Two-fer Tuesday

Motorhead and a metal classic... and The Young Ones!

Music on a Monday: in memory of Dad

First in a series of songs we planned to play at Dad's funeral - but it didn't quite work out that way...

This was the ex-flattie's contribution to the discussion - and it was so perfect.

Cat-urday: boxes

Now, Simon's cat may like to hide in boxes - and so might Eve Sutton's famous cat (a classic book!)...


But - my cat likes to hide in cupboards. Or, she did when she was young. Or bookcases... or behind the washing machine. Anything but a box.

Thought for a Thursday

For some reason this quote - or bits of it - end up in my head... It can apply to so many situations.

The following winter was spent on schemes of the most salutary kind. To induce a people, hitherto scattered, uncivilized and therefore prone to fight, to grow pleasurably inured to peace and ease, Agricola gave private encouragement and official assistance to the building of temples, public squares and private mansions. He praised the keen and scolded the slack, and competition to gain honour from him was as effective as compulsion. Furthermore, he trained the sons of the chiefs in the liberal arts and expressed a preference for British natural ability over the trained skill of the Gauls. The result was that in place of distaste for the Latin language came a passion to command it. In the same way, our national dress came into favour and the toga was everywhere to be seen. And so the Britons were gradually led on to the amenities that make vice agreeable—arcades, baths and sumptuous banquets. They spoke of such novelties as `civilization', when really they were only a feature of enslavement.
Good old Tacitus...

Want on a Wednesday

A TARDIS tea cup - what more do you need?

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Cat-urday: memories of Raz

There he is - on our lovely 70s furniture and surrounded by 70s decor...

Raz - the cat who spoiled me for all subsequent cats.

The cat I guilt-tripped Dad into bringing home - but Dad, he'll die if we leave him here (poor Dad - never stood a chance). And Dad named him - Rasputin - his favourite song at the time.

Once home, this bedraggled stray kitten sat - probably on that very chair - while the housekeeper's dog (I think it was a doberman, but it could have been anything really!) came to investigate the new acquisition. To put it in perspective, I'm pretty sure we all hated the dog. So when this itty-bitty kitty took a swipe at the dog, and made its nose bleed - we were very happy.

Our hero!

He proceeded to rule the house. All visiting dogs - mainly Luke, my sister's cocker spaniel - bowed down before him.

If we went away on holiday, he would show his displeasure by pooing in a difficult-to-get-to corner of the lounge. He would also stamp across the carpet - loudly - and sit in front of the TV with his back to us. Just so we'd know he was pissed.

He was a great bed-cat. He would sleep at the foot of the bed, right in the middle, in a polite little circle. And not move all night.

He laughed in the face of pain.

And, thank goodness!, was really easy to get to the vet. You just opened the car door... He used to drive to school with me. The only problem came when he wondered what Dad's feet were doing.

He would gobble all his food - run outside and vomit it up - and run back inside to eat the other cat's food.

As he aged, he got some weird syndrome-thing. No one could figure it out. But it had entertainment value. If you scratched him in the right (or wrong, depending on your point of view) place - and sometimes, randomly - he would have a seizure and pee everywhere. And, because he was fitting - it was EVERY where. 

As he got older and sicker, and his kidneys failed, Mum caved in and would wrap him up in a towel in front, and a little bit, under the potbelly. Mum's psycho-cat would bring him food. First, dead things. Then - dead and skinned / de-feathered things, sometimes even de-boned. 

He died at 21. Much loved and pampered.

Everybody read now

I come from a family of readers. My mother taught me that it's much more worthwhile to read than do housework (thanks Sara for doing it for me. It's ok, I pay her!).

I'm going to do my best to indoctrinate Monkey... I bought her this book ages before she was born. It's signed by the author... Happy reading Whoever you turn out to be...

Just to prove that my family reads, here's Grumpy (the brother-in-law) and Smooch

So, even the cat reads...

Wishes on a Wednesday

The sort of sign I'd LOVE to see at work...


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Of course, non-smokers who don't whine are welcome...

Tom Jones Tuesday

For no apparent reason - I've decided it's Tom Jones Tuesday...



PS on the sock front: the babies will now be receiving 2 pairs of socks (believe me, the size discrepancy is quite noticeable) so I will now be knitting 18 pairs of socks for Christmas. I have knitted 8 pairs. I've adapted patterns from a couple of places in order to create MY perfect sock pattern for newborns up to bigfoot. Once I've tested it - by knitting a pair of each size (11 sizes in all - which means 2 pairs NOT for Christmas) - I will post a photo of all the sizes, and the pattern.