Words seem a little immaterial next to the scenery but I decided to let the dog go swimming earlier today.

Full Image Set at http://www.flickr.com/photos/7985514@N05/

In the tradition of the great British male, I'm going to moan and whinge. In fact, I'm going to do it several times, all in one piece. Though I am not British myself, I feel I've lived here long enough to partake in the great British pastime of 'having a good ol' moan'.

Confident that I have qualified myself to moan, I shall begin my snivelling and belly-aching, emphasising the four things that most discombobulate me and abrade my sense of good cheer.

Foodies
Foodies are that curious group of people who live to eat. They simply adore adorning their food with fancy names, derived from the French language, which, incidentally, they usually have no other knowledge of. They hold "dinner parties", simply so that they might share the experience of food with like-minded individuals, and, of course, receive praise for their 'simply delightful' cooked produce.

My disapprobation of them perhaps wouldn't be quite so fierce, if they were to keep their passion to themselves. Alas, they don't. They can't help but drag others into their fantasy world, with their banal questions of "Oh, what do you think of the Moelleux? Isn't it simply divine?". Of course, they expect you to be as passionate in your response as they are in their questioning. They want you to retort with a collage of colourful expressions that befit their pretentious outlook on food. My advice? Say "it's OK" and move along to someone who has a proper hobby.

Dog Mummies
Hold me back! Hold me back! There is no doubt that you will have seen these people, for they exist in the millions. They are, it must be stated, usually women, and again, it must be said, often without children. These are the people who own dogs just so they can have a "child". Indeed, they refer to their dogs as their "babies".

They speak to them, they buy them game consoles, they even have a room dedicated to their 'babies'! Oh yes, they really do. They refuse to accept that their dog is capable of walking, and instead carry it around everywhere they go, clutching it to their breast; presumably to suckle.

Again, this would be fine if it were not for the fact that it causes a great many behavioural issues for the dog, which it then gets punished for at a later date. If you treat your dog like a spoiled child, that is essentially what you end up with. As the saying goes: you always end up with the dog you wanted.

It's not just sad and pathetic, it's cruel!

Shopping
Let me clean the toilet with my tongue, let me walk hot coals, let me chew on broken glass. Anything that will save me from the nightmare that is shopping. Shopping should come with a health warning. It's singularly the most stressful thing a man could ever attempt.

You see, us men, we're a peculiar lot. We're not generally that keen on standing right in the middle of the aisles, grouped around our barricade trolleys, discussing how much the price of tampons has increased over the past few weeks, and what a cheek it is upping the price on essential items. Nor are we that keen on standing patiently behind people, as they spend twenty minutes reading labels and blocking us from getting the item that we want.

However, all of the above becomes all the more painful when you add old people into the mix. The moment I smell an old person, well, that peculiar urine stench they carry about with them, I know that I'm going t have to start walking at one pace for each ten minutes that passes. The size of their coat alone is enough to hinder you, as you can't see past it!

Please, for the love of God, let's dispense with shopping. No good can ever come of it.

Reality Television
There have been moments that I feel decidedly cheated by modern television. If I look out of my living-room window, I see normal people going about their business. Indeed, as I write, a woman, who lives two doors down, is reversing her car, as she usually does around this time each day. It's routine, and not in the least bit interesting. And that, dear reader, is the point, it's not bloody interesting!

I have no connection whatsoever with that woman who lives near me. Given that, I sure as hell have no connection with some egocentric idiot, fresh out of university, who feels that getting his knob out for television is the way for him to get ahead in life. But each and every day we are forced to pay to watch this arid and banal nonsense. Big Brother is the most prolific crook in this field. Whenever I have happened upon it, it has shown people laying down, asleep in their beds. How bloody catatonic do you have to be in order to feel entertained by such tripe? However, I'm told that I just catch it at the wrong time. Sometimes, I might even get to see them wandering around the kitchen - in their slippers! Ooooooh.

The television makers even want us to care about the people on it. Who do I want to vote out this week? All of the them would suit me just fine!

So there we have it. I feel cleansed. In fact, I feel more British now than I did when I started. Rule Britannia!

I'm a simple man, with simple dreams, and simple tastes. I like order, and I like things to be uniform. I'm at ease with life when I know what I'm dealing with. Such is my reliance on order and unifomity, I struggle in trying to understand those who don't need them.

Thankfully, the road of order and uniformity, at least in terms of web standards, is not as abandoned as it once was. I frequently find myself tipping my hat to fellow enthusiasts and supporters as I wander around the quirky plains of the 'intameweb'.

When I first step foot on the path of W3C adherance, I used to despise those fanatics who, it seemed to me, would constantly berate those who didn't drink from the same cup of ideals. Yet, here I am today, sharing their frustration and their despair. They're just like me it seems. They like an easy life. They like night to follow day, and they understand that because we have a clear definition of day and night, we are all better able to plan and execute our lives. If this same order could be applied to the web, things would, if you ask them, be much easier. So why do so many seem to be afraid to embrace W3C standards when building websites?

Personally, I can think of several reasons to embrace standards, but not a single one to ignore them. Yet, millions upon millions of site designers and webmasters do completely ignore them. Some people claim that it's too difficult to work to the W3C standards. Others argue that the standards are too restrictive, or are out of touch with the way that the web is used today. I disagree. Indeed, I am proud to be part of the Immerse CMS team, which is developing a full-blown, AJAX-powered content management system, and is 100% W3C standards compliant, as is the website that advertises and delivers it.

I have to be honest, I can't even recall the last time I created a non-standards website. In fact, I'll go one step further and say that I think it's harder to create a good-looking non-standards compliant website, than it is to create a good-looking standards compliant one.

And yet, despite there being more information about how to meet these standards than you could possibly ever need, and an ever increasing audience for standards compliant websites, many (actually, most) sites come nowhere near meeting the W3C standards. Even major sites, such as Microsoft and Sun Microsystems don't even pretend to have an interest in them. Indeed, even the site I am now typing this blog entry on shows to have 49 validation errors on the homepage, as well as layout issues in Internet Exploder 6. (No, that wasn't a typo.) I'd like to say this was quite unique. Alas, it isn't. People just don't seem to care about their site presentation these days. It's as if it's become acceptable to dish out second rate visuals because the web is so commonplace. I disagree with this notion -- strongly.

So why are so many sites still snubbing the W3C and why should I care?

I care because I genuinely believe that the web is a much better place and a much more controllable beast when everyone is shooting at the same goal. I care because it shows me that the owner of X, Y, or Z site cares about their business. They want me, the customer, to have a smooth experience. They've taken the trouble to look after the front-end, and so I am, experience is telling me, far more likely to trust them to shop with, for example, as I believe more time will have been spent on security too.

Why are so many still snubbing the standards? I can only presume it's down to a combination of laziness and ignorance. Many people, I know, think they can put it off and "do it at the end". It never works that way around. You either care to make it happen at the start, or, again in my experience, you don't care at all, let alone care enough to bolt it on at the end.

One thing I do know is that the number of people who, like me, care a great deal, is not getting smaller. Some day it's going to be too important to ignore, as the cost of doing so will drive an unacceptable number of visitors away from the site, as that number seek to find sites which match their ideals. The days where we could just say "content is king" and sleep well at night are, I fear, long gone.

I'm not one of life's big readers, it must be said. I used to be, in my younger days, when time was something that had no monetary value, when hours were counted by the number of new girlfriends I had, and responsibility stretched as far as having to tidy my bedroom once a week. These days, give me a non-fiction text book, and I'll read it from cover to cover, but fiction? That's for girls and men who cross-dress on Sunday lunchtimes and call themselves Stephanie.

However, three days ago, my partner came home, carrying a mysterious green carrier bag. Naturally, I quizzed her on the contents of the portable cloaking device. She told me she had purchased some more books. (She is an avid reader and thus beats me hands-down in most general knowledge quizzes, it should be noted.) "Ah", I replied, before returning to my business, showing no further interest in pursuing the titles.

A few hours later, as I sat plotting world-dominance at my computer, (something that I have done for years, to no avail) I heard small waves of chuckling wafting in from the patio. My ears perked. This required investigation. I crept to the living room door and peeked through to see my partner sat outside, basking in the unusually (for this time of year) bright warm sun, reading a book and laughing. Had the next part not have happened, I would have been happy to leave it at that and return to my world domination exploits. But it did happen. It had to didn't it? I noticed the picture of a dog on the front cover. Really, I tried to fight it. My brain was shouting "Don't get drawn in. Retreat! Pull back, man!" Alas, my body took on a will of its own and I ventured forth. "What's it about?", I quizzed, hoping that she might, understanding that I read extremely quickly, say something like "Here, I think you might like it. I'll read it tomorrow on the train." Did she? No. She just made my suffering worse.

She explained to me that it was a story titled "Walking Ollie" by Stephen Foster. "It's about a man who wasn't particularly into dogs who purchased a Lurcher and how wild the Lurcher is and how, despite is best efforts, the dog doesn't like him.", she continued, seemingly unaware of my now green eyes. "It's about dogs?", I quizzed. "Yeah, I think you..." Ah-ha! I shouted (internally) she's caving in. I get the book now! "might like it"., she added. Was that it? No "so why don't you read it now, as you're such a quick reader and I'll read it tomorrow on the train"? ******. This called for a cunning Plan B!

Plan B was drafted with cub-scout precision. I would wait until she took a break and then I would read the preface, just to see what it was about. I felt sure that if I read that, I would get the nonsense out of my system. And so, the moment came, and I put Plan B into action.

She put the book down and ventured out of the room. She's left the book on a chair in the corner of the room, face down, with the current page touching the cushion. I slipped my finger into the book in order that I might place it back after I read the preface before she returned. (Yes, it's true, I really do read that quickly.) I read it, and instantly fell in love with it.

A few minutes had passed and I heard her footsteps; she was returning. My brain began to race with a dozen plans, some more practical than others: I could set the book alight so that neither of us could read it, thus I wouldn't feel excluded. I could hide it and start scolding Blondi, our German Shepherd, for having eaten it, and then take it outside to read, or I could stick to that children's favourite - just don't look up and hope you don't get spotted. I would go with that one. Children have been doing this successfully at bedtimes for decades. I had no reason to doubt its effectiveness.

Through the corner of my eye, I could see her drawing nearer. "Ah, she's going to ask for it back, I know she is.", I worryingly thought to myself. "Want some lunch?", she asked. This was a marked Homer Simpson "Woo Hoo" moment. Plan B complete! Huston, we have the book. Repeat, we have the book! "Er, yes", I replied. "Salad pittas would be nice.", I added, without looking up. Remember, if you can't see the issue, it doesn't exist. Ask any petulant child. Talking of children; I recall telling one off once and of all the things he could have said in response, he chose "I will throw something at you. Something wooden". Why he chose wood as his preferred material, I never did quite work out. Perhaps, given his very young age, he had to take his own strength into account, and figured that in terms of 'bang for buck', his best bet would be wood.

Anyway, within just a few minutes, my lunch arrived. This gave rise to one of those clumsy moments. How could I keep the book and grasp my lunch at the same time? This could easily end up being one of those ransom scenarios where she would have to hand the lunch over to me as I handed over the book. My mind began to think in a panic; "What should I do? I know, eyes down, hold the hand out and hope she just hands over the lunch without requesting the book in return." Sure enough, it worked. She handed over the lunch without fuss (though I was convinced she was planning to launch a surprise attack). It seems that I am alone in my deviousness and that my partner doesn't think as lowly as I do. Actually, I think I knew this already.

Then came that other awkward moment that many a reader will tell you about. New paperbacks are unrivalled in their springiness. You open the page, and if you don't weld it open and then happen to lift just the smallest slither of finger from the page, it jumps back and the book closes on you, losing your position.

By this time I was really hooked into the book, and I mean really hooked. But I was hungry too. I did that thing that you see people on trains do. I tried to lean forwards, to place my elbows on the book, eat, and carry on reading at the same time. That didn't work as I'm too gangly, and ended up looking like I was doing that rocking thing that many autism sufferers do . I finally managed to hold the book between my knees and read it from a small distance. Even that wasn't perfect as I had to keep putting the sandwich down to turn the page. There's an invention waiting to be dreamed up here, I swear there is.

And now, I have read the book, and so too has my partner, I'm pleased to say. This book is absolutely perfect for anyone who has ever rescued a dog and is aware of the trials and tribulations that can come about as a result of it.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Walking-Olli.../dp/1904977529

The author is very clever. As I was reading it, I kept thinking, "I know this guy. I know I know him". As it turns out, I don't. However, his writing is so casual that you really do feel, as a dog walker, you've passed him a thousand times over many months, through howling winds, freezing snow, and torrential rains. He is each one of us with 'problem dogs'. I really do recommend the book.

However, the story doesn't end there. Inspired by the story of Ollie, and more importantly, the nonchalant attitude of Ollie's owner, I made a decision this morning before I took Blondi for her walk. Today was the day that I was going to try letting her off the leash to run around the field.

For those who don't know our story, Blondi was a rescue GSD who came to us last May, with a desperate aggression towards others, a steam-train puller on the leash, no recall, and just "sit" recognition to her name.

During this time, we've had Rob Alleyne, from Dog Borstal over, been training her like training is going out of fashion, and just wondering why we ever decided to make our lives so much more difficult in the first place. Today, she doesn't pull on the leash at all, and is actually a real pleasure to have on the leash. When passing other dogs, there is still agitation, but it's rarer and rarer that she barks at them or lunges at them. Recall is great around the garden but largely untested in the big wide world due to her aggression towards other dogs.

However, today, I was determined. Blondi would experience the feeling of the wind rushing around her ears, and the unbridled freedom of the wide open space as she bolted around the very large field with complete abandonment.

She and I approached the field. The clinking of her long-link chain collar (she slips every other collar type devised by Man) grew faster as her excitement built up. Secretly, I think she knew that something special was coming as usually we avoid the field most of time.

I looked around cautiously. My neck stretched up like a meer-cat, checking for other dogs and people. Blondi is great with people, but in that field, if you see people, then that's a good sign that a dog is close by too. I could see two people on the very far end of the field, but they were quite some distance away. I looked around once more, just to be sure. "Shall I?", I quizzed.

Without any further ado, I released the leash and stood in awe as she ran around like a dog should be! As a grown man, I came about as close to tears as I like to come, I think. I tested the recall, and while not great, she came back eventually. I wasn't expecting brilliance, as I was sure she would want to make the most of the opportunity. I could have stood and watched her for hours, but I could see the other dogs getting closer. I'm a born worrier and the last thing I like to do is cause trouble for others dog walkers and so I placed her back on the leash.

I could, I suppose, place a muzzle on her, but she came to us with one of those big awful basket muzzles and I've always hated them. I think it sends out the wrong signal to people and I just feel that with the right control and fore-thought, they're not really required. But, never say never, as they say. If it allows her to run around without the ability to harm other dogs, then maybe it's time I revised that....

Either way, we'll do it again tomorrow, and it was, regardless of how short the experience, a wonder to see!