A friend of mine is sending out daily writing promts and I thought I would treat you all to today’s offering. The title of this post is the phrase we were given this morning.


This isn’t my story. I could spend time explaining how I acquired it – in the passenger seat of a Nissan Prairie back when Top Gear reviewed real cars – but I think the tale is strong enough to speak for itself.

It happened in the depths of Scotland’s amethist hills, to the sound of Cliff Richard’s ‘Please Don’t Tease’ at number one. A highland farmer watched as his dog give birth and quietly, without a word, went to fetch a bucket of water. He was a practical man, firmly believing that animals should lead a working life and adhere to the rule that only birds sported green plumage.

That being the case, he picked the emerald pup from the litter and plopped it into the waiting bucket.

And that was that.

Time passed and the farmer forgot about the dog. The puppies grew, began work, and remained the proper colour for spaniels. Winter set in, and our protagonist’s evenings began to grow darker. His nights slowly came to be claimed by his local pub.

It was on one of these such nights that the newspaper announced, black and white and taunting, that a green spaniel pup had been sold for £10,000.

The farmer sat back on his stool, smiled a little to himself and shook his head.

“Oh well,” he said, “Oh well.”