Cooked my goose…

In the proverbial doghouse (again).  My mum was going out this morning so a friend offered to take me out for a walk with his two dogs.  I know them all well so was really up for it and off we went.


Twenty minutes later he’s on the phone to my mum telling her I’ve run off and can she come help find me.  Well that went down a treat!

Before she could reach the playing fields (in her high heels), there’s another phone call telling her I’ve been recovered and she can go home.

She was not very happy and said I’d cooked my goose this time.  I love roast goose – we’ve had it the last two Christmases – but somewhow I don’t think that’s what she meant…




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