Apple-bobbing crisis puts me in doghouse

Share this article
David Curwen, centre, hugs his mother with whom he wa sreunited. Completing the group is his brother Keith

THIS WEEK IN 1975: Reunited after 30 years – but only thanks to a kind stranger

0
Have your say

Greetings Chipsters, everywhere. I’m in the doghouse – no, not my stylish kennel here at Dunyelping, but with my master who is far from pleased with me.

‘Why’s that then Chipper?’ I hear you chorus. Well, it’s all because of Halloween and my preparations for the annual Dunyelping apple-bobbing tournament.

I needed to prepare for the big event and had already spied my big feline rival Brindley Milligan honing his skills with some windfalls.

At the bottom of the garden is a pond. It sits beneath an old apple tree and if I give it a big snouty nudge I can make the apples fall into the water. Then, by standing at the water’s edge, I can spend hours dipping my head into the murky slime catching apples bobbbing on the surface with my razor-sharp canines (they’re my big, pointy teeth).

I set my stopwatch and so far I’ve managed to grab 14 in five minutes, much better than Brindley’s pathetic eight.

However, towards the end I got a little too confident, stretched too far across the pond and fell in. Titter ye not Chipsters. It was a disaster. I was soaked.

So with my tail between my hind legs I sloped into my master’s house and sat beside the warm boiler in the kitchen and shook myself dry, creating a horrible mess and making him very cross. I’ve now been banned from the house.

Chip chip for now. Chipper