Celia is back from Wales.
B&J, Celia, Mr Celia, Hartley, Romeo and I convened in the garden this evening over a bottle or two of wine.
There was more than a suggestion of autumn in the air.
Actually this was useful as tomorrow evening we are all, save Mr Celia who’ll be at the Cricket, off to an outdoor event, listening to Octavia’s niece singing in a Handel opera. Celia found her layers wanting within minutes, and although Hartley was doing his best to warm her by sitting on her knee, one of my fleeces was needed. I was trying out a combo of jumper (US sweater) and body warmer, which worked for the most part but there was a bit of a cool patch between the bottom of the warmer and the waistband of my jeans. B&J were rugged up. So it was something of a warmth dress rehearsal. I plan to take a blanket with me, possibly a flask, a quilt might be going too far. Maybe not.
It was lovely to have the gang reunited. Pre-Covid, Celia and Mr Celia hardly knew B&J. Now Celia says she can’t imagine life without them. They have all been wonderful carers of MasterB when I have been away in Ireland or more recently at das Boot. There are moments when the look in MasterB’s eye suggests he is wondering when I shall be away again so he can have the love and attention he deserves. Nothing in the diary at the moment, but there is Uncle Bill’s 100th in October.
I’m very much looking forward to be reunited with MasterB tonight. Having the dog, cat and kittens at Cousin’s is lovely, but none of them replaces my boy.
That said, and our reunion warmly anticipated at least on my part, I shall be delighted to see WestieBoy, Mistress Lily, Dizzy and Dora when I am next this side of the Irish Sea.
Last night I introduced Dizzy to the delights of technology, and he got the idea and the bug so quickly we were already talking about restricting his screen time access.
He reached a high score of 420. I was impressed. I deleted the game and tried to install another one, but my iPad decided this was all together too much and baulked, so I put it on my ‘phone, then had a little tussle reclaiming it from Dizzy. Still, it meant Dora was able to play undisturbed with the mouse which is everyone’s, including the dogs’, favourite toy, and to have forty winks undisturbed by her much larger brother.
Just look at that little face. I’m increasingly convinced she’s not from the same litter as Dizzy and that he is several weeks older than she. Did you see them with their mother, I asked Cousin. It transpires there were two adult cats with kittens. Do you think they could be from different litters? Oh yes, she replied, the man is a rascal. Dora remains shyer than Dizzy. That sentence is misleading. Dizzy and shyness are complete strangers. He has decided WestieBoy is his pal and role model and greets him confidently, quite without fear, and thinks his new big friend would be a handy cushion.
Dora claimed WestieBoy’s bed in front of the fire. Although it is much greyer than a week ago thanks to the muck and the slush that have stained the dog’s underbelly a dark brown, she seemed touchingly to think she was not highly visible.
Octavia’s gone home; MasterB is outside; the washing up is done; I am thinking about my bed.
Yesterday, I took a series of out of focus photos of MasterB. Afterwards, I realised I should hve filmed him. He was moving quickly, and most of my pictures simply showed a ginger blur.
Best of the Blur
It was annoying, because had I filmed him, it would have been a nice sequence.
I’ve had a great break at my cousin’s and it is nice to be home again. In an hour I’ll be able to collect the ginger ninja from the cattery. I’ve bought him a new biscuit ball and play tunnel, but having a cuddle is going to be the best bit. I expect he’ll want to go climbing outside and have some energetic play.
One of Cat’s nicknames was Monkey, but I never came home to find a picture knocked from its nail before.
That was the work of this Little Monkey.
She’s made it.
Tonight Mother sleeps in her new bed in her new room in her new home for the first time. Continue reading
Pictures of the riots and their aftermath were beamed all around the world.
It’s easy to imagine the place as a city under siege, or where the inhabitants are all at each others’ throats day and night, snarling and aggressive.
That’s not the London where I live, the London I know, the London I love. Continue reading
I was near the river this afternoon, at Bankside. That’s when I heard that traffic was all snarled up due to the student demo. I didn’t think too much about it.
On the way home, on foot, I saw a number of emergency vehicles, blue lights flashing, but that’s not unusual.
The helicopters were up, but that’s not unusual either when there’s a demo. We are routinely surveilled in London.
Cat was angling for some lap attention so I took the opportunity to sit down and watch Channel 4 News.
Scenes of determined violence around Parliament Square were juxtaposed surreally with the quiet calm of Central Lobby in the Palace of Westminster. I’ve not seen anything like this since the poll tax riots. Continue reading
The alarm clock woke me, and although all I wanted to do was turn back over and catch up on sleep, after a couple of minutes I swung myself out of bed and into the kitchen for some black coffee; I had forgotten to defrost the milk last night.
Two slices of toast and a banana later, I was sufficiently human to drive to the cattery. Continue reading