Charity begins at home

We seem to have cocked up slightly on this one.  For the last two years we have been collecting assiduously for the "Smelling dogs for the Anosmic" charity.  A lot of Beaker time and effort went into this.  Young Keith single-handedly cycled from Little Brickhill to Northampton on his cycling pub crawl.  OK, he spent six months in hospital after he accidentally cycled down the "up" slip road of Junction 14, but he got into a lot of pubs and made a lot of money.

Likewise Drayton Parslow spent three weeks sitting in a bath of baked beans.  He wasn't sponsored or anything, he just thought it might be interesting.

Hnaef's sponsored Beowulf reading clashing with the Brass Bandathon was likewise an exciting but strangely unlikely way of raising money.  But let's face it, it's not about doing anything sensible or constructive - it's the thought that counts.

So after all that we finally raised the money. And "Honey" arrived.  A lovely golden labrador that has been trained to be a Smelling Dog for the anosmic.  

Now I'll confess, I hadn't really thought how this would work.  Maybe, I thought, the dog learns how to mime certain dangerous aromas - gas, for example, or smoke.  Maybe - at a pinch - it could indicate that a particular meal was a bit strong on the garlic. 

It never occurred to me that when Honey was described as a "smelling dog" that's exactly what she is.  All the genes that produce the smell of wet labrador, carefully crossed for maximum effect.

I hope we can move back into the Great House next Tuesday.  If the cleaners can find the necessary NBC suits.