Hitler Heather

Heather switched my weekly muck-out and lifecoach session from Weds to Tues, so I was even more behind schedule than usual on my pre-assigned tasks. She writes her weekly plan with me in precise capitals, and God help me if that homework isn't maintained and verified each week.

She's a tough broad, raised on a New Zealand farm and with the freckles and skin cancer scars to prove it. Makes jams and chutneys every year and keeps a beautiful and food-rich garden. But she's a tough task-mistress. Beware her tongue if you've failed your assignments or allocated task list. I ask you- tough as old boots even when she's a forgiving saint, and shrives freely shortcomings.

What's worst is the frank betrayal when your own flesh-and-blood, the fruits-of-your-womb, clipe on you mercilessly to Heather in defense of their own transgressions. "Mum left her bag in the hall", "Mum didn't make her bed". She's a tattle-tale, that Nini, with no more loyalty than Lord Haw-Haw. She never misses a chance to cosy up to the fuzz, even in my hearing.

Next week is half-term break, when I get the pleasure of my kids' company fulltime. I'll be taking them the Walk the Line, and we've arranged a meeting up with Hitler Heather and her part-owned rescued smooth-coated collie, Reekie, for a pebble-beach picnic and dog-run at Musselburgh.

This dog Reekie is more human-tuned than any I've known. He possesses one brown and one blue eye, like David Bowie, white socks, belly and tail tip, and a preternatural linguistic ability. This dog has an accurate and almost freaky understanding of at least 50 discrimatory words, including verbs, adverbs, adjectives and nouns inc. stay, bring, leave, sit, stay; sock, slippers, towel, tail, blanket, walk, food, ball; the other one, the blue one. This is one smart dog.