Ringing patience by the ear and having fun

There's a curious thing that happens when the church bells ring in the distance: Bessy starts balancing candles on her left ear and wags her tail like there's a pile of her favourite comics in front of her. Margaret thinks she met Pavlov before she was born. I've no idea, but the bells were silent this morning and Bessy didn't do any balancing or wagging. I'm not sure what that means for her.

I took the day off today in order to count the gravel stones we have on the driveway. George left a note yesterday suggesting this would be a useful exercise in acquiring the art of patience and then of self-respect. I was looking for neither, but clearly George thought I should be, so I sat down in the gravel and felt like I was three years old again. What a joy, I forgot there was a day to pass and totally forgot to be patient.

Which brings me back to the bells. I reckon one either has a Pavlovian ability to remain patient when the stimuli suggests one shouldn't. Or one never met Pavlov in the first place. All very interesting.