I adopted Not Cat a month after Cat died. I thought it was too early, but having seen his circumstances, I didn’t feel I had any option. Not if I really could call myself an animal lover.
The first weeks, I thought he was very sweet, but not the cat I wanted.
Slowly, that changed. Continue reading
It’s nearly midnight on Christmas Eve. Here, all is quiet. My friends left about half an hour ago. Not Cat is asleep. We exchanged and later opened some presents. I have a lovely ceramic to put on the wall. Not Cat was initially shy, then sociable.
The fairy lights twinkle. The gifts are all piled up. Westminster Abbey choir sings on the cd.
I had a Christian upbringing. My mother wanted to be a missionary but she met and married my father instead.
I’m not much of a believer, but the Christmas story touches something raw and hopeful year after year.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we all had selfless lives; if the lion did lie down with the lamb; if peace reigned over all the earth.
You don’t have to be a Christian to see that the Christian message, undiluted, stripped of the political, is one of hope for all humanity.
Merry Christmas everyone.
It has been a mild day, but all the same, fifteen minutes sitting on a metal bench at Cambridge ststion was more than enough. I was very happy to board the next train.
I have spent the day East seeing Mother.
She was asleep when I arrived, and when she woke was confused and disorientated. A clergyman came to see her. He seemed to feel I was more in need of blessing than Mother. Maybe he was right.
I took the opportunity to discuss funerals with him. My recent experience when my friend Alison died has made me aware how short a time one has at the crematorium. It turns out there is a chapel we can use very close to the home. This was good news.
This sounds crazy, but I really hope this will be Mother’s last Christmas. I don’t want her to die, yet I do. To see her further diminished would be heart breaking.
I had the end of life meeting with a nurse. The things we do and do not want. I signed. She witnessed. This feels better.
Mother ate a good lunch and nearly licked the pudding dish. She drank quantities of cranberry juice.
When I had finished the talking and signing we want back to poetry.
Brilliant. There is no other word for it. Yeats, Larkin, De La Mare, Masefield, Wordsworth, Roaetti. The old favouritea. And Jenny wotsit’s Warning.
Mother held my hand and tapped the rhythms. We sighed. We laughed. We kissed and rubbed noses.
It was lovely. Precious. Special.
I came home on the train with my heart lighter than it has been for weeks.
Aunt is visiting on Christmas Eve with Morher’s close and loyal friend. Nephew is visiting with a Labrador on Christmas Day.
This whole Christmas tree business is starting to make us feel a tad under-decorated here chez IsobelandCat. So I thought it was time to show that, although minus tinsel, baubles and fairy, we do have a nod towards the festive season in the bathroom, despite the fact that it doesn’t really go with the décor. Continue reading
The first week in December unleashes a host of Christmas fairs in London. Artists’ Studios are open, the Cattery has its do today. They are far more relaxing places to buy presents than the hurly burly of the West End.
I bought a couple of things from ceramic artist Lucy Smith http:/lucysmith.org.uk both of which I’d love myself. She kindly said she’d post them for me, so I don’t even have to wrap them them.
I love Barbara Wakefield’s ceramics too, /http://barbarawakefield.co.uk/and I am considering buying a piece on these lines for a musical friend next year. You can commission a particular extract from a favourite work.
Among the post today a hand written envelope. A rare enough occurrence to get me wondering.
Then I realised; it was my first Christmas card of the season.
Thank-you Vicky! It’s lovely. Continue reading
Last night was the final mosaics class this term. It felt very odd to be wishing people a Happy Christmas before November is over.
These were originally four posts over on MyT. It’s funny re-reading them. It seems such a long time ago, yet it’s only two years! Wow.
Christmas Afloat
Well, we finally made it. It’s Christmas Eve, and the Cat and I are preparing for our first night on board Das Boot. The Cat is asleep on the bed in the aft cabin and snoring, so presumably he’s accepted the situation. It’s taken several hours, some grooming with his new Christmas brush, and a bowl of prawns to achieve this harmony. At first he wanted to investigate outside but when I lifted him up and he realised he was surrounded by water he had very rapid second thoughts and spent the next couple of hours cowering under a stool. There’s been a Feliway thingy plugged in for the last two weeks as recommended by the Telegraph vet. It’s supposed to make cats feel zen, so that has helped too.
The sunset was beautiful and the only sound was of the lone angler casting his line over the water. As a contrast with my London address it couldn’t get much greater. There were a few people around earlier, illustrating beautifully just what messing about in boats means. Then the angler. Now all have gone, so it’s just me and the Cat. No car stereos booming out the beat, no frazzled parents struggling with kids and shopping, no raucous early evening drunks. No hot water either. The battery is flat despite being on charge for a couple of hours two weeks ago. No charged battery means no hot water without boiling kettles. So the floor is up in the forward cabin, so that the battery can be on charge.
I’ve attached the new bow fender, filled bottles with fresh water for drinking, had my first meal on board, put up the fairy lights and discovered the bathroom light doesn’t work. It’s a good thing I’m not scared of spiders as there are generations of them here. Due to the battery situation I haven’t had much opportunity to get to grips with housework in the forward cabin, so they are still in residence there. Some are quite beautiful. For all I know there’s a host of spiders who only live on boats. The aft cabin spiders are now on the pontoons for the night, or maybe they’ve managed to get themselves a billet on another boat. I saw an earwig too, but didn’t manage to scoop it up in my duster in time so for the moment it has a reprieve.
I still can’t get the fridge to work. It runs on gas, and there may be a valve somewhere I need to turn, but the whole thing is so cramped it’s like playing a game of Twister. You have to hold on the fuel while repeatedly hitting the ignite button and trying to see if the pilot light is coming on at the bottom of the fridge. It might be okay for someone about two feet high. I’ll give it another go in a while, but I think the gunwale will have to double as a larder overnight and if I want anything out of the bag I’ll just have to reach the window. I think I’ll survive.
Merry Christmas!
Continue reading
Christmas started officially chez IsobelandCat on Sunday.
More for the Isobel part than the Cat bit.
Each year, on the Sunday before Christmas, I attend the service of Nine Lessons and Carols at St Bartholomew the Great, in the City of London.
For those of you who don’t know it, it’s the church where Hugh Grant didn’t get married in Four Weddings etc. As a venue, it’s dramatic, beautiful and atmospheric. The choir is semi-professional. Sometimes a group of us meet up in The Rising Sun close by and swap cards and gifts before we go and sing our hearts out. Our numbers vary; I’ve gone alone, and as part of a group of twelve. Continue reading
This Christmas build up sure interferes with blogging.
Hope this makes you smile as you finish dressing the tree, welcoming guests and putting away the shopping.
Merry Christmas!
http://player.vimeo.com/video/2537691
Freakin Jingle Bells!!! from Mark Pfeffer on Vimeo.
