One for sorrow?

The KC has twigged we are going away soon. The sight of suitcases brings her out in a rash of very uncharacteristic cuddles and a noticeable increase in the more characteristic carnage (did I mention the recent snake?). Gifts of dead birds / mice / frogs etc are just her little way of showing me just how much she loves me. So I really shouldn't've been that surprised, as I was pottering about this morning changing the bed for her catsitter (who she adores) & piling stuff up for our much anticipated Scottish summer holiday, that the KC surpassed herself. I heard an almighty screeching coming from downstairs. Good grief I thought, that’s a very loud Magpie – in fact you’d think there was a Magpie actually in the house based on that noise .... then a very loud & pointed MEOW floated upstairs & I thought – uh oh, hang on and ran downstairs into the conservatory where I saw the KC furiously rushing up & down in front of one of the sideboards & heard flapping & LOUD screeching & saw lots of – well bird cr@p everywhere – and suddenly saw an enormous beak pop up behind said sideboard attached to a fledgling Magpie!! How on earth the KC had managed to catch this thing was beyond me – it was almost as big as her (see honest to scale images) but more scary was its general pointy-ness / spikey-ness – it seemed to be all claws & beak & shrieking! Hubby was packing for a quick biz trip before hols which meant he heard nothing as he can actually honestly only do one thing at a time & if he’s packing it means he can’t hear, so I had to think quickly before blood & feathers joined the bird poo. Opening all doors & windows in the conservatory (but not the roof windows, no time) I managed to ‘persuade’ the ‘little’ magpie out from behind the furniture. Now here I am trying to save it & what does it do? Flies straight into the only closed window! Oy vey! Slightly dazed it then realised that a whole double door was wide open & finally flew back out into the garden but then perched back on the trellis from where it had been originally nabbed by the KC! Who was now back lying in wait... DOH! So I ran after it & shooed it off to the top of the leylandi. One of the few places the KC cannot get to ... then relaxed a little... although the KC is now fossicking about in a clump of Montbretia; lord knows what's next on her "this will show mummy I love her" list.

I saw a mouse – where???

There under the nest of tables!! About the size of my thumbnail, all big eyes & ears, shaking in the corner whilst the Killer Cat (KC) scratched furiously trying to move the tables, mewing like her life depended on getting this poor tiny thing! Ever the vegetarian, I got on my hands & knees & peered under the table legs & could see this tiny weenie thing & realised I had to hatch a rescue plan. I needed to distract the KC with treats and my sincere voice – no really kitty, little mouse has gone! Took a while but distracted she was & finally wandered off into the garden. So I then got my ice cream tub (with lid, used frequently for escapes from KC), the fly swat & thought oh simple. Will put tub down as the place to run & swat gently & hey poncho! One saved baby field mouse. But stupid mouse didn’t realise it was being saved & instead of sensibly shooting into the open tub it went hell for leather across the floor of the lounge. Yikes! I then did a hands & knees scouring & as I was doing so KC came back and decided to lend a hand – but no, little mouse had (or so I thought) saved itself. KC sniffed about a bit, got bored & went & lay in the sunshine. Life then continued its merry way – episode of Neighbours, the Radio 4 comedy slot, dinner & a night sat out in the glorious cool of the evening with some neighbours talking cats (they have 2 and female half of couple is thrilled she is no longer crazy cat lady – there are now 2 of us!), life & the universe, happily gossiping not noticing the quantity of alcohol or the time until – cripes that’s 3 bottles of wine and it’s midnight!! So off we staggered to bed groaning slightly but thinking oh well at least we’ll get 6 good hours. Oh no. Of course not. Our own personal Tom & Jerry cartoon started up about 4am. Mouse had decided to stage a comeback not realising the KC was lying in wait. First came the thundering up the stairs, followed by KC yowling & Mouse squealing (a lot of noise for such a tiny thing!) then there was the thud of our door being barrel rolled open, then a great scratching & then jumping onto the bed (KC not mouse) & then scrabbling under the bed & then the light went on & cats name was called sternly then – silence! Nothing. Nada. Nyet. Hubby & I peered under bed, we checked under furniture, lifted cushions. I went into the hallway. Nothing to report. Called out again to KC – to be met with silence. Hmm. Was it a bad dream? So shut door firmly & went back to sleep. Hungover & exhausted we roused ourselves at 6.45 and opened the door expecting carnage. Nope. All was as it should be. All we got was a good telling off for having shut KC out. But then she didn’t head straight out this morning as she normally does which is a slight worry. She is currently sniffing about under cupboards & looking in shoes. Could the mouse really still be in the house?

Hong Kong Fooey?

Have managed to get my concentration back & aforementioned easily distracted project is finished. Now the sun is shining & I am pondering a long & very thorough report from a Feng Shui Lady!! OK OK those of you who know me won’t be too surprised. Anyhow, I love love love this house but there have been a series of – ooh – problems & mishaps since we moved in. As follows (1) in December I was diagnosed with pernicious anaemia and Vaso-Depressive syncope (I faint basically – all Jane Austen like), (2) in March I broke my foot- for no apparent reason (AND on that same fateful day the lovely Jo hurt her knee in this very house so badly she needed surgery ... hmmm..) (3) Hubby is constantly tired & complains he sleeps badly (OK I could shut the cat out so she can’t jump on him at 5am but that would be mean) (4) business has been pretty rubbish (what do you mean global recession?). (6) Hubby would like new unstressful job but doesn't know where to start. So nice Feng Shui lady came & looked about the house & said a few sensible things immediately (like how bad the hall energy is. I knew that!). She had worked out all of our PA Kua numbers too (I’m a 6 apparently) and with those numbers in mind started to work things out with her huge compass. Then she took some pictures & toddled off to prepare the large report I am going through. And it’s a good job we didn’t decorate before she came as we had been toying with a rich purple-y grey colour for the living room and it needs to be green for maximum positive energy. So green it will be (will go with my curtains & cushions so no problem –phew!) I had also thought about a similar sludge / dark grey tone for our bedroom only to be told no no - current colour a disaster for hubby and dark grey would be worse, pure white is ideal. The downstairs loo is blue & this colour in this area is a disaster for my health (aha!) so I must paint that out white ASAP too and the kid’s bathroom is in Hubby's success area & again is the wrong colour for him so out goes the sea green & in comes terracotta (new job here he comes!). There were some mad things like placing a silver urn of water near to the hob to dissipate the negative ‘fire at heaven’s gate’ energy and getting rid completely of a sofa (so where would we all sit??) but apart from that all made a lot of sense & all seems pretty simple. Now isn't that always the way?

Driven to distraction...

What is it about having huge amounts of work to do that focuses the mind on everything but that really important time critical work? I have a really challenging project to pull together challenging on every level & what am I doing? Faffing that’s what. Am writing this bloggy thing for one, am also ordering groceries online, hanging out the washing, weeding bits of the garden as I take a small constitutional whilst talking to the cat, choosing paint colours from paint charts, & wallowing in the delights of Neighbours! The project file is open on my computer but every time I start typing / thinking / analysing a little voice in my head goes “ooh have you thought about just quickly....?” and I’m off! The fact there is also a carpenter banging about upstairs isn’t helping granted but I am incapable of concentration right now. I am even debating making a batch of scones. Is this project just so so hard or am I sliding into senility? Think I need to take a break & make a cup of tea. Will make Mr Carpenter a cup too... hmm, now what shall I have for dinner?

walk the line

A hundred years ago it would seem I had what you could call a bit of an accident. On 16th March (not that the date is indelibly marked in my brain) whilst doing nothing more strenuous than walking up the garden, I fractured the 2nd metatarsal in my right foot. 12 weeks on I am sat in Hamburg, strapped back tight into my lovely Beckham boot as I completely misjudged my recovery. For the last 2 weeks I have been happily wombling about the house in Birkenstocks (SEXY!!) feeling little to no pain. So, I thought a trip to Hamburg would be a breeze. Lovely hubbie insisted I pack “the boot” as I was all gung ho about being fixed but he was less convinced. And thank the lord I did. Cab arrived at 6am Tuesday & I staggered out thinking ooh, ouch must be ‘cos so early. Got to Heathrow and after I had loaded myself up like a pack horse with heavy PC bag, handbag & large suitcase, I suddenly realised I had increased my weight significantly. And each step was bone stretching agony…to cut to the chase by the time I got to my meeting here I was a pain wrecked gibbering heap. I had a flight to Manila booked on Monday & my client took one look at me & said NO – cancel you’re not going anywhere in that state! So all I have to do now is negotiate my way home. Slowly, carefully and with good old Beckham boot firmly on. Which will be a hoot going through security!

Back to the 80's

Oh my. What an evening. Poor stressed hubby was ensconced in late night talks in that City place he spends most of his life (long chats now as parliament decision will directly affect his job) so the cat & I decided to hunker down to 1½ hours of 1980’s TOTP performances. Well cat stayed with me till Wham! appeared & I started singing at the top of my (bad) voice! What joy the charts were then! Songs with the most nonsensical stupid lyrics with a great beat you could belt out whilst dancing ‘round the sofa (and trust me if foot better I would’ve been go-go-ing with George). Frankie relaxed, Peter Burns when he was normal was spinning, Bronski were beating, and don’t get me started on Ah Ha! The delicious Morten Harket .... never mind the sun on his TV ... Needing to share my joy I texted lovely ex who was in music biz in the 80’s and the past became present (‘Remember the Bronski beat girl who owed our landlady rent!’ ‘Drinking champagne in Japan with Roland from Tears for Fears’ (ex not me!) ‘How did I miss that George was gay?!’). Sadly it all got a bit dull and formulaic as the decade progressed – despite the last song being Lisa Stansfield’s ‘Been around the world’ which is a corker, and I started to feel v sorry for my step kids. We actually left the house wearing customised curtains, black lipstick, frilly shirts & huge bows in our backcombed hair & our grannies shoes with lurex ankle socks. We wanted to look like Adam Ant for god’s sake, a man who would’ve been quite at home in any Pirates of the Caribbean film! George Michael took to the stage in neon fingerless gloves & lycra shorts & Duran Duran went to the beach wearing Antony Price shiny suits. Boy George wore panstick & crimson lipstick & lampshades as hats and I think perming lotion actually ran out in 1986. And who have today’s teenagers got? Personality bypass stick insect Cheryl talentless Cole the check out girl. The 80’s may have been about money & excess but at least we had a sense of humour back then.

Nothing

100 years ago (it would seem) I thought I would blog musings from the world of the faux housewife in deepest suburban Surrey. Why faux? Well I'm not officially a housewife - I have a job. I run a business but I do it from home. As such a la housewife, I am in when the postman comes, when the door to door fish salesman knocks, when the window cleaner appears and I can go & "do" coffee with my neighbours & potter in the garden at lunchtime or hang out with the worlds most spoiled cat when work is slow.
But every time I approached the blog to add words of great wisdom I found myself thinking I have nothing to report, which got me thinking about “nothing”. “Oh it’s nothing” we say when questioned about an array of things – new clothes, an injury, a cold, an amazing dinner we have provided, an achievement. Why? it's something surely! And on reflection plenty of interesting / amusing / painful (like a broken foot. ouch) things have happened. Or have I stumbled upon a female only thing. Hey ho. Think I'll join the cat for a snooze and ponder some more