I have a dark, secret prejudice: I don't like postmen. I know this isn't unusual amongst dogs, but I have an asbo from the post office. One time, when 'Junior Him' was answering the bell at the side gate, I managed to sneak out. Now I'd like to make it clear that I didn't actually harm the postman, but apparently a barking dog with ill intent, even an old, small one with blunt teeth, is sufficient. 'Her Indoors' got a letter warning that if there was any repeat of my poor behaviour, we would be blacklisted and they wouldn't deliver post to the house anymore. The shame. 'Her Indoors' was mortified and I was in big trouble for weeks. Since then, strenuous efforts have been made to keep me away from post/delivery people. We've got more warning signs than a nuclear weapons installation. 'Her Indoors', rather charitably in my opinion, wonders if a delivery/postal person was unkind to me at some point, but I can't really rationalise it myself; perhaps it's the shorts, but when I see a post person, the red mist descends. Anyway, I was out on my walk this morning,when we bumped into our local, friendly representative of the Royal Mail. Ignoring 'Her Indoors' warnings, he advanced, proferring a biscuit. I was so astonished I ate the biscuit and allowed him to stroke me. Years of prejudice were breached in one fell swoop. I can't make any promises moving forward, but perhaps old dogs can learn new tricks after all. Amazing!