Dangerous Mission but fearless throughout - well, almost...

Now we've all taken on a challenge from time to time. Some are challenging to mind and some physical but this week, against all reasonable advice from numerous intelligent sources, Grandad Tony decided to go for it big time.

This wasn't a challenge where his mind would be stretched to the limit with a tough Mensa quiz as he does them anyway with varying degrees of success. Neither was it a physical endeavour of Iron Man proportions as he never does them anyway despite years as a 'highly tuned athlete'. Oh no, this was something even tougher than Eddie Izzard's 43 marathons in 51 days a few years back, today Grandad Tony duly accompanied by both his two legged grandkids and his four legged trusty canine companion (the aforementioned three being the whole object of this monumental task), set off for the sub-zero surroundings of our town centre. Today the old fella was going walkabout in town with the possé, a feat never before attempted due to the very nature of the dangers.

Last week they attempted a pre-event training programme around Chez Grandad and all went well but there were a few important things that couldn't be attempted at the time - getting both kids and the dog in the car, getting both kids hats and gloves on after they were already out and about and of course, the picking up of doggie do's with no hands!!

So at precisely just after about 11.20ish, deadline time had arrived. Grandad planned to leave the hats and gloves off the kids until we were actually braving the elements. Sensibly he had already out the buggy in his car boot so that was one thing he got right and to be honest, as it turns out, it's about the only thing he got right. With ultimate precision he dropped Millie in the front seat, got OB buckled in his seat despite being more than slightly reluctant at first and then I simply followed him around and got in my seat. Grandad struggled with my seat belt but that was because I had one of my arms behind my back and I was also sat on my right leg. To say I looked uncomfortable would hint at a total understatement and with my carers excellent childcare skills, he noticed my discomfort immediately although a solution was a little longer in surfacing. Eventually, with the body contortion skills of that Houdini fella, I sat in my seat properly. However, the smile on grandad's face was slightly short lived when I complained that I was sitting on a ball (not my own I hasten to add but a big rubber bouncy ball that I'd left in the car last week). After a repeat performance of getting me sat back in my seat, we were in danger of not only getting to town after the shops had closed but more likely when the New Year sales had finished!!!!

Twenty minutes later and we arrived at our usual freebie car park and this is where the fun began again. Grandad looked through his copy of The Idiots Guide To Taking Your Grandchildren Into Town' and realised he was virtually on his own but he thought 'How tough can this be? I done it with one and the dog, two and the dog should be easy especially as OB was in his pushchair'.

Well, easy it was not. Entertaining it would've been right up there with any winner of X Factor!! His age old problem with the buggy raised its ugly head again but that was eventually dealt with. The plan was then put into place regarding the vehicle passengers: OB was first for the simple reason that he wouldn't run off. OB wasn't keen, OB wasn't keen at all. Grandad mastered the getting him in the buggy with immaculate precision and then he tried put OB's hat and gloves on. Actually, mummy had sent OB with mittens, not so its more comfortable for OB but more that it shouldn't pose too many problems for Grandad - WRONG. How hard can it be to get one little hand into one little mitten? One glove finally on, the attention turned to the other one. First the thumb, the the little finger missed the target and after what seemed an eternity, glove two fitted a treat. Once again, the smug look on grandad's face evaporated when OB shook his hands and both gloves shot past grandad's ears. Ages later and we were all clothed and on our way.

You'll be pleased to know that most of our trip went without incident, OB was asleep, Millie had cleared her bladder. We went to the park with the big lion in for Millie to empty her bowels (surgical name for pooh). Grandad parked the buggy next to the grass and with orders for me to stay with both buggy and baby whilst her put Millie on the grass about three feet away. As grandad moved a further foot away, I was worried that I may lose sight of him so I decided to help. The buggy was next to the grass so I went to pick up the front wheel over the grass, I've seem people do this when next to a big kerb as it helps with a more comfortable negotiation of the bump. Grandad's face turned to one of horror as my ploy to help only backfired as I tipped the whole buggy and its unsuspecting contents, upside down on the path. Grandad raced three feet (one metre in new money) to the crime scene at a speed that would put Usain Bolt to shame, only to find OB giggling away whilst doing an impression of an Australian!!! Back on three wheels, two legs and four legs, our fearless quartet continued its trip but now was a suitable time to head for home.

The afternoon was taken up in our usual way of preparing the evening meal for the two ladies in our lives: mummy and nanna (Millie doesn't really count as a lady). This week our meal would be a succulent 'cazuela de salchichdas con puré de patatas y verduras frescas'. I helped grandad peel the vegetables and potatoes and then I put the peely bits in the rubbish bag. We cut up the sausages and then grandad made a little mistake. He put them in one of those bags that you cook chicken in, it clearly said sausages on the side but it didn't seem right. On more occasions than I care to remember, I asked him where was the chicken but he simply brushed my observations aside. Nonetheless, we got all the stuff in the right pots and all with impeccable timing, dinner would be ready bang on time - although we were both unaware of what time it should be. Grandad always tears the packets of sauce stuff through the instructions so we didn't know if the oven had to be on gas mark 35 degrees for about 200 minutes or the other way around. One thing for sure was the potatoes would be good for mashing.

Now it was a pleasant surprise for me and no doubt an unwelcome one for grandad when nanna came home, gave me a big cuddle then immediately set about ridiculing grandad's attempt at mashed potato.

"It's too mushy" she said.

"It's meant to be, it's going to be mashed potato" said our Head Chef.

As nanna tipped off some of the water from the already mashed potato that hadn't been mashed yet, she rightly observed what can only be described as dollops of potato leaking into the sink. "Look, it's too splodgy' she said, 'It's all going down the sink".

"Well don't open the lid so far" grandad pointed out as he huffed and puffed but blew no house down. With that, he turned to OB and took his leave into the telly room muttering something about too many chefs, too wet, too much potato and Gordon Ramsay wouldn't put up with this. Eventually, with a peep from the steamer, tea was ready and we all sat down to enjoy it whilst grandad went for a bath before going off to work. After dinner was consumed and the ladies had finished their natter, me, OB and mummy headed for home and a hot bath of our own before retiring for the evening. Apparently OB slept for 10 hours and I had a dream about my advent calendar.......!!

Catch you next week

Dogg