The world is full of......

..Grumpy Old Men. I should know. I know two of them. GOM1 cam home from work on Friday evening and sank onto the sun lounger next to mine - I woke up from my spring evening snooze and tried to make pleasant conversation, but it was comical how Grumpy the responses were..when I shared about the French market visiting St Albans (cheese? olives? you can buy those on the ordinary market, not very original...) the building work going on next door (what have the builders done today, I can't see much change..) and so on, a negative comment to everything I said, until I said, actually, I'm not going to talk to you any more, and went back to sleep. There was a Grumpy sort of 'Hmmph' sound and he read the paper.

He went off to a lecture by a Christian writer, Keith Ward, he has been reading his books and is well impressed. I declined to join him to hear 'Is religion more dangerous than God?' in favour of a warm spring evening dog walk, which is developing into a lovely habit with me and Sophie.....

Next minute GOM2 rings to chat on his way back from a full day of Important Business Meetings, and on discovering that GOM1 is out, and his wifey and daughter are also out, he suggests calling in for a coffee and a chat. 'Or we could meet for a dog walk,' I suggest chirpily. There is silence. 'A dog walk?' 'Yes.' (He doesn't, as a rule, walk their dog. Not in his job description. Sees it as a chore.) 'I'm very tired, have been up since 6.30am, just want to collapse.' 'Nonsense, if wifey and daughter are not there, you dog must need a walk, and the fresh air will do you good, come on, meet you there in 20 mins.' A discussion ensued in which I realised he really, really didn't want to walk the dog, and so being the empathetic, caring person I am, I started saying, 'OK, no worries, we won't go for a walk, just come round for coffee', then GOM2 was saying, in that slightly sulky way, 'No, no, you obviously want to walk your dog, we'll do that, it's ok,' and so it went on until we met in the Wick. All week I have enjoyed the peace of the woods, the green spring leaves on the trees, the blue bells in abundance, the amazing bird song, and warm evening sun sprinkling through the trees. And as Jude says on her blog, sometimes you just have to share these things!

Even as I reached the Wick, I started to feel chilly in my T shirt - it had clouded over..never mind. GOM2 and 3 legged dog appeared, and I could tell immediately we were sulking. I was in such a good mood, that GOM1 or GOM2 could not dampen, so I continued to chat happy thoughts, as GOM2 threw the ball for his normally energetic dog..and she sat down. He tried again..and she sat down. He decided her one remaining back leg must be causing trouble, but I could see by the way she sat down, it was something else. Her bum was annoying her. As she moved, I could see something..oh dear..she has a bum problem, I said. It ended up with me trying to hold doggy still while GOM2 investigated under the tail and removed something with his hand in a plastic bag. He was not happy. I was laughing. At this point it started raining.......

Let's walk in the wooded bit to shelter from the rain, I said. The other reason for avoiding the field was that it was full of Friday night excited teenagers with bikes, tinnies and a lot of shouting...one could harldy hear the birds singing. This did not impress GOM2 either.' 'I thought you said it was peacful here?' Well, yes, on any other night, and also it was sunny every other evening...

So we continued our walk, in the woods, with a now comfortable 3L dog anxious to play ball. GOM2 has a long yellow plastic stick thing with a ball cup on the end, and if you use it properly, it throws the ball miles without hurting your back. When the dog returns the ball, you simply push the cup onto it, and so pick the ball up without having to bend down. Genius for dog owners with bad backs. I wanted a go. Careful, says GOM2, as we are in the woods, throw it straight or we'll lose it.' I lob the ball, experimenting with the yellow plastic stick, not exactly a straight shot, and the ball flies out sideways, hits a tree and flies into the middle of a clump of nettles. Opps, sorry, I say, laughing, then realise my companion is not laughing. Instead there isa resigned sigh, a stiff smile, and next minute he is in the middle of the nettles (the dog, of course, refuses to go in) smashing about with the yellow stick trying to find the ball. I join in, saying sorry a lot and trying not to laugh. We look for a while. No luck. Oh leave it I say - it was very old, chewed tennis ball - not Wimbledon standard - but with clenched jaw, he carries on swiping at nettles and looking determinedly for the ball.

Never mind, just get another one. Oh yes, just get an other ball, plenty more where that came from, says GOM2, still face down in nettles, so I retire to a nearby log to reflect that, how strange it is, when you think you know someone...and of course I shouldn't assume he can just afford to lose an old tennis ball, and I must give him some of my old ones to make up..I am still in a startlingly good mood, and am just moved to giggles by the sight of GOM2 swishing and swashing in the nettles after a good 10 minutes, unaware I have gone, and in fact, he is probably imagining it is me he is thrashing...

I risk a text message...'Give up' he looks up as his phone beeps, sees me sitting on the log and guesses...he walks towards me, reading the text. 'Oh, ha,' he says. 'Am I being a pain?' No, I say, but I am sending you off home now to have a rest, you are very tired, goodbye. I walk him to his gate, see him off, and leg it back across the field past the screeching teenagers to my gate as it is getting dark.

As I walk home, still happy, still full of energy and marvelling at my good mood! my phone beeps with a text.

'Still walking home, but at least it's stopped raining and I've stopped sulking.' I hadn't mentioned the sulking at all, which had continued for the whole walk, at least he was acknowledging it himself, and good, now he was no longer with me, had stopped!!!

I texted back. 'That's ok. Goodnight, Mr Grump.'

The return text said, 'I know. I'm cross with myself for being a typical blokey. Thank you for inviting me out, Mrs-lovely-spring-evening-aren't -the-birdies-nice-in-the-rain..'

I smiled all the way home. And guess what was on TV? Grumpy Old men. And no, I didn't watch it. I didn't need to. And I warned GOM2 I would blog this. That took the smile off his face.