It is a cold bright morning. I am wearing my new heat generating socks from Marks and Spencer, but I can't feel any improvement. MasterB, after a noisy night, is curled up on the bed looking sleepy. The coots are swimming around the boats. Swans are out on the river. Gunshot is nearer than I would like. Someone is going to be eating pheasant this week.
Photos, unless from the iPad will have to wait until I get home, but I do plan to take some. I love the marina when it is like this, and just MasterB and me here. Maybe he can have some shore leave. He has so far not used the litter tray and has scorned the expensive sachet I opened for him. I should like him to have a poo before I leave for Mother's so that I can take it with me and dispose of it, rather than coming back to a foul smelling boat. There are voices nearby now, a river cruiser is going by, heading for Cambridge probably.
The sun had just risen, and the moon still hung whitely in the pale blue sky. Buster hurried around the park, nose to the ground, tail held high. Every now and then, he stopped, raised his head and sniffed the air.
Lucy watched him from the children’s playground. She had been coming here for ever, but now the swing was a little too low, a little too narrow for comfort. Her heels scraped the ground.
Some grown-ups frowned when they saw her there. She was growing into that vague space of adolescence; neither child nor adult, but something inbetween.
The squirrel didn’t seem too worried. It ran in an apparently effortless sprint to the end of the garden with Not Cat in hot pursuit, his bell ringing wildly.
First the squirrel, then Not Cat ran up the cherry tree. The leaves obscure what happened next. I assume the squirrel made a gravity defying leap onto the neighbouring wall, but i couldn’t see from the bedroom window.
I finished dressing and went outside. Not Cat was still in the tree. He came down when I called and made that plaintive miaowing that cats do when their prey has escaped. The squirrel was nowhere to be seen.
the paw on my cheek
breaks my dreams and signals you
want me to wake up
I’ve just been downloading my photos and looking at them. Time for a couple of Cat from this weekend. the first yesterday evening, while it was still light and before the Invasion of the Bugs; the second from this morning when he decided the table where I was planning to have my breakfast was a good spot to sleep.
Swans by the water
This morning was every bit as beautiful as yesterday. This time I took some photos. The swans are so tame they swim up as soon as you appear, so I didn’t manage to photograph them doing as many swanny things as I’d have liked.
The geese looked on derisively. Tonight they and all their pals have taken over the field. They’ll be there half the night, grazing and honking away, like habitual drinkers at a favourite pub.
Cat was happier and more relaxed when I left, sleeping in slanted sunlight.