Lovely start to the day. Dog developed a severe bout of the squits over night and practically covered the garden with his own shade of mustard.
After half an hour of clearing this up I then had to do the walk of shame to the poo bin down the road. I say the walk of shame not because I think it's wrong to put my dog poo in the bin for the park. I doubt there is a radius within which the poo must be done to allow it access to the bin. The shame comes from the overly conspicuous Tesco carrier bag that I have to heave along with me.
Of course, when one wants to be discreet, the world and his wife are out. I had to stop at various points on my journey to exchange pleasantries about the weather etc whilst being painfully aware of my smelly cargo.
Others had tiny nappy sacks obviously containing poo from their own pooches. They can even gesticulate without worry of spillage and apparently enjoy odourless poop scooping whilst I stand in their midst with my sackful of effluence that honks to high heaven.
Why can I never be graceful and effortless in my endeavours?