Cat owners will know the niggling worry when a wandering feline doesn’t return at the expected time. Usually you shrug it off and the cat turns up a few hours later, quashing your exclamations of relief with a look of withering contempt.
Today’s been a day when that slight nagging worry turned into panic when a neighbour saw Dudley hiding and obviously injured. A day of moral support and kindness as good friends and neighbours rallied to help us track him down, and a growing sense of foreboding about just how quiet he was in the car on the way to the emergency vets. And the worst news an hour later, that his injuries – probably caused by a car – were not going to be treatable.
The last year and a bit has been so much happier for being shared with our cocky, confident and affectionate Brexit Cat, who has scrapped continually with every other cat on the street, whilst simultaneously making best friends with all their owners. It’s been a pleasure watching his journey from inquisitive new arrival to chilled out master of the house whose praises we quite literally sang, as he lounged in the sunniest armchair with his paws shading his eyes. It was a journey that I wish had lasted longer.
Sleep tight Duds. We’ll miss you.
I hope you don’t mind, but 6YO won’t be coming into school on her last day on Tuesday armed with a ‘thank you teacher’ card and present. It’s not because we don’t appreciate you, but just because I suspect that with 30 children in the class, you’ll be getting more cards and chocolates than you can comfortably carry to your car in one journey. Continue reading
Nearly two years ago, the Husband decided to switch to a
faddy low carb diet to see if it helped with various niggling health problems (you can read about that here if you’re interested). It did, and he’s stuck with it, but it also had the unintended consequence of driving me permanently out of the kitchen. Continue reading
Does it feel like your children never stop asking questions? I decided to make a list of all the questions 6YO asked me over a three day period. This is what she came up with… Continue reading
Edward Lear was born on this day in 1812. In case you didn’t know, he’s the writer of what has been called “the nation’s favourite poem”, The Owl and the Pussycat. (I presume in this case “the nation” in question is England, rather than the UK, as I can’t imagine that the Scots would choose Lear over Burns, or the Welsh rate him ahead of Dylan Thomas, but that’s another matter).
It’s Sunday night, so time to share a song. Helen’s prompt this week is ‘pain’, which I suspect is exactly what I’m going to be feeling tomorrow morning, after I walked up this bad boy this afternoon (Pendle Hill in Lancashire if you’re interested).
That’s me in the foreground; the dot in the distance just before the next wall is, I think, my 12YO daughter, who reached the top about half an hour before I did! Anyway, I digress. Here’s Johnny Cash, and Hurt. I’m not a fan of his, or country and western music generally, but this is incredible:
So here’s a parenting dilemma: how should you react when your oldest child plays an outrageously mean – but quite hilarious – prank on their younger sibling?
It all started on a normal school day morning. While Husband was downstairs and I was in the shower, 12YO and 6YO started the day with one of their regular pre-breakfast pitched battles. The routine goes something like this: Continue reading