Being aware of some english readers we can as well carry on in their own language. So here we go, without spelling fears and grammatical hang-ups! Besides that I´ve mislaid my wordbook.I feel rotten today. It´s all silly breed clubs fault. I can´t live a day longer with morons and philistines! You get involved in club affairs and get treated like a serf, winged and shoot. It is labour thrown away. And for very little gratitude! Worse luck! Ain´t easy to be cheerful when your heart is pierced with arrows of criticism. One receives ridiculous accusations, such as your hair grows and you walk the street in the wrong direction... All prey heavily on ones mind. So far nobody has noticed that I was utterly right (in an important matter of principles) and the were utterly wrong. Yes! Us fragile egos FEEL more than others. We know the world is rotten and waists are ruined by rolls of fat. When I get rich and famous I will withdraw to a nice little retreat where things like doggy affairs don´t matter at all.I think one of the Chairpersons is going to resign. Serves the stupid bleeders right if they have to do all the club job on their own. Running a breed club is no joke. It is lots of hard work and no glamour at all. Next weekend is the AGM for both clubs. I am not going to attend. I predict a terrible row for one, rigor mortis for the other. Don´t know which is the worse. To be honest I´m sulking because no-one has cared to offer me an apology. Snotty, grotty dog people! Yuk! One of the ladies tried to bribe me into liking them again, offered thea and cakes and small attentions. Hard luck ma´am! Us sikessons never give in! If I ever go to a dog show again I will stand by the ring with a face like Eiger´s north side, remainding the culprits of their multiple sins.There are, however, some consolations. A loving husband, three wonderful daughters and their families, a beautiful young dog and his baby son, a new female (SV), 18 months of age, three fine-looking horses and a bunch of really good friends - all help to lift the gloomy introspection of Yours Truly´s moods. So I should go home and count my blessings. Now off for bed! I need my sleep for tomorrow we are preparing for the horseshow. Algot, the Shetland colt, has been poked and prodded, cleaned and brushed to the minute (I hope). So keep your fingers crossed!Good night to you all fellow peasants!---This reminds me of one late evening in a Dublin pub. It was silent for once, the regulars were contemplating. Suddenly there was a sound by the door from the outside dark, a High Noon-situation. One man, slighly advanced in liqour, lifted his head from the pint, saying:- Aim low lads! They are riding Shetlands...