Blob Thing speaks:
Well. It's a new month. And I'm still writing my blog. This post will be the sixtieth post in sixty days and while that's not as exciting as ten days ago when I wrote my fiftieth post I'm still quite excited by it. Tomorrow's post will be exciting for me too and I haven't decided what to write about yet. I have had so many adventures. Yesterday I had another one when Winefride and I got taken to experience the Sunday Assembly in Newcastle. Winefride enjoyed it for a while but got a bit overwhelmed by all the people and noise and she went off to sit in the bag and had to be quiet. I sat through the whole of it. I don't know what to call it. I can't call it a service like I would with a church. But I don't want to call it a meeting or anything like that. And an assembly of the Sunday Assembly seems a bit strange too. Whatever.
It was great and a man talked about science and art and a woman talked about writing and a child read a story and a woman with a ukelele sang a nice song she had just written about finding a lullaby in all kinds of strange places and we all sang some happy songs. I enjoyed it and we took photos and afterwards Winefride and I got photographed inside a blue star too. I think my person had a good time too although she was exhausted afterwards and could hardly do a thing for the rest of the day.
But today I want to talk about an adventure I had in the city of Manchester. That was a great day too. Winefride hadn't been born then so I was alone with my person and we were having an explore. We explored a lot that day. I visited an amazing library, saw Roman ruins, went to a posh bar, walked by a canal, met some industrial sculptures, surprised myself by totally enjoying a place devoted to war, and then things got even more exciting and I got to visit the Blue Peter garden. What a day. The day after that I was taught how to talk with barnacles and the day after that I met worms and nearly got eaten by a tiger. You wouldn't think a small pink soft toy could have so many fabulous adventures but I can because I am lucky. I keep saying that I'm the luckiest small pink toy in the entire world but that's because it's true. I think my sister would have liked some of those adventures. Maybe one day she'll get to share them with me.
Today's adventure follows on from the one I told you about yesterday. It's to do with sheep. Yesterday I talked about how Winefride and I got to ride on some beautiful sheep in a town called Wrecsam, which is in another country called Wales. Today I want to tell you about the time I got to stand on some sheep in Manchester. I had never met a sheep before and here were three all at once. Sheep are like buses except I don't think a sheep would be very happy if you tried to get fifty-four people sitting on one, and then added on another fourteen people standing up - or standees as buses call them - and then tried to find a space for a wheelchair user too. No. I don't think the sheep would be very happy at all. I've heard of a cat bus. I'd love to ride on a cat bus. But there isn't any such thing as a sheep bus. Unless there is and I haven't heard of it. I'd look it up but my person says we need to finish this post and we haven't got enough time to look on Google and that I'd get distracted if we did look up sheep buses and then I'd either spend an hour watching videos of buses or I'd spend an hour watching videos of sheep or I'd be looking up timetables and working out all the different buses we could get in order to go and see lots of sheep. I'd seen sheep before this adventure. There were some on the moor I walked across in my epic reservoir walk. But I had never met one close up. And now there were three. Three. You can imagine how excited I was.
Here I am sitting on one of the sheep. My person had to leave me sitting there so she could take a picture of me with all the sheep. I held on very tightly but it was a bit scary in case the sheep suddenly ran off and ran so fast it forgot to stop and ran all the way to the canal and didn't realise in time and couldn't put on its sheep bus brakes quickly enough and it fell into the canal with me still riding on its back. Whatever would I do then? So it was a bit scary to be left there. Things didn't go wrong though and I didn't end up in the canal and all three of the sheep behaved very well indeed.
My person took lots of pictures of me and the sheep. They were incredibly friendly and didn't mind me riding on them. I only rode on two of them. The other one wasn't so friendly. It wasn't mean or anything like that but it just carried on eating all the time I was there and didn't even look up once. Obviously it thinks that food is more important than Blob Thing and who am I to argue with the thought processes of a sheep. I did wonder though why it didn't move. The food where it was standing didn't look particularly appetising and if you look at that picture you'll see that it wouldn't have taken much effort for the sheep to walk across to where the grass looks much nicer. If I was a sheep I'd go and eat the nice grass. Sheep can be strange creatures.
Here I am sitting on the back of the sheep I was sitting on in the first photo. My person was closer to my by then and if the sheep had run off she could have restrained it or rescued me from its back and I wouldn't have fallen into the canal or got run down by a taxi on Deansgate or arrested by a policeman. I might show you a picture of some policemen tomorrow. I might. Winefride is in it too.
A new photo. A new sheep. The next picture is of me sitting on another one of the sheep. I sat on its head. I asked if it minded but it didn't say that it did so I decided that sitting on its head would probably be okay. I also asked it whether it liked being a sheep. It said that being a sheep was quite a nice life sometimes because it was good to be out on a sunny day and it very much liked the taste of grass. But sometimes it was a horrible life because it had to stay outside in all weathers and didn't even have a waterproof jacket. And the rain made its wool quite uncomfortable. It was also a little worried that one day it might get made into mutton and that my person might eat it. Poor sheep. I don't think I would like to be a sheep. I don't want to have to stand around outside in a hail storm and I certainly don't want my person to eat me.
I've probably talked enough about my sheep adventure. I had a lot of fun. Here I am on that sheep's head again. It's posing for the camera too and smiling as widely as it possibly could. It said that if I liked I could come and see it again. I haven't been back though. I wonder how those sheep are doing and whether they would remember me if I went there again. It might happen. I know my person wants to have an all day walk that starts from very near where the sheep live. Very close to them is the start of a walk that is nearly forty miles long and she wants to do that. I don't think she wants to walk it all in one day though. She's not fit enough for anything like that. But she wants to begin.
The sheep and I together make a good photo. I like having all these photos. I can look at them and remember how lucky I am and how amazing the past seven months have been. It was my birthday yesterday. Seven months old. And Winefride was ten days old. Or eleven days if you measure days like a Jew - like Jesus the Jew did in the Bible. They count inclusively. The Sunday Assembly is radically inclusive but I don't think they all count inclusively.
One last photo. My person says that if you google the words in this photo you will be able to find out all kinds of information about my friends the sheep of Manchester. She's just delayed my post by looking it up for herself.
I have to admit that there are interesting sites. The best one we've been reading is this one in the link under these words. It's not the most scholarly and most of it isn't about the sheep but it's the best. It's written by the grandchild of Ted Roocroft and it talks about how "him and Grandma came over from Ireland in a cowboy wagon and how he defeated a Giant and his pet sabre-tooth tiger to take possession of his small holding." If there could be any better webpage about Ted Roocroft than that I don't know quite what it would be.
Okay. That's enough about the sheep. Eventually I'll tell you about the rest of that day. It was amazing. Even though for a little while it was me who was stuck outside in the rain and it rained very hard. We had an excellent walk and explore and ended it sitting in the sunshine by the water with a drink while a man with a guitar sat on a nearby stage and softly sang his songs. Bliss. So that was post number sixty. I hope I was talking with some measure of sense. I bet you're glad that I didn't go into long discussions about God or not god today and only mentioned Jesus once. Today the sheep were more important to me than the Jesus.
I bet my person could write a sermon about that and bring in lots of Bible ideas and her own less than traditional interpretation. But she can do it on her own blog if she wants. She can't do it here. No. No, no, no. This is my blog not hers. She's my typist and it's fun to discuss all these things with her. But it's my blog. And she needs to remember that. She can't forget it because I just made her type that! She's smiling though, so it's okay.
[1879 words]
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