Home » Musings » Dog-walking adventures (Part 54 of millions): The Glass Nobula

dog2The memory’s a funny thing right, one moment you’re musing over what to eat for lunch, not tuna pasta againnnnnnnn when for absolutely no reason at all you’re thinking about your best friend’s phone number from when you were 7, you can still remember it, why? It must be taking a space in your head for more valuable information, this is worrying me, I know the lyrics to at least a billion songs too (80% of them ’80s classics probably, one day there will be a use for knowing the words to Glen Medeiros’s ‘Nothing’s gonna change my love for you’ and when that day comes well whatta day that will be, the day will be, oh yes, it may be another 50 years from now, but it will come, I’ve seen the future).

It’s pretty remote where we go dog walking, so dancing, busting out a move shouldn’t be something frowned upon no or even go unpractised, in fact it would be more unusual if that didn’t happen more often. You know when you’ve just gotta dance, when you’ve just got to hit that last drum beat in the air, that was today, I was bumbling along as normal when the last few ohhss yeahhhss and wooohss of Bruno (Mars) just screamed out, dance mofo dance, dance right now. I totally did, this wasn’t a pop video in your head like normal, this was a pop video right there in actual daylight in full view of the birds, the rabbits, the dog, and err oh dear, a random dog walker approaching who totally pretended not to see my do a spin-around and right arm outstretched into the air with a yeahhhhh baby, he either ignored it as is typical British politeness, maybe he was blind (his dog suggested he wasn’t, the dog definitely saw me do a Bruno move, he wasn’t impressed either), or just maybe it was a pretty weird thing to see on a remote dog walk, as the fellow  dog walker shuffled by pretending nothing out of the ordinary happened he tripped over a stone, he pretended not to notice that happened to him as well. Funny chap, I wonder what else he doesn’t notice, I said “afternoon” in a very non-commit way, yup, he ignored it, so I ran up behind him, jumped on his back and screamed “Piggyyyybacktimeeeeee” ok, that last bit didn’t happen, but man what if it did, what if it really did and we rode off into the cloudy day laughing and ahhhhing at what a funny old world it is. Aretha agreed, she was next on.

Aretha’s musing over some kind of walking apparatus over some kind of streamy brook type deal, ohhh yeah, she knows what she’s doing, she’s not just a soul legend but a soul cover that tune legend too, ahhhhh it’s like too much when she’s singing, just to me just to meeeeee, and err maybe anyone else who’s typed Aretha into their Spotify recently, it’s impossible nto to be affected by the spiritual songs by the oohhhing and the ahhhhing LIKEEEEEEEE A BRIIIIDDDDDGGGEEEEE you said it owwwwwww don’t trouble the wadddderrrrr. It may be freezing here where I am typing, it may be time to take the monster for a walk (the dog, I don’t have a monster any more, he went back to Skaro once Doctor Who slipped seamlessly back into fashion, didn’t even say goodbye, didn’t even say Happy Birthday on my birthday, didn’t even exterminate the badger at the end of the garden, I mean, what good is a monster if it can’t even cover a simple back garden shenanigan?). Aretha also did a mean mean meannnnnnn cover of Elton’s ‘Border song’ I need to dig that one out, it’s deep, real deep, not as deep as the boot that properly got stuck in the mud that a fellow dog-walker encountered last week, wait, ‘Border Song’ is wayyyy deeper, it’s so deep it’s still travelling to the centre of the Earth, and I should know, I spent a lot of time there near the magnetic core, it did wonders for my back. Shut up.

I met a Bob today. After the usual inane dog chatter that inevitably occured whilst our dogs did their doggy dance Bob took the strange route of asking me if I’d seen the glass nobula yet. The what? Yep, you’re not alone, the problem is that you never know where these conversations are going to go, I mean this Bob seemed normal on the surface of things, but any random stranger that talks to you on a fairly succluded dog-walk (and trust me, where I go, this is as succluded as you can get, I mean I am driving out of my way literally just to get away from the inane dog chatter, yet even on the remotest of walks there are inevitably people that not just want to talk to you but want to engage in conversation far surpassing the expected average and normal length of conversation or indeed surpassing the normal accepted conventions of basic normalcy.

“The Glass Nebula?” I politely humoured.

“The Glass Nobula, don’t tell me you haven’t seen it yet, I thought you said you were a regular walker along these woods.”

I tied up the conversation with as much politeness I could muster, let him know in a roundabout way that he was clearly a touch nobula himself and said my cheerios, which took too long, it felt like ten minutes but am sure was only around, well, ten. As I hurried away using the dog as an excuse to extract oursleves from this Bob Nob, he was still there talking to me, he was one of those… one of those that no matter how many times you say goodbye, they still don’t get the hint, as I strolled over the hill I didn’t look back in fear that he was still going at it making up more small talk, poor chap I thought as I walked-sped away, probably the only conversation he gets in a day.

Once a clear distance away I tried to forget about Bob with some James Brown. Hunnhhhhh, hit me, urghhhh, waoooowwwwwww, that was doing it, I refrained from some dance moves, but could it, in the far far distance some zombie-like guy was strutting his stuff, was too far away to tell. Could it be that perhaps many a man and dog came to this woods with the very intention of breaking out moves using the seemingly anonymity of the place? Weird. The zombie was so far in the distance it was one of those ‘are they walking towards me or walking away from me?’ type deals. Anyway, after some time I found myself at the same spot where I’d potentially saw them strut their stuff when you can call be Benny if I didn’t spot the Glass Nobula. The loon was right after all. He told me that there was a glass-like rock sticking out of the ground that looked like someone’s elbow with both protusions of the ‘arm’ being lodged firmly in the ground. It reminded me of an ornament my parents had in the lounge that I accidentally smashed once when we were playing indoor football. I knew Mum would be annoyed about the broken ornament, it was a glass artsy-fartsy statue of two I don’t really know what, two glass strands twining upwards in an upwardly twiney type deal, it was hideous. Anyway, me and a pal totally smashed it to twiney tiny pieces…. at the time I thought my luck was in, recently at school my friend (also) called Bob smashed a window whilst playing football, he gallantly went straight to the teacher and confessed ‘I just broke that window’ well I’d never seen such clever own-up-ness, it was inspiring. So I thought I would employ the same ploy here with Mum, she would surely be so impressed by my very mature manner of owning up to the breakage that the how thing would be all fine thanks to my being such a good boy grown-up about things…. unfortunately this was not the case, I faintly recall a clump around the ear, my friend sent home, some wailing about how it was a wedding present that they’d had for fifteen years and it was priceless (I remember thinking, well if it didn’t have a price then it was obviously cheap and so who cares), sad times (for Mum) the funny thing was that now that it was broken I recall thinking that I’d never even seen it before, had it been there before even? Who would miss it?

Anyway, back to the woods, the Glass Nobula, there it was, apparently it had mystical powers although Bob was pretty vague on the specifics of the actual mysticism. I bent down to touch it, the dog too did it’s fair share of investigative observation, I took a photo of it although since deleted it as many family members casually scroll through my photos unashamedly and I didn’t want to have to go into the inevitable ‘err why do you have a picture of a glassy stone amongst all the pics of the family, is that what you do on your long dog walks then is it? Take random pictures of random stones, oh look there’s an interesting stone, why didn’t you take a photo of that one? Why was that one so interesting?’ Exactly, that’s a conversation I can happily and plainly avoid thank you very much. I gave the stone a little kick, a little push, nope, this strange rarity was fully lodged in the grassy bank. I had the though of even licking the strange protubrence, now look, don’t go thinking this is weird, it’s the same thing with a battery right? Who hasn’t put their tongue to it to see what it tastes like at least once before? Ok, that may be a little weird, anyway obviously I didn’t lick it, the dog did, but then they lick pretty much fifty thousand things a day, double if it’s food related.

That’s it really, there is no humourous ending to this errr this umm episode, only that, well this may wrap things up just a little, I’ve tried to tell people about the Glass Nobula, the strangeness of the texture, the oddity of the placement, the randomness of this thing just plain sticking out of a hill, yet, no matter how hard I’ve tried, no matter how intresting I have made it sound, it always simply always met with a ‘how very boring’ type of comment, if indeed there is a comment at all. Fine. If however, you join me for a walk, and I show you this Glass Nobula trust me on this, you’ll be intrigued too, just trust me, alright, you’re right, it’s dull. In fact just delete this whole monolgue from your memory. What? What monologue? Ohhhh I’ve watched too much Sooty! Until next time dog walkers, peace out.

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