The first two reviews in writing of the 2015 Ginger Ninja Calendar came from recipients in Belfast. First up, Uncle Bill, retired professional photographer:
Some lovely pictures of your splendid cat, but September 2014 is my all time favourite!
This is the one he’s talking about, probably not my boy’s Finest Moment. But it’s Uncle Bill’s wife who requested the calendar, so fair enough. Next, Kate, Aunt in Belfast’s carer:
I received your gorgeous calendar yesterday.
Obviously I was purring nearly as much as MasterB by this time. Aunt rang to say how pleased she was with her copy, and confided she has kept the 2011, 2012 and 2013 versions too, and enjoys looking at them. Continue reading
I have a few calendars still for sale. Three have crossed the pond and been received safely, a fourth is on its way. Two are in Belfast; one in Suffolk; ten have been reserved and will be handed over soon; six will have homes locally. Not sure that makes MasterB a global superstar just yet, but he’s working on it.
The feedback so far has been great. Here’s what Pix had to say:
CH just walked in with Master B’s calendar! Love it! Thank you Isobel!!!
So to remind you, in case you are hesitating, this is what the cover looks like:
Roll up, roll up! The box of calendars arrived today, and was opened a short time ago, and with minimal ceremony by Celia, who pronounced the contents good.
If you would like to buy one leave a comment here and I’ll contact you by email. They cost £8, plus £2.50 P&P for the UK. I need to check the overseas postage charge, but as it is only early November, it should be possible to use surface mail and still have them by January.
I have been slaving over the laptop; whittling the number of pictures down to a manageable figure for next year’s Ginger Ninja calendar.
I should dearly like to get it printed by the end of October.
Without giving the whole game away, the photos on the long list are these. Continue reading
I am sporting some impressive scratches on my right hand. I have been mauled. That is the best word for it. A lot of cold water flowed over my wounds before they even began to stop bleeding. Then they started again. My dinner companions, who included TBM, a friend made via these WordPress pages, were suitably horrified. No it wasn’t MasterB. How could it be? The students who found him on the street called him polite, and in his use of claws and teeth with me the word is accurate. It is completely inaccurate when it comes to his vocal demands and tantrums which would shame a toddler.
I am feeding Rosie, MasterB’s nemesis, the cat over the wall, while her family is away ski-ing. She’s lovely, a long haired honeybun of a cat who likes a conversation and a cuddle. She does not like her eyedrops. By extension, when I am administering said eyedrops, she doesn’t like me. Her revenge last night was as swift as it was savage. Today I took reinforcements; my friend Celia, wearing her gardening gloves, a towel and a pair of thick gloves I did not put on.
Rosie was delighted to see us both. We fed her, stroked her, sat down so she could join us, and tried to administer her medicine. The moment she realised we wanted to restrain her, she became determined to put space between herself and us.