.... random rants and rambles. no agenda. yet.

It has been 20 days since I last blogged. Forgive me, O Whoever, for my sins.

Did you miss me? I thought not.

I don't know where all the time went, but now it's gone, so all I can do is blog about it. So, yeah, we went to Devon, attended a lovely wedding, then had a nice week walking on beaches and stuff, then came back home again, relatively unscathed, except for the fact that the journey there took 8 hours and 10 hours on the way back (we took a detour to see some friends and then C's parents). If you have ever shared the back seat of a car with a screaming baby, you will know that it is really not fun, and when you arrive at wherever you were headed, you will be so grateful that you could eat your own feet.

So, go to hell, Google Maps. You're doing it all wrong.

In fact, we nearly didn't make it home from Devon at all, because C helpfully hung our car key up with her parents', and her mum accidently took it to a local shop with her that morning and put them all down on the counter while she paid. Then, when she was leaving, the shop assistant held up our car key and asked if it was hers, so of course, she said no.

MUCH frantic searching later, we established this, so then I had to go along to the shop to identify our key, amidst funny looks from whoever was in the shop at the time. Sometimes, life is complicated.

In other news, it certainly seems to be Killer Cat Season at the moment. I AM NOT HAPPY ABOUT THIS. We've worked out that Harrythecat mercilessly likes to kill baby voles and other furry things that are too young and bewildered to know how to escape from his murdering clutches. NOT HAPPY. Also, apparently, Brian likes to eat the remains. DEFINITELY NO HAPPINESS.

All of this is made worse by the fact that the long grass in the field behind our house has been chopped down and made into haystacks, because this means that Harrythecat can find his poor defenceless prey more easily - I know this because I SAW HIM DO IT the other day - and it also makes my hayfever much worse... I had to get up really early this morning because I couldn't stand not being able to breathe and wanting to scratch my eyes out any longer. Sigh.

Mind you, now that the grass is down, C and I saw a fox in the early hours of this morning, far, far away up the hill. From the way that he was scurrying around, you could tell that he was thinking, "Where the f*** have they put my grass?!"

Precisely.

Posted by j at 11:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

As clearly illustrated in our house this morning:

While we were eating breakfast, the window cleaner was outside doing his job. Of course, this made Harrythedog bark and growl in a frenzy, defending us and his house from the scary man with the moving swooshy thing and the long metal thing, despite us telling him to calm down because the window cleaner is our FRIEND.

Then, when the window cleaner went round to the cats' side of the house, they studiously ignored him.

And us.

And each other.

Posted by j at 9:11 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

A belated MERRY CHRISTMAS to anyone who happens to be reading this, though if you are reading this mid-January sometime, you probably won't care any more.

So yeah, Christmas '08 has officially been and gone - and a very good one it was, too, involving trips up and down the M1, far too much food and drink and plenty of cheer. The cats have been retrieved from the cattery and since then have been very busy checking that everything is still in the same place as before (it is); if C will be very annoyed if they dig a good few clawsful of wool out of our new carpet (of course); and that the out-through-the-front-door, in-through-the-back-door function still works (it does, every sodding time) ... all's well there, then.

While not tap-dancing on C's bladder, our baby-to-come has acquired and borrowed a large number of items, including a pram-type thing, with another to come from another kind person, because apparently they need more than one for different stages of growth, weather, terrain, occasion and flavour. It is going to be fun to see if they'll all fit in our house.

And Harrythedog is exactly the same as usual, in a very reassuring way indeed.

In other news, click here to read more about what to do if you live around here and can sign, and are at a bit of a loose end on January 10th. I've never been called a sign language enthusiast before - it makes me laugh and think of binoculars and wellies (oh, OK, both of which I happen to own) - but there's something quite cool about it. We've no idea what's going to happen, but it looks like quite a few people will be coming, hopefully. And yes, I will be the one in wellies.

Posted by j at 3:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

44) Cats. Why? *hollow laughter* Many reasons.

a) They walk all over your desk (Harrythecat particularly loves walking through the signing gap about 50 times in a row) WHEN YOU ARE TRYING TO WORK, like so:

b) They leave muddy footprints in your diary. Which is quite cute, I suppose.

c) They want out, then in. Then out, then in. Then out, then in again. Then out again, then in again, ad infinitum.

d) They sit outside the office and meow on loop, causing C to look at me insanely and shout, I quote; "GET RID OF THAT CAT NOW OR I'LL THROW IT OUT OF THE WINDOW!"

e) When proceeding to follow the above instruction, I open the front door to throw one cat out, and the other one comes in, because it is time for a shift change, and they can't possibly let you have a minute of peace.

f) Despite all of the above, they somehow manage to make you love them. They are, after all, very good hot water bottle substitutes.

Posted by j at 10:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I'm probably OK really, but right now I'm on the sofa with a cup of something lemony that C made me, which also contains whisky for some reason. My brain feels like cotton wool, so I probably shouldn't be blogging. Testament to this is the fact that I've spent the last hour or so G00gling groggily for a piece of furniture that I can't find, don't really need and can't afford anyway.

G00gle should have some kind of STOP function after a while. For example, if it detects that someone is entering the same kind of search terms over and over again, after X minutes, it should freeze and there should be a pop up box with a message like "ARE YOU SURE YOU KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING?" or "PERHAPS YOU'RE GETTING A BIT OBSESSED NOW?"

My excuse is that I might be coming down with something. Of course, as luck would have it, C has a sore throat again, and isn't feeling herself either. Harrythecat is the ill-est creature in the house, though, with a cold and sneezes so powerful that he actually makes the furniture vibrate. G00gle says he needs to go to the vet tomorrow, and C is annoyed that I'm making more fuss over him (he looks so wretched!) than I did over her the last time the lurgy paid us a visit. Yeah, right.

So yeah, the lurgy is back. Any sympathy is welcome, especially any that is directed at C.

Posted by j at 7:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

This is my very favourite Harrythecat pose because he looks weird but ahh at the same time, kind of like he's doing cat yoga. (And in case anyone was wondering, the red thing next to him is a rose petal from the bush outside..!)

Humour me, please - post a caption below - come on, you know you want to!

Oh yes, you do.

Posted by j at 3:56 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

In answer to E's question, C and I did not go bat watching last night because apparently bats are members of Unison and were on strike. Yes, really. We found that out AFTER driving along a maze of twisty turny country roads, up a hill and having to turn around twice, but we didn't really mind because the views were so spectacular. Really, I am quite impressed that bats are mammals of principle.

So. we drove home and watched some bad TV instead, which was great, until C started warring with Brian who was trying to stalk Harrythecat while he was eating. Rather annoyed at being picked up and put on an armchair repeatedly when he WANTED TO STALK HARRYTHECAT, Brian jumped on the back of the sofa behind where C was sitting. Deciding that C was clearly the Devil Incarnate and must therefore be punished, he swivelled round with his back to her and directed a perfectly aimed spray AT THE BACK OF HER HEAD.

Yes.

I yelled "Oh, shit!" as I always do when panic ensues, then chased a stricken Brian around the living room and out of the front door while C ran upstairs and threw herself into the shower, totally grossed out and feeling everything else that people feel when a cat pisses on them (I wouldn't know!).

Poor C did manage to see the funny side in the end. And Brian doesn't know it, but this afternoon we are getting revenge by taking him to the vet, who will no doubt want to stick a thermometer up his bum.

Posted by j at 2:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

... EVEN IF YOU'RE A DOG PERSON LIKE ME?!

Go on, I dare you to tell me.

I DARE you.

Ha!

Posted by j at 1:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (9)

This morning I was just starting work when Harrythecat walked into the office and jumped onto the windowsill. I thought nothing of it, until he decided to stick his head out of the open window. Our office is on the first floor, so that wasn't a good idea. It was even worse when he climbed out of the window and walked along the ledge, ignoring me completely as I screamed

"nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

... and then he jumped down onto the lower roof (there's a bit that sticks out underneath the window), and was stuck.

Someone please remind me why we have cats?

Of course, this meant that I spent almost an hour rushing around the house trying to save him, and wondering why he had chosen to do that TODAY, when C isn't in, so I was stuck on my own having to be a solo hero. I didn't want to be a hero. I just wanted to work.

So anyway, I tried climbing up the ladder outside, but it was too short to reach the lower roof and I couldn't see anything when I was standing on it, so I went back indoors and kind of hung out of the window instead. I tried shutting the window. I tried opening the other window in the room next door. I tried shaking his food and his special favourite chicken and cheese treats. I even tried different voices, from the calm, confident "you can do it!" to the persuasive "good boy, come on!" to the downright panicked "please come up off the ledge, PLEASE!" Of course, none of that worked.

After a while, I realised that even if he wanted to stop miaowing in distress and try to save himself, Harrythecat would find it very difficult to jump back up on the ledge, because the angle of the roof meant that he might well double backwards and fall off the roof. Great.

OK, so; brainwave time. I dangled a towel out of the window for him to climb up, kind of like how people dangle sheets out of windows in burning buildings and use them to climb down, but the other way round. Did that work? No. I tried using the washing basket lid as a ladder, which of course didn't work either. Then I got the real ladder and dragged it upstairs and managed to steer it out of the window and prop it up on the lower roof so that he could simply walk up it and back into the office and have his breakfast and everything would be fine again.

Did that work? NO!

Instead, Harrythecat stared at the ladder as if it was something very strange and terrifying and he would never, ever be walking along it, no way on earth. Then, he steeled himself and kind of jumped a couple of times at a really awkward angle, which had me closing my eyes and saying "noooooooooooooooooooo!" to myself silently. Then, when I opened them again, all I could see was the end of a tail, poking out of the window of the room next door. Oh yes. He had jumped in, through the OTHER window, ALL BY HIMSELF.

And then Harrythecat went downstairs and ate a massive breakfast, with me sitting on the stairs watching him and remembering why we have a cat.

Posted by j at 11:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Is it normal for cats' whiskers to measure around 8 inches long? Yes, 8 inches. If not, I am contacting the Guinness Book of Records.

Posted by j at 10:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Oh yes, Brian is very cute, in a Shrek-like way.

Oh yes, we are perfectly happy to be his canteen/B&B/friendly local catnip supplier.

HOWEVER, we would much prefer that he didn't get into a spraying war with Harrythecat, because really, life is complicated enough without regularly going round the house with vinegar solution, peering suspiciously at any patches that vaguely resemble cat "liquid".

Solutions? We've tried them all. The latest was £40 spent on a calming diffuser thingy, special wipes and an exciting looking CSI-style torch. They better arrive soon!

Soon, soon, soon!

Posted by j at 3:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

This evening, Brian decided to move in, for reasons known only to himself. He is showing no desire to leave. Kind of like a sit-in. And yes, Harrythecat looks furious. Mind you, Harrythecat's default expression is furious.

Oh dear.

Posted by j at 7:32 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

The Dog, being the territorial creature he is, defended The Office doorway stubbornly. No was was he going to let The Cat in. In fact, The Cat could disappear forevermore, for all he cared; such an annoying animal it was. And anyway, The Dog felt strongly that The Office was his, because The People in it were to be defended at all times, including from The Cat.

Especially The Cat.

So there he stood, guarding the doorway to The Office and its inhabitants, growling softly. And there he stayed, until one of The People told him to stop being a horrible bully and leave The Cat alone.

And The Cat celebrated - as usual - by stalking annoyingly past The Dog and settling down for another day on The Dog's bed.

The Dog gave up. Again.

Posted by j at 12:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

This is an example of typical office life a la Team H@Do*:

He seems to be fixated by my desktop wallpaper, which is this fantastic photo of C doing a snow angel (you're never too old!) a couple of weeks ago**:

Oh, the wonders of modern catology.

* Feel free to visit our most excellent website. No, this is not a shameless advertising ploy. We do do free stuff too!

** Note to self: SORT OUT FLICKR! SOON!

Posted by j at 4:40 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Yes, I know another cat-related post. I'm sad like that. But mostly, I'm too tired to finish off my next post about Geocaching and stuff, so this is a lot easier (and by mentioning it now, I HAVE to finish it).

So anyway, this is an appeal for more wise words from my cat fan friends.

Now that we're apparently "proper cat owners" according to A The Mad Cat Lady, we've started feeding another cat. C has decided that he should be called Brian - he's almost definitely a boy because he's ginger - and he's really, really shy. Bless. He's also really, really hungry, definitely the biggest cat eater we've ever seen, and practically wolfs down bowl after bowl of food as if he's a dog, which is kind of worrying but what can we do?

Anyway that wasn't the question. My question is a bit weird: How do you know if cats like each other or not?

I ask because Harrythecat is rarely seen with Pussy, and if he does see her, he doesn't look very happy at all. However, he and Brian like to have staring competitions, which I didn't think was meant to be good, AND they like sitting together in front of the house; a mildly amusing image of much gingerness, which I thought was... good?

So what does that mean? Harrythecat always seems to sit higher up than Brian, which might mean that he's the dominant one? Or maybe it's all part of the mind games masterplan, and, as C says, Harrythecat has sent Brian round to milk us for all we're worth because he's worked out that we're soft and I'm a bit neurotic and also quite stupid because I let him sit on my arms while I'm typing, which sometimes really hurts, like he's doing now.

... or maybe it means nothing at all?

And I know I need to get out more, but I need to know!

Posted by j at 8:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Having animal co-workers is great!

When Harrythecat isn't sitting on my mobile phone or my diary, he is trying to pin my arms down so that I can't type, or can only move the mouse a bit. C thinks I should turf him off, but he is honestly too cute. He's also quite funny. Just now, when I banned him from walking over my arm for the 5th time this afternoon, he shot me a positively horrified look, stalked over the desk to his princess cushion (oh, yes!) and sat glowering with his back to me for several minutes. Priceless.

And Harrythedog? He only cares if there's food around... if not, he just kips. And farts. Not forgetting the farts! Oh, and after a particularly long day, he will stare at me crazily, barking urgently at intervals, until I shut down my computer and give in and take him for a walk ... a walk that we BOTH need.

The best thing about furry colleagues? They don't argue over whose turn it is to make coffee.

Posted by j at 2:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Posted by j at 4:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Hooray, I have finally uploaded my new header (if you can't see it, press SHIFT-REFRESH). While it is unimportant in the face of, er, important things, it was important to me in the name of Tidiness Of The Brain. Thanks must go to R for helping me to realise that ".JPG" should have been ".jpg" - a small but important detail.

ANYWAY. The image you see at the top of this page is of the very fine dry stone wall that is at the end of our back garden... while we don't own this wall, we are apparently 'in charge' of it, whatever that means. I guess we have to make sure it doesn't fall down or something, but there isn't much chance of that as it's as heavy as hell - much respect for the people who built it in the first place - so I'm not too worried.

I'm also less worried about Pussy now that our special new cat shelter arrived this morning (kind of from eBay, yes, T) and is in its rightful place outside. Is it weird to worry so much about a cat that you don't even know?! It's not as if I don't have anything else to worry about - believe me, I do - but anyway, it was important to me, especially as it's freezing here. I'd post a photo of the shelter, but it's really unexciting - kind of like a curved lump of "sandstone" coloured plastic with a hole in it - but as long as it does the job, that's OK with me.

So who'd have thought I'd be scouring the net for cat shelters?! I'm probably just going soft in my old age. Further evidence of this softness/old age is the fact that I am ALLOWING Harrythecat to stand menacingly on my lap as I type this, partially pinning my right arm to the desk and making it very difficult to type indeed. This is something I mercilessly wound A up about for years, before I too succumbed to The Control Of The Cat.

I have to go. He really won't let me type.

Posted by j at 4:46 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Dear Mr Corbett

In view of today's events, I thought I would write to express my concerns. You need to understand that, as you have only ever ventured outside our house for about 10 minutes at a time, disappearing for FOUR AND A HALF hours without warning today was particularly traumatising for C and I.

While we know that you cats like to disappear outside for hours and hours on end, as it was your first time, we didn't know if you would remember where you lived, or if you would even want to come home (i.e. you had only pretended to like us thus far, and were waiting for an Escape Opportunity). That is what your constant mind games do to us. It is both unfair and unreasonable to expect us to live like this - as Dog People, we expect to be shown more loyalty and gratitude.

Furthermore, when you finally arrived home covered in oil, it would have been nice if you hadn't hissed at Mr Barker, who had kindly spent a couple of hours shut in the living room for YOU, just in case you returned.

As I am prone to neurosis and worrying, I would greatly appreciate it if, next time, you would take heed of the following suggestions:

- Please return to the building approximately once an hour, if only to let us know that you haven't been crushed by a car;
- If this isn't possible, please take a small, brightly coloured flag with you so that you can be seen while you are killing voles and mice at a distance.
- When you hear me shaking your Chicken Treats in the garden, please make yourself known - because it means I need proof that you are alive. When you have done so, you may resume killing whichever small, defenceless animals you were pursuing.*
* Do not, under any circumstances, bring these small, defenceless animals home, DEAD OR ALIVE.

(And, as an aside, I wonder why your new Favourite Place on the landing was selected, as it is rather draughty and gives the impression you wish to operate as a CCTV camera?)

Anyway, now that you have shown us what you are capable of, we will not worry ourselves unduly next time... if there is a next time.

Thanking you,
Your landlady

Posted by j at 8:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Can anyone see a dry stone wall at the top of this blog? Let me know if you can, because I can't, and it's supposed to be there because it's my new header. Oh well - it's my own fault for being too lazy to go and get the external hard drive, plug it in and blahhhhhh *snips boring details*

So. Christmas is officially over. Our decorations are down, largely helped by Harry the cat, who (we suspect) knocked over our tree while we were out shopping the other day. This wouldn't have been quite so dramatic if a) the tree hadn't been 7 feet tall; b) it hadn't narrowly missed my new digital photo frame, C's new internet radio and our glass coffee table; and c) it hadn't happened on January 4th, which is the day that decorations are traditionally meant to come down. Spoooooky.

Herewith the dramatic evidence (*note the industrial-sized tin of Quality Street, brought by Ce, as it is an Essential Christmas Item. The tin no longer contains Quality Street. Hooray!):

Angel Number 1 landed flat on her face...

... while Angel Number 2 managed to stay upright, entangled in a mass of Christmas Tree Debris...

The cat rounded off his vandalism spree by throwing his bed halfway across the room and relocating to the dog's bed instead. Quite what was going through his mind, I don't know... maybe it was something to do with the fact that he's only just started to go outside, but it's too wet and cold to be fun, so he's sulking. Whatever.

In other news, me, C and Harry the dog - obviously - have bravely ignored my injured foot and managed to rack up about 10 miles' worth of canal towpath walking in the last couple of weeks. That's actually 20 miles if you consider how we do it on a there-and-back basis... only another 21 miles to Manchester (and a further 21 miles back). Hahahaha.

So anywayyyyyy I have to go and do more useful things, which means I need to make a pile of things to Freecycle because they are being replaced by new items, and because we now have millions of plates all over the place and C is trying patiently to do a jigsaw but there isn't room.

Ah, the trivial side of life. I like it!

Posted by j at 6:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

2007 was a year in which Things Happened. I hope 2008 is a year in which More Things Happen. Good Things; to me and to you all. After all, as KR just said in a text which managed to wriggle through the jammed network and find its way to my phone:

We will open the book. Its pages are blank. We are going to put words on them ourselves. The book is called Opportunity and its first chapter is New Year's Day!

... If the cat had a book, it would be a big, heavy spy novel, because everything is one huge conspiracy. He constantly unnerves me and C by stalking around suspiciously and staring at us through narrowed cat eyes, as if he is casing the joint and working out his new move in his 52-year masterplan. On the other hand, the dog's novel would be more like a comic; perhaps a Tom and Jerry-style one or something like that. He's easily pleased!

And my book? It's called To Be Continued...

Posted by j at 11:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

OK so I accidently broke my must-try-to-blog-1x-week rule, partly because I was busy doing Christmas stuff like eating too much and crawling slowly up and down the M1 in Crazy Festive Traffic (no, I didn't drive) to visit me and C's families... and partly because I have developed a kind of post-work allergy to computers and become strangely drawn to tragic Christmas TV instead.

Wow, that was a long sentence. The last one was much shorter.

But anyway, it all went very well and was enjoyed in all the right places, I am pleased to report. (I hope the same was true for anyone who is reading this!) And now I'm left with a Christmas Belly, a pile of cool pressies including a digital photo frame *yay!*, a permanent, vague hangover and an injured foot.

Yeeees. So our plans to go walking in the new year are now under threat because my foot is black and blue and doesn't work properly. I COULD explain how this happened but I don't think I would manage to do it very well - it was one of those "you had to be there" experiences - but I CAN say it involved the cat sitting in the wrong place, thus giving me a fright and nearly sending me tumbling downstairs, saved only by my foot. And no, I wasn't at all drunk.

Oh yes, the cat was involved. I need say no more. Instead, I'm hobbling downstairs, taking my Christmas Belly with me for more fuel, resolving to fight my new-found computerphobia in 2008 and blog more. Or something.

Posted by j at 11:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

It's official: Mr Corbett is a geek.

Herewith more evidence...

He loves computers, and kindly sent me into a panic tonight by walking across the laptop and turning the Number Lock on, which took me 5 minutes to work out. So... his new Favourite Place is the space between two computers - one dead [I thank you again for your recommendation, Joe!], one alive - which is much better than the dog's bed...

...so much better, in fact, that he has to be dragged away from the desk in order to come downstairs and be sociable and watch TV with us all. Ring any bells?!

I wonder if this all has some kind of hidden meaning? Or maybe it just means that cats are weird.

Posted by j at 8:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

First off, please admire our fine Christmas tree decor:

Will probably post a photo of it in its entirety - if anyone is remotely interested - when our angels are ready for the top. But they aren't yet. Instead, we have some groovy new LED lights, which make our living room look like a nightclub most of the time (only C knows how to switch on the 'peacefully glowing' setting).

HOWEVER, our neighbours are crazy for Christmas lights. Crazy, ker-azeeeee, indeed. We tried to get evidence, but taking photos from a moving car is not easy (I don't share C's view that it is perfectly normal and acceptable to walk down the street and stand in front of my neighbour's house with a camera, like some kind of paparazzi person)... however, I think this picture gives a pretty good idea of HOW crazy they are:

Yeees. Every single time I pass their house, my breath is taken away. Wow.

In other festive news, Ce has kindly elfed me and C, which can be seen here by anyone who wants to laugh at us (we did, several times).

And A has kindly sent us some cat nip, which looks suspiciously like a bunch of old herbs, and may or may not save our furniture - I haven't had time to put some in an old sock and wave it around in front of the cat's face as instructed - cat fans, you will be updated.

Have a happy weekend, all!

Posted by j at 5:47 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Don't you just hate it when everything breaks down just before Christmas, and you feel like "agh" because a) it costs money and b) you don't have time to deal with it because you're already spending your entire life trying to deal with the Pre Christmas Rush at work? Well, I do anyway.

And I know there are other things in the world more blogworthy that I should be moaning about, but I don't have the brainspace to think about them, so here is my list of breakages (in no particular order):

1) The car. Haaaaaa, of course it would be the car, because the car always breaks down just before Christmas every year. This year, not content with sustaining a dent after a youth* used it as - er - a trampoline, the car decided to have a puncture in its wheel too, which meant we had to drive around to no less than four garages this morning, before we found the one that was run by Tyre King, who knows everything there is to know about tyres. Then, while he was looking at it, we took the dog for a walk and almost got trampled by a herd of horses who ran at us (it's true... well, at least the dog almost got trampled). And now, we have to go back again tomorrow because Tyre King says blahhhhhh and blahhhhh and whatever, but mainly because it's the most complicated way of doing things.

*exhales*

2) The TV signal. Contrary to popular belief, living on a hill does not help you to get better TV signals, so tomorrow we are getting Sky TV**, because our electrician (who has been 11 times; we counted) said it's the only way we might actually see subtitles and proper TV channels and everything else that TVs are supposed to show.

3) My computer. Oh yes, siree. The Evil That Is V*sta has finally won the war and - er - done something. Sigh. So now my computer doesn't work without randomly switching itself off when I'm in the middle of the Pre Christmas Rush. Thank god for laptops, is all I can say, and that's strong coming from someone who hates laptops.

4) The dog.*** Who is now banned from under the bed for the rest of his life.

5) The cat. **** More catvice needed please, cat fans: how do you make a cat use his lovely new scratching pole thingy rather than scratching all of our doors and furniture to smithereens?

And that was my Broken Things Rant. Thank you and goodnight!

* - we think.
** - if you're interested in the special Dixons £75 deal and the website says it's sold out, don't be fooled because it isn't, and you can save a further 10% by putting in the code SKY10.
*** and **** - mainly just mentioned to annoy OPD, because she thinks I blog about the Harrys too much. And she is right!

Posted by j at 6:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (11)

... All blame/credit for the above must go to OPD, because she emailed me saying "I think this is very funny....you might not." and asked me to stick it on here. And I did, so I did.

But in all seriousness, the Government's carelessness and stupidity is not funny. Oh, no siree, it is not. There are many things I could say about it but I'm not in the mood.

Instead, I will tell my (in)visible blog readers our Harry Latest. They are both sulking because they went to the vet yesterday; Harry Corbett is convinced it's all a major conspiracy because we shut him in a box against his will and made him swallow an unidentified object, also against his will. And he is a cat, thus must be obeyed at all times, so he punished us by holding a hunger strike. Thankfully he has now given in and eaten, but is hiding behind Harry Barker's chair JUST TO MAKE SURE.

Harry Barker, meanwhile, is grumpy because he has hurt his back by over-chasing squirrels (at his age! oh, yes!) and is therefore banned from Under The Bed, which is one of his most favourite places in the world. He's tried to rebel and go there anyway but it's barricaded so he can't, so he has to stay in the office with me instead, WHICH IS NOT FUN.

And the over-nourished Pussy is nowhere to be seen, despite everyone's wise advice. Maybe s/he thinks we'll take her/him to the vet too?

Posted by j at 1:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I have just fed Pussy*, the neighbourhood stalker cat who keeps scaring me through the kitchen window, for the second day running (and about the 5th or 6th time in total). When I told C this, she just said "Oh good," and carried on talking to her Dad on the phone, as if it was all completely normal.

That's what I want to know... is it normal to feed cats when you've no idea who they are or where they came from, but they're ever so - dare I say it - cute, and you feel really sorry for them and worry that they aren't getting enough to eat? While I'm far from harbouring kittens and becoming a crazy cat woman like A [dodging thump], I need to know. Because if I/we are doing the wrong thing by feeding Pussy and s/he will become over-nourished, if there is such a thing, then I/we will have to stop.

In the meantime, Harry Corbett is smugly sitting in Harry Barker's chair, while Harry Barker pretends not to notice, instead making us feed him bits of toast because he knows we feel The Guilt. Badly.

* - Not his/her real name. Probably.

Posted by j at 12:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

Harry is learning how Harry is God, thus must be obeyed at all times. He knows this because Harry The God has almost completely taken over our house, by positioning himself right in the middle of the sofa where he has a good view of his surroundings. Most of the time, Harry The God is quite calm and sleepy, but when approached by Harry, he growls menacingly to warn him that he is only a dog, and thus has no right to claim ownership of a house, never mind a piece of furniture. Like me and C, Harry accepts that Harry The God is God, and grudgingly surrenders his freedom, mostly because it just seems easier that way.

No surprises there, then.

Posted by j at 8:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

To cut a long, long story short, yesterday we went to a cat rescue place in search of a 3-legged cat called Mandu, but ended up with a different cat, who has 4 legs and is much less grumpy and scary. In fact, he isn't grumpy or scary at all, and is very nice indeed. So without further ado, here he is!

His name? Harry. Oh yes, it is.

As Harry is 12, and has been called Harry for 12 years (as far as we know), we don't feel it's very polite to change his name now. So Harry stays Harry, and the other Harry (who has been Harry for 10 years) also stays Harry. It has been a very Harry-ed weekend, and rather confusing. My sis, who was staying with us, remarked how it's a bit like the two Ronnies. So, for obvious reasons, we have given them surnames, thus "upgrading" them to Harry Barker and Harry Corbett (if anyone wants to know which is which, I will be surprised). They sound like a pair of old men, which is kind of what they are... we're joking that Mr Corbett is here for his retirement, and so he is.

And do our two elderly gentlemen get on? Err, not really. Not yet, anyway. Mr Barker was delighted to see Mr Corbett, who did not share his view, hissing evilly at him in disgust. Mr Corbett, however, seems to really like me and C, which is a little surprising, but helps a lot.

Maybe we'll just call him H.

PS: For the record, we also went geocaching, but couldn't find caches 5 and 6 because the map and the land totally didn't match and we were cold and wet and muddy, so we took wee sis to see geocache 4 instead, and made her find it. She was thrilled.

Posted by j at 7:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)