Last week seemed to be one of those weeks when Andrew was away quite a bit. For nearly a year now, his main clients have been in London (a central London borough) and as well, he makes regular trips up to Birmingham for his company meetings and training days. Both of these are easily accessible by train from Cardiff, both being usually about 2 hours away, although Andrew's views on the reliability of First Great Western are pretty unprintable. I thought I would paint a picture of our routine when he travels, which is a bit different to the days when he is working from home. Usually, he catches the 6.55 train, which means that we are up around 6, have a coffee (I refuse to do anything without this!), throw on some clothes and bundle myself and the dogs into the car, with Andrew looking very smart in his suit, and carrying laptop bag plus little wheelie case for overnighters. We aim to leave the house about 6.25 and get into the railway station car park around 6.45 - at that time of the morning, the roads are very quiet. We are usually in the car park at about the same time that the local charities are doing their morning run of hot drinks and breakfast for the rough sleepers, from the back of a van. I find this very sobering and usually have a brief moment of thankfulness that we have a home and stable life. Andrew then says goodbye to us all and trundles off to the station to get ticket, coffee, paper and board the train.

I take over the driving seat of the car. Like most married couples, I immediately have to re-arrange the seat (being a shortarse) and put the car in neutral - he always leaves it in gear, which drives me nuts. Radio 4 on, to enjoy the Today programme, and the car swings round to the back of the station (if we're lucky, inhaling lungfuls of the wonderful smell of the mash from Brain's Brewery, which is very nearby) and then down Dumballs Road. Invariably, I am horrified at the amount of litter on Dumballs Road - the street is awash with fast food wrappers, cans and general mess - awful. I harrumph down to the bay and head for Clarence Embankment, near the old Hamadryad hospital. Swinging round, I park the car by the entrance to the park. The dogs always know where we are and get excited. I get them out carefully, as the area is awash with cats which leads to even more excitement and a great deal of squeaking and woofing, which is acutely embarrassing so early in the morning when there are people still in bed nearby. Having assembled the three dogs, put muzzles on two of them, gathered poo bags, coat or cardigan depending on weather, locked the car and checked my phone, we're off. Before we even enter the park, we can usually hear the thump and splash of the rowers on the river, sometimes the shouting of the cox if a big group is out. We enjoy our walk in the park - usually it is quiet, with a few joggers in the spring and summer plus a regular who I always smile at who does Tai Chi in a nice spot overlooking the river. If there are no other dogs about I cautiously leat Boola off the lead - he loves sniffing about by the river and running round in big circles on the grass. Usually, there are lots of birds to look at, both on the river and in the trees/grass of the park itself. A swan is nesting there at the moment, which is exciting, and I love seeing the sky fill with big flocks of starlings or gulls, coming in to feed. Recently I even saw an oystercatcher pottering about. In the distance I can see the golden roof of the Millennium Centre, glittering in the early morning sun, or bronze if it is dull. Our walk is lovely, a great way to start the day, with an opportunity to look at nature and the river, and some fabulous buildings.

Then it's back to the car, again on cat alert, dogs in, muzzles off, coat off, radio on, and we cruise back down Lloyd George Avenue - by now it's at least 7.30 or later, so there are people now driving about to get to work. I hit the bay road and head back past the steel works, usually making good time as I am going against the main flow of the traffic. On the way back I invariably call in to Tesco at around 7.50 - I pick up a paper, and usually items such as bread or other groceries. I notice the Cleansing vehicles parked outside the supermarket - it seems to have become a popular location for breakfast as well as for the Highways lorries too. I can't blame them - the Tesco restaurant does a highly competitive cooked breakfast which is probably served faster and is likely to taste better and be cheaper than the one in the canteen at the depot. I'm sure if the Ikea store were open earlier, that would also be popular as they too do an excellent value breakfast. With a couple of items to purchase, I usually have to do those awful self service swipe tills - Tesco has a bizarre policy of not opening any "real" checkouts until 8 am, no matter how busy. I am a sucker for getting treats for the dogs, some times it's a box of chicken livers, which I lightly saute with garlic for them, or sometimes some cooked chicken pieces for them which they enjoy as snacks during the day. Then back into the car, and home, avoiding all the hideous pot holes. Once back at the house, dogs and shopping are unloaded, shoes off, leads off, and breakfast is served to the pack. Once the dogs are sorted, including various tablets, supplements etc. I then sort out my own breakfast and another coffee, and settle down with the paper while I eat. At this point, the assorted hounds will usually check that the mistress is not going to share hers and once this is confirmed, will assume positions of deep torpor around the place. Generally, I can hear snoring after a few moments while they catch up with their powernapping. Invariably, I'll get a call from Andrew about 9, usually just before or just after he has arrived at his destination, to update me on journey times, check in and find out what adventures we had on our walk (did Booty argue with a swan? Did Boola chase a rabbit? Did Andy find a squirrel up a tree?) An eye will be opened at the sound of the phone disturbing the sacred greyhound slumber but generally they go back to sleep almost instantly. Depending on the coffee's impact, I will sometimes have a go at the cryptic crossword (much swearing and head scratching will ensue) but by 9.30 this part of the day is over and I am progressing to my domestic programme at full speed.

So, there you have a fairly detailed look at our morning when we take Andrew to the station, this is usually two or sometimes three times a week, depending on his schedule. Over the weekend, we did another nice walk up at the Forestry Commission that I wrote about recently being covered with wood anemones. Now it is utterly carpeted with bluebells. For most of the walk, we were in glorious silence with just the wonderful birdsong, and the smell and sight of bluebells all round us - difficult to describe except to say it was glorious and I loved the colours - that intense purply blue fading away to darkness across the glades, while above the beech leaves were a glorious acid green with dappled sunlight breaking through -one of those occasions when it is immensely frustrating not to be an artist, and to long to capture the beauty of the colours and the location. We heard an owl, woodpeckers, saw tree-creepers and many smaller birds such as great tits in the trees. Although it is gloriously peaceful, we don't let the dogs off as there is a huge quarry nearby and I can just imagine an excited greyhound chasing a rabbit and not noticing the absence of footing until it was too late.... Back home to home-made bread in bacon sandwiches and lots of coffee over the leisurely weekend paper.

Yesterday, we decided to give at least one dog a bath. We had hoped to start with Andy, but this proved to be a bit tricky. Firstly, he had sussed what we were planning as soon as he saw towels going in to the main bathroom and he disappeared downstairs. Getting him back upstairs was practically impossible, then once he was in the bathroom, any attempt to get near him to lift him into the bathtub met with him trying to hide in the corner behind my legs, and resisting every attempt to pick him up. Bear in mind that he is a very big greyhound and weighs around 30kg - eventually the attempt became too traumatic for all concerned and he fled downstairs with his dignity and his aroma intact. Next was Booty, who was considerably easier all round, being smaller, lighter and although not keen on the bath, will stand there looking miserable with her tail clamped between her legs while you shampoo her. I took some pics of her as she came out which are attached. While she dries, her collar remains off and she looks curiously naked without it.