The Bluestocking Women's Pub, in which Gosie returns to the trail

How is Colin's French - he's all right for sausage ads, but is he sophisticated enough to be the face and voice of
<breathy French accent>
SAUCISSON. POUR CHIEN.
?
Maybe he could audition for our next product launch:

STICK.™
carefully-sourced arboreal by-products from responsibly managed FSC-certified woodland.
eco-friendly harvesting methods - branches removed by natural movement of air from high to low pressure areas.
for every STICK™product purchased we plant a tree in our own native woodland on the unspoilt slopes of Peak Woo.

STICK™
SAVING THE EARTH, ONE 'FETCH' AT A TIME

Hm. Most dachshunds take ‘Fetch’ as a suggestion to be followed up if they feel like it. Can the AI capture the side eye look of ‘If you wanted the damned thing, why did you throw it away you fool?’.

Well I was doing my best to find a gig for Colin, but if he's not right for the job, sorry Colin darling, maybe next week, eh? Don't call us, we'll call you..

‘If you wanted the damned thing, why did you throw it away you fool?’.😂😂

Hmmm yes I like the way you're thinking -
but STICK.™ products are crafted by Nature, not by human hands, and we wouldn't want to stray into making <gasp> misleading claims in our ads now would we?😆

You might want organic in there too. And perhaps non-UPF.

Gubbins settles herself on the bench in front of the Bluestocking, triangle poised like a tragic instrument of destiny. She inhales, dramatic as only a bored gerbil can be… and begins her full soliloquy.

🎵 Gubbins’ Full Triangle Soliloquy (A one‑gerbil performance of despair, boredom, and metallic punctuation)

Gubbins:

“Tiiiiing…

The summer holidays stretch before me like an endless desert of NOTHINGNESS.

A vast wasteland of hours where absolutely nothing happens except me… and my triangle… and my sorrow.

ting.

“Ting‑ting…

I have done EVERYTHING a young gerbil could possibly do before lunchtime. I have communed with goats. I have frolicked with micro pigs. I have visited Balrog in her sauna‑like quarters. I have jogged with Gillian, who is too fit for her own good. I have played badminton with Ted, who used Boiledbeetle as a shuttlecock and didn’t even apologise.

ting‑ting‑ting.

“Tiiiiiiiiing…

I have eaten three breakfasts. Three! That is the maximum number of breakfasts a gerbil can consume without becoming legally classified as ‘a menace’. And yet… I remain bored.

long slow tiiiiiing.

“Ting…

I tidied my room. I made my bed. I folded my socks. I even dusted the shelf behind the shelf. I have achieved domestic greatness. And STILL the universe offers me no entertainment.

ting‑ting.

“Tiiiiing…

Why must Mum work ALL DAY? Why must she be catering manager instead of Gubbins Manager? Why must she say things like ‘Stay close, Gubbins’ and ‘Don’t climb into the dishwasher again’?

ting.

“Ting‑ting‑ting…

Why can’t a famous musician burst through the Bluestocking doors and declare, ‘Gubbins! Your triangle skills are unparalleled! Come with me on tour!’ I would go. I would go instantly. I would pack my triangle and my emergency snacks and I would become a legend.

TIIIIING.

“Tiiiiiiiiiiiiing…

But no. Instead I sit here, a prodigy unrecognised, a virtuoso uncelebrated, a bored gerbil with nothing but her triangle and her dreams.

slow reverberating tiiiiiing.

“Ting…

Perhaps I shall invent a new genre: Triangular Melancholy. Or Sorrow‑Metal. Or Boredom‑Percussion. Or ‘Please Someone Entertain Me Before I Explode’.
ting‑ting‑ting‑ting.

“Tiiiiing…

Oh holidays, why are you so long? Why do you stretch like a giant elastic band of misery? Why must I endure DAYS of nothingness when I could be learning algebra or practising my triangle in front of an appreciative audience of gerbils who clap politely?

ting.

“Tiiiiiiiiing…

I am Gubbins. I am bored. I am dramatic. And I shall ting until the world understands my plight.”

long, echoing tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.

There is more than one, but there are whole areas that don’t have pubs because the Quakers settled in Darlington and were tee-total (at the time).

I have an ex-boyfriend who was from there who explained this. I assume he was correct because I left him due to his alcoholism 😂

Kitty noticed the noise & would like to play with Gubbins’s triangle. While Gubbins is still holding it would be best because then she can jump & try to catch it. Would that be ok?

The sizes are a bit off but I’m not sure anyone’s bothered about that at the Bluestocking, & it’s a lovely picture otherwise!

And in various sizes, S, M, L. for different sized dogs.

Gubbins’s job is to run round the gardens, holding the triangle for Kitty to chase and jump at.

Kitty will try to remember she’s hunting the triangle, not Gubbins’s tail.

"The Darlington Arms" is a pub in Camelford.

Also with a range of smells, depending on what they’ve been rubbed with / poked into?

I love Gubbins.

Fox poo! Roast chicken! Sausages!

Oh Gubbins. I wish I could have introduced you to MissPasta aged 7-13, as you would have been soulmates in melodrama. She could have accompanied you on under rehearsed recorder or clarinet, age depending.

That girl behaved as if I personally created lockdown like Mother Gothel with the soul purpose of keeping her away from friends.

Me during lockdown:.