"Why don't you ever say anything nice about me?" asked Ma after yesterday's post. She seems to have missed the point - that my memories of her cracking us kids up are happy ones that speak volumes about her fabulously silly sense of humour, one that seems directly inheirited from her father. But here are some nice things about my Ma.

• She's unquestionably the most supportive person in my life.
• She taught me lots of terrifically useful life skills - how to take cuttings of plants, how to make roux, how to ease a seam, and countless other things.
• She is one strong and feisty lady who knows how to work a crowbar and whose garden is magnificent.
• She makes a mean sponge cake.

Will that do, Ma? I have more but it might seem like fawning... which brings me to:

Squid's Techniques For Making Friends.

1. When you enter the park, briefly say hi to the dogs you know and like.

2. Then ignore them. Forsake them for others - preferably those whom you have met before, and know to be hostile and intolerant of your foolish antics.

3. Use your full repertoire of ingratiating, obseqious charms to try to win them over. Simpering, tail-wagging, puppy eyes, the works.

4. Persist, even when they have their teeth in your neck and make you yelp.

5. Go back for more.

6. Repeat daily. They will come around, eventually.

I don't know why she does this. When I identify someone who hates my guts, I generally steer clear and allow them to do so from a distance. My pup's optimism is endearing, though - she's so convinced that one day they will see the light and play with her. She's a Missionary for the Church of Squid. She doesn't bother preaching to the converted, only them heathens.