little collection of shops where you can dip candles, engrave wood, watch glass-blowing and paint your own ceramics! So Laura painted a picture of me onto an espresso cup! (She must really love me). They had to spend a couple of days firing and glazing it, so they said they'd send them to our homes when it was ready - and it arrived yesterday! Yay!

The Chris Moyles Show

Good morrrrrrning!

So, I never used to listen to the radio... partly because I used to live outside in the wild, and there were no radios there. But when I came to live with Laura, there were 2 stations she was glued to... Jazz FM whilst she painted for art exams, and Radio 1 in the mornings, for The Chris Moyles Show. She'd play their podcasts on repeat, and I just sat there, watching her laugh at the same jokes over and over, wandering why she liked it so much. But y'know, sitting there listening to Aled trying to remember the story of Goldilocks, and then the '3 Little Pigs', or as he calls it: 'The foundations story', I thought "Hey, this isn't too bad actually."

I plugged my iPod in and kicked back and listened to them natter quite often, and it was a nice comfort in the mornings, like waking up with friends. Then, one day, one day something amazing happened.

I filled out an application to go on their game at the end of the show, 'Carpark Catchphrase', and sent the form off, using the most elaborate and passionate description for the 'What are you usually doing between 9 and 10?' question possible. In a matter of hours, my phone rang from an Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hello, Mr. Fox, this is Guy calling from Radio One about your application for Carpark Catchphrase!"

My knees turned to jelly and I squealed ecstatically, running over to Laura and jumping up and down in front of her. I chatted to the guy for a bit, and all seemed hopeful, until...

"Okay! So, are you up for being a phone-in contestant on Monday's show?"

My heart sank, but I held hope, "Oh darn! I have the dentist on Monday, and she's cleaning out a bit of melon that got stuck there last week, I really can't miss it... How about Tuesday?"

"Sorry, maybe try again when you're free?"
We said our goodbyes and hung up.

I hung my head in shame, so close, yet so very far.

*

A few weeks later I filled in the form again, with the exact same elaborate, passionate description, and sat staring at my phone.

It bleeped once, and I fell over a chair running for it, but it turned out the battery was low. There were no calls from Radio One.

*

A month or so later I filled in the form again, with the exact same elaborate, passionate description, and sat staring at my phone.

As if by magic, it rang:

"Hello, Mr. Fox? This is Mary from the Chris Moyles Show, just calling about your application to Carpark Catchphrase!"

My heart fluttered, I grinned enthusiastically... But, the disappointment from the last call and un-call still lingered, and I answered half heartedly to the questions they ask in the little audition to see if you are enthusiastic enough for the show. I was sad and it showed when, after the 5th awkward silence, she said: "Um, okay, well I'll be phoning the other applicants to see what they're like, and I'll call you back if you're chosen, okay?"

There was no call back.

*

A few months later, now an addicted listener of the podcasts, I was eating my cereal at the table, when emotive music sang from the radio, as Chris announced: "We're leaving the breakfast show."

I spat my cornflakes all over Laura, sitting opposite me. We exchanged glances, dropped our spoons and ran for the computer. This was it, it had to be it. I filled in the form again, with the exact same elaborate, passionate description, and sat staring at my phone. And by George I would get on that show in it's last few months!

I sped to the kitchen and ate half a bag of sugar (not advisable, kids, the Dentist didn't even give me a sticker after that) to make sure I was filled with energy for when the phone might possibly, possibly--

'Riiiiinnngggg! Riiinnngggg!'

I made a noise that was something like this: "EeeeaarrrgghhhhhhMAHAHAfleeeeeeeeeeheeeeheeeehehehe!!" and pressed the green button.

"Hello, Fox, this is Claire calling from The Chris Moyles Show about your application to play our new game!"
For the next 15 minutes, we chatted vigorously, and there were times when I even spoke over the top of her. I ploughed through the phone call filled with stories to tell from Wales, such as the humorous scene in a horror film that cracked us up for the rest of the film, the rice moment... everything went in - my hobbies, friends, what I'd eaten for breakfast... I cracked jokes and she laughed, and I tried to keep her laughing (they were probably from sympathy, but I chugged on anyway), until she said those magical words:

"So, Fox, how would you like to come on our show Monday morning!"

I made a noise that was something like this: "EeeeaarrrgghhhhhhMAHAHAfleeeeeeeeeeheeeeheeeehehehe!!" 

*

When Monday morning arrived, I sat on Laura's lap and again, stared at the phone, whilst her parents listened on the radio downstairs. Claire called 10 minutes before to check I was awake, and then, at last, it rang, and she put me on air.

"After the next song, the game will start, okay?"

The music twinkled out from the speakers until the moment came:
"And on line one, it's contestant number one! What's your name, and where do you come from?"

"My name's Fox, and I'm from St Iveeeesssss!"

Then, the moment I was waiting for - with Laura's ear pressed against the other side of the phone excitedly, we heard Chris Moyles' rugged voice at the end of our very own phone, closely followed by Dom, Dave, Aled and Tina.

Gotta say, it was one of the best, and most embarrassing 3 minutes of my life.

And that, my friends, is the story of the time when, 3 days ago, I was on the radio.

I was so excited afterwards, I got Laura to draw a picture of me and the team. She did it with just us at first, but I thought, y'know what, if I'm going to send this in, this needs to be extra cheesy, so in went the really corny words and it turned out something like this...

a trip to Wales

Hello there!

So, this weekend, I went on a trip to Wales with Laura and her friends! One of her friends' grandmother owns a cottage in the South, you see, so we went to stay there - in a little town called Dolgellau.

We all decided that leaving early would be a good idea so that we'd have more time when we got there, so the night before ended like this:

"So, the train gets there at 20 past, soo Sam's picking us up at quarter to 7."
"Okay, I'll set the alarm."
"Night!"
"Nighhhhtt!"

The morning after went a little like this:

Laura woke up sleepily with her friend Hayley's head resting on her shoulder, and smiled drearily. With a yawn, she stretched one hand out beside her to stroke my back, and with the other she picked up the clock.
It read: 6:40.
"6:40, ah." She said with a calm nod, before hesitating and furrowing her brow. "6.40... 6.40!! GUYS WAKE UP! SAM'S GONNA BE HERE IN---"
The doorbell rings.

Luckily we all tumbled onto the platform in time to hop onto the first of 3 trains, a bus and a long walk to get to the cottage, after meeting the other 2 of Laura's friends. It was a 6 hour journey, but it was filled with the fun of some insane version of Charades and Italian card games - and boy oh boy was it worth the wait.

When the train reached Wales, the landscape began to curve into deeper and taller mountains and hills - the cement pathways and roads now cluttered with cobbles and surrounded by greenery everywhere you look - except to the left, where the sea rolled along a beautiful sand beach. It was incredible; in fact, I may retire out there one day, after fulfilling my foxy duties in the world.

The train eventually pulled into Bamouth station, where we hopped off and headed into the town. We had an hour or so wait for the bus, so decided to perch in a local cafe for a memorable treasure of our previous trip to Dolgellau: a Shmoo.

A Shmoo, my friends, is a wonderful thing. It is essentially a thick milkshake available in 4 flavours, and then topped with optional cream and sprinkles. Its the kind of milkshake that seems to be about 80% sugar, so it is a better wake-up drink than coffee by a long shot. And you will know you are drinking a Shmoo when your throat starts to burn. I don't know why it does that, but it is an unmistakable and lovable trait of this glorious, glorious drink.

After the Shmoos had been shmoo'd, we caught the bus to the town where we were staying. Its a quaint, pretty little place: a lot of the buildings are converted from Churches- there is perhaps the most majestically built Spar there I have ever seen. The structures are mainly built from grey stone, and are nestled in amongst steep hills and forestry, a perfect picturesque location. We soon began the long ascend to the cottage. And I mean long! We decided to go along the road way, which is less steep than the other routes (though not by too much), but it was a 45 minute journey with our luggage - a very exhausting affair.

Eventually we reached the cottage; set on the top of one hill and at the foot of another, it's side faces the forest, it's back to a slanted field of shrubbery and sheep, and it's front to a wonderful view of the landscape, with a downward slope to the forests, and, of course, sheep. The inside of the house is also quite wonderful; there is a porch leading to the kitchen, bathrooms and hallway, and the latter gives way to the lounge - with several armchairs and sofas in red and green, an open fireplace, and a large wooden table at the back that is sometimes doubled as a table tennis table. The kitchen sits a room away, and is also home to 2 arm chairs and a wooden table, and all the regular kitcheny things; but also with a window through to the porch, and a small, curved staircase leading upstairs. These stairs lead us straight into mine, Laura and Hayley's room, with a double bed and a little dressing table. Walking straight through here, we go into another room of 2 single beds, where Maria slept. Then, across the landing are 2 more bedrooms; one unused this time, and the other where the 2 other guys slept.

So, that sets the scene for you.

Now, for the adventures of our holiday to Wales!

Saturday 14th July, 2012

Most of today was pretty much spent travelling, but I can tell you how we spent our evenings. As it's just the 6 of us, alone, in the middle of the countryside, with neighbors a mile or 2 away, we decided it would be a fantastic idea to watch a horror film or 2 every night before we went to sleep. This, my friends, is not a good idea.

We all sat huddled up on the sofa in our PJs and under the duvets, the only light spilling from the crackling fire. There's no TV in the cottage, so we used Hayley's laptop, and sat with it in front of us as it played the scary footage.

It was one of those moments where the suspense is building in the film after an extra scary scene, and the hand is reaching to open the door or something, or the monster is behind the main character - it gets intense, my paws grip tightly around the blanket and...

"RRRIIIIIINNNNGGGGGGGG, RRIIIINNNNGGGG!"

I think we must have jumped about a foot off the sofa with the ringing of the phone - which ended after two rings, and was from a withheld number... We resorted to hysterical laughter to resolve the tension in the situation, and binged on Disney films to dissolve our worries so we could sleep easy. However, when it came to leaving the lounge to turn the lights off downstairs, all 6 of us piled out as a unit; darting around the house as if a big furry critter was galloping after us - but that imaginary creature just kept the adventure alive. The sparkly, musical-coated fairy-tales enchanted our minds into a peaceful slumber… and so began the tradition of the Horror film nights.

Sunday 15th July, 2012

Today, Today was sunny. Well, relatively sunny.  So, we went to the Blue Lake. This magical place is situated in Fairbourne, which is a half hour or so away from the cottage, so we tumbled down the many hills into town and caught a bus to the little seaside village.

After loading up on food for a picnic by the lake, we decided to walk along the beach towards the mountain where the lake is situated. The grey skies were painted blue and the sun shone for us as we approached the sandy floors, and that was all the encouragement I needed. Like some kind of animal, I flopped onto all fours and made a bee-line for the sea, the sand tickling my toes as my paws brushed against it. That hysterical laughter bubbled up in my throat once again as I neared the waters edge, then, with the lapping sea-water in my sights, I lept into the air with a call of: "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!"

I plunged into the shallows, squealing at the cold water rushing around my ankles. The others ran up, playing with the in and out-coming waves, skittering away from each rolling wave and jumping them as if they were hoovers. (I really don't like hoovers.) I raised my eyebrows, trotting over in front of them and grinned.

"Don't even think about it," Laura smiled, eyeing me suspiciously.
"What happens in Wales, stays in Wales..." I said, calmly.
I turned, leaving them frolicking unsuspectingly, then swooped my tail down into the next, rather large approaching wave and sent the majority of it over the heads of Laura and her friends.

*        *        *

We trotted along the beach, dripping wet, until we reached the road, and began the long and steep ascent up the mountain. It was easier than the first time, I'll admit, but still fairly strenuous. But the higher we got, the vaster and more beautiful the views became. Last year, on our travels up here, we saw a lizard in the road. We got so excited at this exotic creature, that we all bent over it with our cameras and were amazed at how tame it was as the tourist paparazzi snapped away... It was only until we were walking back, and saw it sat in the exact same position, that we realised why it had been so quiet and friendly. Sam scooped it up in a leaf and set it to the side of the road, and we looked at our cameras in shame, and sang a rather impressive improvised song about Lenny the Lizard in tribute.

We clambered up rocks, huge piles of slate and through mossy streams until at last the ground evened out, and opened into a small patch of green. Slate piled to the right and trees dotted the left; directly in front was a sheer drop, but which overlooked nearly the entire of Fairbourne, and to the back rose another large hill that enclosed the Blue Lake. There was a steep path along to the top where you can see a birds eye view, but we headed along to the base of the hill, where a small cave led through to the lake; the top lined with slate that Laura hit her head on, and the bottom of it filled with ankle-deep water dancing around stones that you could hop across until, eventually, you reach the long-awaited Blue Lake.

The water is surrounded by mossy, tall cliff edges disguised by piles and piles of slate. The lake was everything we hoped to find - it was blue, and it was a lake. And I mean really blue. Really, really blue. I didn't realise just how blue the Blue Lake would be. It's naturally that colour from the copper within it... and the water is so clear that you can see the edges of grassy rock falling into the deep, which is said to be bottomless. It really is b-e-a-utiful.

We plopped down on the rocks and dipped in our paws and feet - looking forward to the refreshing coolness after a sticky climb. Our feet immediately shot out;
"It's freeeezing!" squealed Hayley, as we tried edging our tootsies back in.
"You'd think," Sam pondered, "If it's actually bottomless, the core of the Earth would heat it up a little."

I laid on my belly and shuffled a little closer, pawing at the water and edging my nose closer to the surface, snuffling at it. When, all of a sudden, a little fish darted beneath the surface - and another, and another... and, yep, another! I tensed my body and froze; gently, slowly, lifting one paw out of the water. I waited until the fish wriggled up inquisitively to the other, dangling paw and...

SPLASH!

I swatted my paw down through the water, unfortunately missing the fish, and also unfortunately so enthusiastically I lost my balance and...

SPLASH!

In I went, into the blueness and lakeyness of the Blue Lake. I shot up to the surface and paddled, treading water - my fur soaking wet and hanging downwards as if I had a huge beard from my chin.
Laura and her friends looked at me blankly.
Wait for it...
Wait for it...
Their faces twitch.
Wait for it...
You know you want to...
One of them shudders, breaking into a grin...
Here it comes...
They all burst out laughing.
I grinned and swam eagerly towards them, coiled my tail around Laura's ankle and tugged at it.
"Eeeep, no! No! No!" She laughed, grabbing Hayley's arm and pulling her in as they went...

SPLASH!

Laura looked at me, grinned, and then swam for me. I laughed heartily, bounding towards her and jumping on her head. The sun continued shining for us and we had a wonderous afternoon gallivanting and picnicking by the wonderous Blue Lake, before making tracks for home.

Monday 16th July, 2012

Today we went down into the caves of Corris, to King Arthur's Labyrinth. We got kitted out with hard-hats and were led into some very cold caves to meet the 'Boats-man'; a man dressed in grey and black robes, with a hood covering half of his face, and a rope tied to his waist; we clambered into the boat ready to start our medievil voyage, and looked to the scary, Boats-man, expecting a deep, bellowing voice repeating some Olde English lines from the past... And instead, a young boy said: "Hey guys! Watch your feet, its slippy in here!"

We were taken on a tour around the caves, which were filled with waxworks that told some stories of the past, and of King Arthur himself. And, on the way out, the water was dimly lit by torches, and a dragon loomed from a cove - smoke twirling from it's nostrils, and the silhouette of Excalibur gleaming in the background. Very cool stuff.

After discarding our hard-hats, we decided it would be a fabulous idea to purchase our very own plastic Excalibur for just £2.50... a bargain if you ask me; and after a refreshing break for lunch and shmoos, had a glorious sword fight by the bus stop in the pouring rain - the scene just short of some dramatic, inspiration-building music to make it into a masterful short-film.

                                             Tuesday 17th July, 2012

Today was a very relaxing day. We decided to spent it exploring the town of Dolgellau, and wandered down and through various shops; stopping in an old book shop, and another full of odds and ends, where I purchased some old postcards from the area that were nearly 100 years old. The shop keeper even remembered us from last year! So did the taxi driver, come to think of it. We must have made a memorable first impression. I guess it's not everyday you get a fox standing on 2 legs with an umbrella and wellingtons, pondering over the china teapot.

As the evening drew near, we made our way back to the cottage. Laura's friend made a delightful curry dinner, and we sat around the table in candle light, with romantic music playing in the background - very suave. Then, after we cleared the table, we sat back down and were chatting away, when Sam picked up his glass to take a drink and noticed something small on the table. The glass must have knocked it a little so that it rolled across a few inches, which shocked him into thinking it was a bug... So he yelled, pointing at it, and we all just instinctively screamed, staring at this one little thing on the table, yelling in fear for several minutes as if it was going to leap up and eat our noses... Before somebody said, "Oh, hang on, it's a grain of rice."

The weather had started to cheer up from the afternoon's downpour, so we gathered together sticks for a bonfire by the side of the house. Try as we might, the fire would light, but fail to spread to the rest of the twigs. So as one of Laura's friends persisted with the flames, we decided to wander along through the hills to watch the sunset.

We perched on top of a hill overlooking more hills, and forestry, and sheep... and the sun began to sink beneath them. It was perhaps one of the most majestic things I have seen yet. The clouds blanketing a blue sky were both harsh greys and gentle whites, contrasting each other and the sun itself beautifully... The perfect end to a wonderful holiday.

When we decided to head back, the bonfire remained unlit - still damp from the rain. So we plodded inside and started the fire in the lounge, and gathered around with milk, tea, chocolates. We poked marshmallows onto sticks and sat in front of the flames, watching the fluffy sweets turn golden and crispy, with melty goodness on the inside. I smiled and settled myself on the rug, curling my tail around me and enjoying the warm of the fire, and the sound of laughter before scaring ourselves with the latest Horror film.

The wonderful fireplace

A really, rather wonderous holiday, actually.

So long, Dolgellau, see you next year!

All my love,
Fox

Bingo

Oh yes, you heard me.

The sport that a lot of beings forget about. And when I say sport, I mean blood-boiling, sweat-inducing, adrenaline-pumping athletics of chance, mind and stab of the blotter.

Everyone seems to be under the impression that Bingo is just some feeble pass-time for women of a certain age (in the prime of life), but let me tell you - everybody goes. From youngsters to the elderly - boys, girls, women, men... a few weeks ago I even saw a big, burly, leather-coated biker sat clutching his pens and booklet.

I join Laura and her auntie, mum, nan and cousin every now and then for a game down town, and it's such great fun! It gives us all a chance to have a natter and a good catch up too, which is nice. We order our drinks, and then sit with booklets open and dobbers poised, ready for the chant of the amusing caller's cockney tinted call of the numbers.

Sure, it starts all light-hearted, with a tut and a hearty laugh at every missed 'Bingo!', but as the prize money increases, so does the competitiveness. The jolly giggles turn from a: "Ha ha ha ha ha ha!", to a simple: "Ha." - which then deteriorates into a forced smile, half smirk, and finally into that wrinkled brow, focused stare and twitching straight mouth as things get serious...

It's the last game of the night - with 3 sections of play to have the chance of winning: One line, two lines, and then the Full House.

The money is raised for the One Liner from £10 to £30.
The caller starts calling...
"69, 42, 5 - on it's own - number 5, 51, 17..."
Nope, still no lines.
Not even 2 numbers together.
That's fine.
Absolutely fine.
Noooooo worries.

"24, 65, 63, all the 3s - 33..."
Then, somebody from across the hall calls: "Here!"

Drat.

S'alright, was only the One Line. Only £30.
Nothing to worry about.

Prize money is raised to £60 for the next play.

I play the 2 Liner with an open mind; sure, it'd be nice to win... It'd be fantastic, actually, but the main thing is to have fun... And fill up a box in preparation for the next, bigger game...
"Here!"

Okay, that's okay.
That's no problem.
Here it is.
The Full House.
The big one.

My paw clenches tighter around the dobber pen, and my ears ram forward ready.
I'm perspiring a lot more than should be considered normal.

We await for the caller to announce the new prize amount; he jokes, playing with us and laughing joyousely at a woman on the front table who is threatening him, only half-joking.

We expect a humble £80, or perhaps even £100 if we're lucky...

Finally, the caller announces: "And, last game of the night, prize money is £200!"

I freeze.
£200.
200 whole pounds.
200 British pounds sterling. (Why they named their coins after a bird, I'll never know. Do humans not know that birds aren't circular, nor branded with latin?")

Think of all the creme eggs and smarties that could buy! I could even purchase a new basket to sleep in... or a new brush made from whale bone (Blades of Glory reference there)... I could buy HUNDREDS of juice boxes!!

Yessssssss, c'mon baby, I've got boxes that are filled with blue blobs - a few numbers away from that nifty jackpot.

He begins: "90, 81, all the legs - legs 11 (audience whistles), 31, 37, 49..."
Nope.
It's okay, it's early yet.
"61, 2, 22..."
No.
That's okay.
That's fine.
"21, 53..."
C'MON!
"75..."
Oh.. Hang on...
"86, 63, 7..."
Yes... Yes...
"52..."
Two numbers to go!!
"29, 1, 19, 38..."
ONE NUMBER TO GO!

My heart pounds - my perspiration is severely matting my fur, encouraging new levels of dehydration. I picture the win; clutching my booklet and leaping up with a fantastic punch of the air - confetti fluttering down in colours of the rainbow, and Laura and I jump up and down exctatically screaming and hugging; the audience standing to applaud and cheer, as I open my mouth and yell that glorious, empowered, victorious call of--

"Bingo!"

WHAT.

I throw my paws down on the table and glare at the woman across the room who is waving her book; her friends clapping cheerily. There is a groan filtering through the audience, but they all clap and smile tiredly as they ready themselves for home.

I stare at Laura in disbelief, taking the last swig of my tea to calm my nerves.
"One number, One number! Can you even believe that?!"
She laughs and pats me fondly on the head. "Better luck next time, kid."
I gather up my things, thinking of the dozens of juice boxes and creme eggs fading from view, when the Caller, after handing out the winnings, announces: "And, just to annoy ya - here's what the next number would'a been!"

The number displays.

I look at my booklet.

The caller still chuckles: "Bet some of you are--"

He is cut off mid-sentence, as for some reason a polystyrene hot drinks cup conks him on the head.