Wednesday 24 December 2008
The hyperactive child is asleep. The wife is wrapping presents. Monty is in his basket. Treacle is sitting next to me.
Me? I’ve just signed my Corporation Tax return and written a fat cheque to the Revenue.
Ho ho and, indeed, ho. Merry Christmas.
Thursday 22 May 2008
Last night saw a high powered meeting of the village elders here in Ruralville. The Ruralville village hall was converted at short notice and with remarkable speed into a centre for politicking and debate to rival anything that goes on in that other village, Westminster. Speakers passionately debated the matters of the day with argument meeting counter argument on the contentious issue of parking and yellow lines. Amusingly, there were attempts to press-gang attendees into becoming parish councillors, a dangerous path if ever I saw one. Thankfully, I seemed to escape by promising only to give the matter some consideration (a fine cop out, if ever I saw one).
Thereafter, everyone retired to the pub, where we were joined by Monty and our near-neighbour’s cat, Oscar. Oscar is only six months old and is similarly coloured to Monty. Monty seems to regard him as a mini-me. I suspect that he might receive some training and end up as Monty’s henchcat, sent out to deal with the marauding, food-stealing tabby and white that thinks he rules the neighbourhood. In any case, both seemed happy to wander into the pub to see where the hands that feed them had gone, but thought better of it once confronted with two dozing dogs under the table.
Wednesday 12 March 2008
Meanwhile, Matt the Bakiwop is walking for President.
Monday 16 July 2007
- 2.15pm – Monty walks into the house, limping
- 2.16pm – I get scratched as I try to see what the problem is
- 2.20pm – arrange 2.50pm appointment with the vet
- 2.23pm – phone Hels
- 2.25pm – dig cat carrier out of the shed
- 2.30pm – phone childminder to arrange collecting Tom early
- 2.32pm – leave home
- 2.40pm – collect Tom
- 2.50pm – arrive at vet
- 3.00pm – go into examination room, juggling cat, son and Miffy toy
- 3.02pm – vet extracts thorn from Monty’s paw, advising that if it had been left there would have been an abcess and general nastiness, and administers antibiotic
- 3.05pm – nurse agrees that Miffy is suffering from Dirty Ear Disease and needs a bath
- 3.06pm – nurse relieves yours truly of £32.41
- 3.15pm – arrive home. Release disgruntled cat. Monty licks his wounds on his paw. I lick the wound on my wallet.
Monday 16 April 2007
In case you thought I’d disappeared completely, we’ve been away in the Netherlands with no internet connection – which is a good thing, sometimes.
On our return, we appear to have been reduced to a single cat – Monty is nowhere to be seen, which is worrying. We asked a neighbour to pop round and feed them each day, which he has done superbly. Treacle is here and content, but there is no trace of Monty. He’s gone AWOL before when we’ve been away, but has usually turned up within 12 hours of our return – we’ve now been home for 14 hours and he has still to show himself. You can mark me down as “concerned”.
UPDATE: Ten hours after posting the above, Monty ambled in and demanded food with a "where the hell have you been?!" miaow. Much relief all-round, particularly as I’d already walked around Ruralville checking hedges, ditches and verges.