Nearly New Year

Yes its been ages since my last blog. No excuses. Just been particularly busy or at least big pink blob has been busy which in turn means that I cant get onto the computer.

However, the Blob and I are snuggled up in the house and its about an hour til next year.

I realised about an hour ago that the world doesn't actually revolve around me.

It does normally, but tonight no. Tonight there are fire works and I dont like fireworks and I suddenly realised that there can't be many other cats in the world lying on silk cushions, on a leather sofa with two paws wrapped around Blobs calf because this is the only way that the fireworks wont get me.

Tomorrow I shall have scrambled eggs for breakfast and once again it will be all about me, but tonight and for only tonight I am grateful for blob and all the utter crap she puts up with from me, and that includes vomiting over her clean laundry pile in protest of the hoover about four hours ago.

Blob says that she too has come to a realisation. She said that the world does in fact revolve around her and her thoughts because thought created the universe. Not particuarly her thoughts but lots of thoughts from lots of people who have all created the universe and have become an inextricable part of that universe just by the simple act of thinking.

This being the case, means that she doesnt have to put up with things that upset her just because it is expected, because by putting up with things, means that they too become part of the universe and this would mean that there are things that upset her in the universe which has actually been created by thought including Blobs thought. Why would Blob think something that upsets her - that's not what thoughts are about.

So she will only be allowing nice things into her life from now on. She knows that at just past mid night the phone will ring and it will be her mother. She won't be answering it - the assumption of her mother that she is at home is not a nice assumption. Her mother assumes she has no friends and will relish the thought of her being alone because her mother likes things to be bad.

Blob isn't alone tonight - she has me. And she could have accepted a number of invitations but decided that going out and getting rip roaringly drunk would not do her any good at all and who would look after me when the fireworks get bad. And also, she does not like getting up in the middle of the afternoon with a headache.

Blob wishes all her friends and loved ones a fantastic evening and a great, healthy and prosperous new year.

And she assures me will endeavour at least one blog a week in the coming year. They may be short because she cannot allow me lots of time on the computer, but she will allow me some.

Happy New Year


Bob.

More Church Shenanigans

Only a week since her last foray into Church, and Blob went again! This time to a Catholic Church - St Joseph's in Epsom.

Was this any better than her last visit?

No!

In a Catholic church there are load of candles and stuff. And there were more songs with dreary tunes.

On the positive, at least the Lords Prayer had the proper words at this service.

Again there was a load of hand shakes and weird stuff going on and this time, the woman in front of her just held her hand there and wouldnt take it away until Blob shook it.

She was more than unimpressed when she got home.

On the upside though, apparently this is the last church parade this year, so unless Blob decides to go to a carol concert, there is no more church for Blob.

She will probably just stick to her meditation. Much more her cup of tea.

Om!

Bob

George and Henry

Blob received an email from George and Henry this week. George and Henry are two black cats who live in Shoreham and their Blob is my Blobs Godmother.

Apparently, George who was a supermodel is now no longer thin enough. It was all something to do with a giant furball which has now been hacked up somewhere.

They are also becoming a bit disturbed because they understand that Godmother Blob is being whisked away for a weeks holiday by another Blob who just happens to be my Blob's aunt.

Well in answer to your email boys, there is nothing you can do to stop Blobs going away. They do however try and ensure that you are continually fed and watered. What you can do however is to use the event against them for many months to come which can lead to a mass of titbits and extra love.

Actually, this will work for most Blobs, but not mine. My Blob is heartless and seems somehow immune to the guilt trips.

Good luck boys,

Bob

Church on Sunday!

Blob is not a Church goer. She is not particularly keen on organised faiths or the attempt at psychological control of congregations by the church.

However she is a Scout Leader and had to help this morning with the Rememberance Parade at St Martins in Epsom.

She hasn't been to church for some years, not since a friends wedding, and in that particular instance it was bearable because the music included Muppet Show tunes.

This time it was all very different:

• No Muppet Show tunes, but there were dreary hymns to dreary tunes. (tune is probably an exaggeration).



• There was a sermon that referred to the X factor. (No idea why except the vicar was trying to keep 'down with the kids')



• The Lords Prayer has changed since Blob last said it.



• At one point people tried to shake her hand - thank fully the people concerned were people who knew her, so they backed off respectfully after correctly interpreting her expression.

Was there anything about the whole experience that she enjoyed?

• Apparently, singing the National Anthem was her favourite bit because she knows the tune and could sing along.

Will she be going again?

• Not if she has any say in it, however, if not enough Scout Leaders volunteer for the next parade, she may have no choice.



• A Christmas Carol service would probably be OK, because she knows the tunes and can sing all the Carols.

All in all, not a particulary enjoyable experience.

Bob

Home Brew

The other day, there was a lot of non Bob related activity here, which is not a good thing. As a cat, and the only one that lives here, I expect the majority of the available attention.

The other day, I got absolutely none except for the few seconds it takes Blob to throw food my way.

She went to work, she came home, and then she spent a good couple of hours pouring some browny liquid from a big bucket, into assorted bottles. Then she put corks or lids on the bottles and on some of them, wound wire around the corks.

Apparently this activity that involves me in no way whatsoever, is called 'Bottling the Homebrew'.

Heres a picture:





















There is an awful lot of this Homebrew and according to a friend who necked a couple of bottles of it last night, it is rather good!

She thinks it will keep her going through Christmas. (Some hope!)

Bob

Possessions

Blob read a quote today from some American Philosopher called Mildred Lisette Norman.

"Anything you cannot relinquish when it has outlived its usefulness possesses you, and in this materialistic age a great many of us are possessed by our possessions."

Now this was spooky, considering that Blob doesnt believe in coincidences, and it was only a short while ago that Blob's Aunty said that she was clearing out things that she hadn't used in 6 months.

So Blob has decided to do the same thing. But rather than chaotically turning the house upside down, she is going to do it one small area at a time.

As far as she is concerned, it is going to be a discreet de-clutter - one bin bag at a time.

This I have got to see!

Bob

What flavour is Senior?

Blob wot feeds me has started buying me new flavours of food. The most common flavour that I have noticed is spelt S.E.N.I.O.R. I believe that a Senior is a kind of fish? I like fish.

I wonder what sort of fish a Senior is? I guess its something like Salmon.

Bob

Apologies

Blob wot feeds me wishes to apologise for me not having updated my Blog for a month!

She, it transpires, has been far too busy with her new job to turn the computer on for me.

Her new job is going well, but it is harder than she imagined it to be. It is also a shock to the system actually having to work for a living, which is something she didnt have to do at her previous job.

She has a very straightforward week next week, and is only doing courses that she has done before so nothing too new and scary. She has a full schedule now up to the end of November and needs to focus herself on the improvement of course delivery.

She has also been muttering about arranging a dinner party for early November and getting on with the Christmas Ode (whatever that is?)

She has also mentioned that she will be allowing me to use the computer on a slightly more regular basis going forward!

I must away now, as I am trying desperately trying to persuade her to put the heating on!

Bob
x

Sleeping Sickness?

Blob has been looking up Sleeping Sickness because she is very worried about me having it.

This is what Wikipedia says:

She has looked at the symptoms briefly of these and decided that i don't exhibit any of the symptoms except for the sleeping bit, and apparently it's not a coma because i actually wake up when its tea time for long enough to eat.

Actually, one of the symptoms of Encephalitis lethargica is psychosis, and Blob thinks that i do actually exhibit that one but it doesnt seem to be a recent symptom, its more of a personality trait that i have always had so she chose to ignore it.

She is more interested now, however, in the German Film called 'Sleeping Sickness' because she says she needs something to do seeing as I am going to sleep for 23.5 hours a day.

So I will continue to sleep, and she will start searching for random German Films on Amazon.

Bob
Zzzzzzzzz......

Emotional!

Oh for heavens sake - Blob has just watched the end of Doctor Who in tears - what's going on? - She's normally hiding behind the sofa!

Bob

Of Spiders and Superglue

Blob considers herself brave. She considers her self above being scared of little spiders. She will scoff jovially when the other Blob squeals at what are considered to be 'Little Spiders'.

However, having pruned the roses and the bushes in the front garden, Blob piled all the cuttings in to IKEA Bags and loaded them in the car and took them to the dump. She also took some cardboard, metal and assorted dump like things.

Out went the cuttings into the green waste, out went the cardboard into the cardboard waste and then as she is about to haul out the metal to put into the metal waste, she squeals like a girl and jumps about five foot from her car.

Immediately a bloke came over and asked if she was ok. She pointed at the rear safety straps and could only get out one word .... 'Spider!'

The bloke apparently just looked patronising and leant into the car to rid it of its unwelcome passenger. He too jumped backwards and said 'Gosh, that is a very huge spider!' (He actually didn't use the words Gosh or Very, but I'm sure you get the picture.

Then another two blokes came across and the three of them discussed how best to remove the beast without actually having to go near it.

Here's a picture of it.











Eventually, they managed to coax it onto a dustbin lid and then ran to the edge of the dump and dropped it over the wall.

Blob actually felt quite sorry for it, because she suspects that its size has something to do with being about to lay eggs, but it didn't stop it from being hugely leg wavingly scary.

She is now convinced that there are other creepy crawleys in her car and will be getting it valeted as soon as she can to ensure she drives in a sterile environment.

You'd think that was enough excitement for one day, but no ..... it never is with Blob.

During all the clearing of the front garden, she split her nail and couldnt find her nail clippers. This is probably because she had been trying to use them to unscrew something earlier in the day, and that means that they could be anywhere in the shed, the garden or the house!

So now faced with the dilemma of a nail that was catching everything and no clippers she had a brainwave - "Fix it with Superglue"!!

Blob would like to point out that if you are going to fix a split nail with superglue, don't do it in bed. It took her ages, quite a bit of bad language and some blood as the nail split even further, to unstick her finger from the duvet.

Laugh? I nearly fell of the bed!


Bob.

x

The Painting of the Soffits.

Blob who feeds me has been very busy today. She actually got dressed this morning which is quite an improvement to her usual weekend slobbery.

First she filled her car with stuff to do a boot fair on the Bank Holiday Monday and then busied herself outside the front door.

She brought her steps outside. She brought her paint scraper outside. She rigged up the extension cable for her sander. She opened the undercoat. She checked her brushes. She wound up her wind up radio. She checked with the neighbours that she could stand in their garden. Finally she made a nice cup of tea.

The heavens opened.

She forgot about her nice cup of tea. She brought in her wind up radio. She bought in her brushes. She put the lid back on the undercoat. She brought in her sander. Brought in her paint scraper. Finally she brought in her steps.

Half an hour later the sun came out.

She put the steps out again. She put the paint scraper out again. Unwound the cable wrapped around the sander. Didn't bother with the lid off the undercoat. Stuffed a brush into her pocket. Turned on the wind up radio. Her tea had gone cold.

Quel Surprise - It rained.

In with the radio. Brush out of the pocket. In with the sander. In with the paint scraper. In with the steps. On with the telly and that was that for the painting of the soffits.

I did think to mention when the sun came out again, but she wasn't having any of it.

Oh, hang on, now its raining - Oh well!

Bob
x

Rant!

Well there we were, snuggled on the sofa watching the X factor one minute, and the next minute my Blob gets all hot under the collar because she's tired of Chav wannabes trying to sing, and then crying because their hampster died when they were four years old and because of that they were taken into care and had a bad experience at a petting zoo - the experience of which has shaped their lives and is the reason they have bad skin, no taste, fake tan and a washing machine in their front gardens.

For heavens sake the whole programme is based around one question - 'Can you sing?' Everything else is superfluous and un-necessary.

I tried to explain to her that without the un-necessary fluff, the programme would be about 5 minutes long and that would have a detrimental effect on advertiser income but apparently that was far too sensible an answer and she wandered off muttering and is currently rummaging in the kitchen trying to find the ingredients for a fudge chocolate sauce to pour on ice cream.

Mmmmm ice cream!

Bob
x

Secrets!

Blob has been doing secret things late July and early August and i can now reveal that she was in fact looking for another job!

I am not sure what a 'job' entails being of a lazy feline persuasion myself but i understand it to be why my blob vanishes in the morning and doesnt come back til tea time. She apparently hasn't been happy in her 'job' for several months so she went off and looked for a new one.

Well as luck would have it, she has now found a new one.

She will be, starting on the 19th Sept, a Business Applications Specialist for QA, who are the leading IT training company in the UK. She will be based in London and will have to wear a suit for work and not the scruffy jeans she gets away with at the moment.

This is a major change because she has worked for Atkins for 10 long years and has become very 'comfortable' where she is.

And how is she feeling about this major change I hear you ask?

Well she is jumping around the living room in her pants one minute and chewing the skin off her fingers the next.

Honestly there's no pleasing some Blobs.

I shall continue to be a 'house cat' that is a cat that does not work but stays at home and does no cooking or housework or look after non existent children. I was born to the role to be honest!

Bob

400 things

Is what the vet man said I would have to lose by next year.

I get stuck with a needle, i get a worm pill rammed down my throat and I get told i have to lose 400 things by next year.

And Blob isn't talking to me which I suppose is understandable, seeing as I took out both shoulders, her right shoulder blade, her left elbow and the back of her head whilst she tried to get me in the box.

400 things! Thats loads and the vet man said just to lose about 20% of my food, which is already meagre rations, and his reason was because I go out and hunt and catch my own food. Is he actually suggesting that I eat the wild things I kill???? Bleaggghhh!

One can only hope that the weekend gets better!

Bob.

Guilfest - Not The Best.

Blob was a bit out of sorts when she got back from her forays of festival life. Apparently Roger Daltrey has lost his voice. Not that Blob expected him to sound exactly the same as he did thirty or forty years ago but the best bit of the concert was the parts sung by his band members. She was sad because there will never be another voice quite like that, but also because she had to make a decision at the concert.

Apparently Roger was on at the same time as Adam Ant who was on another stage, and the rocker in Blob won out. However as she left the venue, a little disappointed, she was even more upset to see the Adam Ant fans all leaving quite elated. He, apparently, was very good indeed.

She has found out that he will be playing the Tunbridge Wells Assembly Rooms on 2 December this year and will be contacting her friend Denise to see if she would like to accompany her.

She is also up to something secret that I am not allowed to say - she said that my blog is open to the public and you never know who's watching. Mysterious huh!?

As well as all the above, I have received a message from Henry who lives in Shoreham. Apparently his brother George has been receiving cream when they think that Henry isn't looking.

Well Henry, I think you have answered this one yourself - as you say - You are a bit of a fat cat! And that young Henry is why George who is a super model is getting cream.

You could lose a bit of the tonnage and then perhaps you'll be getting cream too.

Apparently that last comment has caused much hilarity and Blob is sniggering unkindly whilst she cooks supper. The words 'Pot', 'Kettle' and 'Black' were definitely used, but I choose not to understand the sentiment!

I wonder if there'll be butter on the potatoes?

Bob

That Deaf Dumb Blind Kid Sure Plays A Mean Pinball!

It is Friday.

It is late morning.

Blob is not at work, but is drinking hot coffee whilst watching last wednesdays 'Apprentice' on I-player.

She is not at work today because she is going to Guilfest this afternoon. This is a small weekend festival in Guildford. She is only going because Roger Daltry is doing a solo acoustic set this evening and Blob wistfully remembers him in skin tight white lycra and tassels with a beautiful mass of blond curls.

Blob is very strange indeed.

You Better You Better You Bet!


Bob

Beetroot!

The title does not mean that the Blob what feeds me has produced a beetroot for supper as part of her 'grow her own' kick. No, not at all.

Beetroot is the colour of her face, chest, neck and shoulders.

And why is she this colour I hear you ask?

Well my beloved blob who is also a responsible for a bunch of scouts, went camping at the weekend and whilst she made sure that all her charges were covered in sun tan lotion, she managed to pack hers away and put it in the car and then stand for a couple of hours in the midday sun helping run a zip wire activity.

She is now bright glowing red in an assortment of places, hot to the touch, thoroughly miserable and looks even more ridiculous than usual.

Why it was the Blob race that got given opposable thumbs never ceases to amaze me.

Bob

Home Grown for Supper

Tonight Blob pottered about the front garden when she came home and picked her supper. And all this before coming inside to feed me. My nose was extremely out of joint but did she care? No, of course not - she is extremely unfeeling is Blob!

So whilst i crunched miserably through a handful of dry and tasteless food, she steamed new potatoes, purple carrots, purple beans and a few peas, and boiled a sweetcorn cob (not from her garden). This was all served with a knob of butter and some grated cheese (also not home grown, unless she has acquired a goat and has it hidden somewhere?)

She is now prancing about in her pants (not something to dwell upon) extolling the virtues of self sufficiency!

Honestly - it was 6 potatoes, 2 carrots, 3 beans and a handful of peas - you'd have thought she'd put away enough for winter, but thats Blobs for you.

Bob

Not doing very well!

At blogging that is, we are both doing very well otherwise!

Blob has passed her exams which means she is now a Microsoft Office Specialist Master 2007. She is awfully pleased about that which means I get treats.

She has another 8 comic parcels to put on Ebay, but is waiting for a 'Free Insertion' weekend. No doubt it will be a free weekend next weekend but Blob is out all weekend, camping with the Scouts.

Does she have anyone in mind to come in and feed me? No! So it looks like it will be a pile of biccies and my water machine from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. Life is hard being a Bob.

She has also just finished 3 weeks worth of ironing which i have been asleep on for most of the evening (perhaps life isn't that hard!)

The rain in the last couple of weeks has given us lots of raspberries, we nearly have peas and beans, the trailing lobelia and sweet peas are draping themselves around the garden in wild bunches of pink and purple, the roses are smelling sweet and the hop is trying to take over the world.

Of course, the week after this scout weekend, she has a cub weekend - more unlovedness so we are both looking forward to the weekend after which means doing absolutely nothing except feed me and love me and feed me all weekend. Life could be good for Bobs!

Here's hoping!

Bob
x

Apologies

Very sorry and all that for my absence, but the big bad Blob that feeds me has been busy and I have no thumbs so cannot open the computer.

So here is a brief summary of what has been going on in No 10 over the last month.

I am now fully acquainted with my new drinking machine.

I haven't had proper meat for four weeks.

Blob went camping with the Scouts for the weekend and froze her proverbials off.

Blob is carefully removing non grape producing shoots from the vine so she can have grapes this year.

We have had 7 strawberries.

We have one Angel Hair Spaghetti squash seedling.

Blob has been studying for her Microsoft Office Specialist exams, but with very little preparation material available because they are new exams, she is using the version before and hoping her exam luck kicks in.

I have managed to dig up four lettuces and an onion from my litter tray in the front garden.

There is now a sprinkling of something Blob calls Cayenne Pepper all over my litter tray and it smells bad, but i managed to get used to the creosote smell, im sure ill become immuned to cayenne soon enough.

We are expecting our first courgettes soon, and the tomatoes are looking very little and green, but are definately coming.

Blobs first homebrew looks like real wine, and tastes like real wine, but shes not sure how alcoholic it is - she had some problems with the fermentation lock so it may not have alcoholled properly.

She has made £80 pounds so far for ebaying eagle comics.

I have taken to jumping up and down on Blob in the morning - this is not something i have always done but it is in retribution for the lack of meat in my diet.

Last weeks Doctor Who was brilliant according to Blob. One of her preferred authors Neil Gaiman penned the episode and so it was a Triple Whammy of Dr Who pleasure. 1. Doctor Who is brilliant, 2. Matt Smith is a great doctor (not Dr Potato Head thank you Denise), and 3. Neil Gaimans surreal intellect is always delicious.

Anyhow, I will be endeavouring to keep the Blog uptodate going forward, if only she would leave the computer open. And on to be honest. And on the correct page would be nice.

Bob

Busy Doing Nothing...!

Today Blob planned to do nothing! She intended to laze about on the sofa and watch dvd's and eat hot cross buns all day.

As a kind considerate pussy (which is what I aspire to be at all times - not!!) I felt it my duty to get her moving!

I noticed her looking suspiciously at a little pool of blood on the floor when she came into the living room but it took her til after a large fry up to actually make moves to clear it up.

It was at this point I made her move the sofa, the rug, empty three compartments of her shelves and pull her shelf unit out so I could catch the mouse that I had mauled last night and then let go.

She was somewhat hot and sweaty when she finished (It was particularly hot today!) I then added to her workout by trying to mutliate the mouse on her lap and she then had to scoop the pair of us up and throw us outside. She had to do this three times (I bet she regrets putting that cat flap in!)

She said that I would never attain enlightenment if I kept on killing mice. I said 'Pot calling the kettle black',(I saw the black pudding and sausages she scoffed for breakfast!)and anyway, it is her that is stopping my meat rations - she deserves to suffer!

Will be out on the prowl again later, wonder what I should let go in the house tonight?!

Bob

Its an outrage!

This week, Blob decided to inflict further torture on me.
She refused me my 20 minutes in the bathroom basin in the morning and forced me to drink out of some weird contraption that she refers to as a drinking fountain.
She is also being particularly cunning about it.

• She offers me treat biscuits but only if i eat them off her hand which is right next to the fountain.


• She feeds me in a little bowl which is attached to the fountain.

Basically what this means is that although i hate it and absolutely refuse to go near it, I have no choice. And whilst I am being forced to be near it, I may as well have a little sip.
I try to not go near it when she is watching because I dont want her to think that she's won, but apparently she found my hair in the filter when she cleaned it which means she knows that I have succumed!

The second torture this week consists of a tub of something smelly under the table, not too far from my new drinking fountain, that farts continually. Blob refers to it as her homebrew! It is supposed to be wine in the making, but lets face it, it smells nothing like wine. She thinks she's going to drink it in about four weeks! (I have so got to be there to watch that!).

I think that her reaction when drinking that will link karmically to all the misery she put me through with the drinking fountain.

Bob

George and Henry

Today Blob went to a family 'do'. Apparently this means she went to Steyning in Sussex, ate loads, was polite, ate more and remained polite. She also took the opportunity to pop in and visit George and Henry who live at Godmother Jacky's house.

I knew this because when she got back she reeked of other cat and if she had not been so late for my dinner, I would have had serious words. George and Henry are apparently smaller than me (lets face it, thats not particularly difficult)and a little more delicate (not hard either!) but they are both happy healthy cats who sleep a lot.

They are brothers and have been together all their lives - heres a picture of their happy togetherness. If the truth be told there is a certain amount of sibling rivalry which you cannot see from this photo, but Henry takes an inordinate amount of pleasure in sneaking up and jumping on George. George on the other hand has his mind on other things. He has in fact decided to lose a lot of weight ...

"Are you eating anything?" asks Blob

"Of course" says George, "But i dont eat a lot or Ill get fat"

"And that would be a problem, why?" asks Blob

"The agencies won't take me if I'm fat"

"Agencies??"

"Model Agencies" says George.

"Model Agencies?" says Blob

"Yes!" says George "If you carry any excess weight you cant be a super model"

"You're going to be a super model? Why on earth would you want to do that?"

"I'd be really good as a super model" says George, "Obviously!"

"Obviously?"

"Oh yes" Said George, "I take great photos, and I'm a natural for the Cat Walk!"

Jacky is not so sure about the supermodel thing - she reckons that there might be something wrong with George, other than a recent move from Cornwall and a Brother that keeps on jumping on him, so Blob said she would ask Hen Keeper Illustrator Andy who is also a vet in his spare time if there are anyother reasons for cats getting thin but still being happy and active and making bad cat puns other than being a supermodel.

So Hen Keeper Illustrator Andy who is also a vet in his spare time, over to you!

Bob

Uncle Bob Branching Out!

I'm now being asked for beauty tips! Only natural really - when you look as good as me people are bound to be curious!

Dear Tangoed in Mote Park,

There is no shame in changing colour. Blob's been every shade of blonde and red since I've known her.

Don't hide your head in shame, orange is a warm and outgoing colour and you are a warm and outgoing chicken.

I have taken many chickens to dinner, and its not the colour of their feathers that interests me, its whats inside (dark or white meat mainly)!

Yours in anticipation, Uncle Bob.

More Uncle Bob!

Dear Undusted from Maidstone,

Before trying it on, you must perfect the 'walking backwards whilst concentrating intently on something in front of you. This is known as 'redirection', a technique employed by many illusionists of note. Hen Keeper Andy will then not realise that you are actually backing towards the dust bath because he will be distracted by what you are concentrating on.

Once you reach the dust bath, then feel free to look surprised as you bathe. This means that if you are caught, you can genuinely look shocked and say 'Gosh, I wonder how I ended up here!'

Who could be offended at a genuine mistake that could have been made by anyone, especially ladies of a certain age!

Cunningly yours, Uncle Bob.

Agony Uncle

It appears that my wisdom is so well appreciated, that Henry, (that is Blobs Godmother Jacky's cat) has an abundance of questions. I have therefore decided that I must be a veritable Claire Rayner. (For anyone that doesnt know, she is an agony aunt which means she doles out helpful advice willy nilly to anyone that wants it.)

Because I am very much of the masculine persuasion, I am going to be Bob, the Agony Uncle.

I have perused an assortment of Agony Uncle columns and have decided that the best answers are the ones where the question isn't listed, something like this:

Dear Depressed from Swansea, I think you have answered your own question. How about meatballs? Yours, Uncle Bob.

Dear Woeful from Chelmsford, You are quite right, that sounds very painful. If the ointment isnt working, I would suggest going back to your GP and not rubbing it with margarine and balsamic vinegar. Yours, Uncle Bob.

You see, its easy, and so I am now officially offering my Agony Uncle services to all and sundry, but mostly to Henry.

So here goes my first ever official Agony Uncle effort.

Dear Damp and Cross from Shoreham, In my extensive experience, Blobs dont actually aim the hose at you as long as you steer clear of newly dug earth and green growing things. Find a dry, sandy corner which isnt near, on or under anything green and hold your ground. If that doesnt work, then get some wet look hair gel and roll with the punches! Yours, Uncle Bob.

I could get good at this!

Bob

Not a Litter Tray

Apparently the litter tray that my Blob built me is not a litter tray.

She was somewhat miffed that I thought so!

There was shouting and swearing and then there was patrolling the litter tray perimetre.

Then there was the dribbling of creosote on the litter tray frame to ensure I could not cross the borders.

Finally there was glaring and sulking. (That was both of us!)

So apart from the synchronised sulking and glaring (which was quite funny!) it has not been a good day.

Bob!

Paws for Thought

This week I received an email from Henry. Henry is one of a pair of cats adopted by Blobs Godmother Jackie.

Henry has been undertaking lessons in posing from yours truly and has been doing particularly well as his latest sample picture shows:

Nice one Henry, that is a superb example of, 'Its my fire and I don't care if you are shivering.'

However I want to Paws for a few minutes thought for George.

George is Henrys pal.

Apparently George has been a bit quiet recently, is off his food and Henry overheard Jackie on the phone to the vets and heard 'If its not an infection, then it must be Cancer.' Well Henry, in my considerable experience of being a cat, which is ages, there are lots of other things it might be, theres no 'must' about it. It could be 'Piles' or something as simple as 'Ate something sharp'.

One thing though Henry, probably best not to try and nick all the titbits meant for George - I know that I will eat anything thats not tied down, but I dont live with George. And if hes not feeling too bright at the moment, then you will not be helping. Just keep practicing those anti social poses.

So heres wishing George well, and hoping he feels better soon.

Bob
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Chamomile Lawn

It took 5 back breaking hours, but the Chamomile lawn is now weed free, sanded, composted, watered and walked upon.

(Well Blob will tell you its walked upon, but from where I was sitting it looked like an ungainly little dance as she trampled the sand into the earth. The kind you would expect your father to do at a wedding after half a dozen glasses of champers too many.)

It was the waving her arms about and singing that gave it away.

Bob
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Project 1 Complete

As you know, Blob took up crochet the other day. She has been perfecting circles, and has now pretty much perfected squares.

I say pretty much because she can crochet the square, but she has continually failed to count to 16 correctly. This inadequacy in Blobs counting skills has meant some strange shaped squares.

Blob however is happy with them and refers to them as 'squarish'.

In between all the garden activity this week she has been crocheting squares like they were going out of fashion. The end result is this:

And what is it? I hear you ask?

Is it not obvious?

It is a bag in which to keep her crochet stuff!


Bob

A New Litter Tray

Blob who loves me and tends to my every need has really pushed the boat out this time. She has built me my very own giant litter tray in the front garden.

Isn't it a beauty?

Bob

An Industrious Day and a Bad Smell

My Blob who feeds me (and thanks a lot Denise for the dried food suggestion - not!) is currently curled up on the sofa nursing her wounds, smelling slightly of satsumas and wondering if she should retire to her bedroom before applying the deep heat.

She was up bright and early and left the house even before the other Blob had left for work. (Not bad for a day off). She was back two hours later laden with wood, fence paint and other assorted goodies for a planned day of hard work to prepare her garden for the summer.

The plan was as follows:

• Paint the fence and the shed with the new pumpy spray thing she acquired.
• Make a raised bed for the front garden.
• Clear the back garden ready for chamomile weeding.
• Dig up some roses in the front garden and repot the bamboo which shouldn't actually have been planted at all.
• Shift some of the white gravel, slice the barrier fabric and position the raised bed.
• Creosote said bed.

It started well to be honest, she sprayed the fence, the shed, the neighbours kitchen windows and nice white walls, the shed window, half the rosemary, some of the lavender, a few daffodils, quite a few nettles, the ground elder, the wheely bins, her face, her arms, her jeans, her jumper, a fair bit of concrete shed base, the logs stacked by the shed (no she didn't bother moving them - she was having far too much fun for that), the water butt, the compost bin, a fair bit of the clematis and a little bit of the vine. She did however completely miss the Bleeding Heart, which she was happy about because its coming into flower and the bees will have something to eat when they wake up.

Sadly, this is where it started to go wrong (so much for the grand plan).

Whilst spraying she noticed that a pack of 'Miracle Gro Compost Maker' which she had bought last year, started to use, but then sealed up and left on an outside shelf had become unsealed and filled with water, so it seemed like a logical move to empty the wet contents of said bag into the compost.

She opened the compost, picked up the bag and squeezed the contents out and then jumped about four foot from the bin saying 'Oh my god, oh my god (Retch Retch)! I can only assume that that was what the smell was called so for the purposes of the rest of this blog i shall refer to it as 'OMGOMG(RR)' It will be quicker that way.

Whilst squeezing the bag, the contents splashed on her hands, her face and her clothes so she spent an entertaining few minutes dancing around in the garden and the house gasping for breath and being unable to find any clean air because the smell of OMGOMG(RR) was all over her. (Made me laugh anyway!)

Her other worry at this point was that she could smell the compost heap from the patio doors at least she thought she could (remember, she was actually covered with the stuff). So she tried to use her initiative and picked up the bucket of ash which has been collecting all winter from the fire, and dumped on top of the compost and slammed the lid shut and ran away.

Now all this had kind of put her out of sorts and her grand plan was slipping away. However she decided against having a shower straight away and reckoned she could throw a raised bed together and get it creosoted before shower time, and she was getting used to the stench of OMGOMG(RR).

The raised bed making went surprisingly well, with only a couple of gashes in her hands from the screwdriver (who invented knots in wood for heavens sake). Unfortunately, when Blob realised that her thumb was pouring blood, she put it in her mouth (guess what was still all over her hands?). From the ensuing language it is my understanding that OMGOMG(RR) tastes about as good as it smells.

The raised bed is now in place in the Front Garden, dripping creosote onto the white gravel, but Blob reckons that this makes finishing off easier because the square is marked.

It was a particularly grubby Blob that had to strip in the hallway and trudge upstairs to a hot shower, followed by a hot bath. She needed the two because creosote doesnt come off with soap and water - it needs scrubbing with a scrubbing brush. And then Blob was still convinced she stank of creosote and OMGOMG(RR) so she got out the emergency body shop satsuma body butter.

Hence she is curled up on the sofa, tending her wounds, smelling slightly of satsumas and now more interested in Professor Brian Cox (who apparently rocks if Blob is to be believed) than a deep heat treatment in the privacy of her bedroom.

As for me, I am complaining bitterly about the dried food i received for supper (thanks Denise) and getting absolutely no attention whatsoever.

I was wondering if I could produce something that smells of OMGOMG(RR) but Blob assures me that there is nothing I could produce which would come close.

OMGOMG(RR)

Bob

Crochet for Beginners

This week Blob took up Crochet.

Now before anyone thinks she has gone 'Girly' she wants to point out that Crochet is not a Girly sport, it is more of an 'Earthy' hobby, like Gardening, Brick Laying and Fire Starting.

So on Saturday, she took up her earthy looking crochet hook and wool and began to teach herself to crochet.

"The first thing you need to create is a circle", she said, "Ill worry about the other shapes later."

So her first circle looked like this:

Which as you can see resembles a little hat.

Second attempt looked like this:

This one was definatlely circular, but the edges were just too big for the centre.

The third one however was like this:

Which as you can see lay flat, and was circular - Hooray!

So pleased was she with this attempt, that she proceeded to use the rest of the wool to create what she refers to as a 'Hat'. I feel I need to tell you that because I dont think its particularly clear from the picture.

And before anybody asks - it does look as silly when she puts it on.

What was worse was the fact that she expected me to model one of her attempts and what was I supposed to do .... succumb, obviously.

Indignity doesnt even begin to cover it!

Bob

Buddhism for Blobs

Blob has for some time now tried to live a good karmic life. This means that if she does good things then life goes well and if she does bad things then things go wrong. She also believes in a universal consciousness and reincarnation.

Because of this she thought she should dig out her book on Buddhism and see if she was missing a trick.

Apparently she should be travelling up the road to enlightenment and to do this she needs to (amongst other things) follow a few ground rules.

One of these rules is to never take another life. Well obviously my Blob is not an axe murderer, but this particular rule suggests that she should give up meat.

Blobs main problem with the meat thing is me. She decided this the other night when she watched me dance the feline dance of death with a mouse that didn't see me coming. She watched me with some disgust as I nimbly threw it against the wall on one side of the sitting room and then against the one on the opposite side, as I managed to drop it in her boot and get it out again, and as I pretended to lose interest so it thought it could hobble off and get away, and then caught up with it at the door.

She realised that even though she could probably quit meat, I couldn't - it would go against my very nature, and nature is very important for Blob.

And if she was to travel the road to enlightenment, I would have to go with her, obviously, because who would feed me if I didn't.

So on this first foray into the realms of spiritual discipline, Blob has been thwarted, mainly by me, my mice and if she's honest bacon sandwiches!

Oh well, who needs enlightenment anyway!

Bob

All is not well in Blob's World!

The beloved Blob who feeds me has a sister and a neice. The neice is actually quite nice according to Blob, she must get that from her sister because niceness is not a trait one would associate with Blob and before anyone jumps up and down and gets on the blower to Blob and tells her, she is quite in agreement with me on this particular issue.

Anyhow I digress. The neice wanted to go and visit her Granny. This caused some consternation between Blob and her sister. And before anyone jumps up and down and gets on the blower ..... the reason they were a bit worried is because Granny, i.e. Blob and her sister's mother does not live in a leafy cul de sac an hour or so away where they could pop into for a nice cup of tea and a sticky bun and then get home again in time for Casualty. No. As regular readers will know, Blobs mother lives in Cornwall which is a good 5/6 hours away, and she doesnt live in a house that one could just pop into for a cup of tea and said sticky bun, no, she in fact lives in a house that is full to bursting of 'stuff' with a generous coating of dust.

The word stuff conjures up many things to many different people but I am assured that the stuff in Blobs mother's house is all those things and probably a whole lot more! And shes not joking about the dust either!

Anyway the trip was planned, and this wasnt an easy matter, because both Blob and her sister have busy schedules and work and social committments. At last a date was agreed on and a hotel was booked for the three of them (it was going to be a camp site but Blobs neice decided she was far too much of a girl to stay under canvas - please note the eye rolling and tutting that accompanies that statement!)

Once all the above was done, Blobs neice wrote to her Granny (this was her idea after all) and told her when they would be visiting.

Job Done!!

Well so they thought (and now would be a good time for some 'dum dum dum' ominous music)- Blobs sister received a call from her mother and her neices Granny - who are one and the same person just in case anyone is getting confused.

Her mother stated that unfortunately she would be away staying with a friend (this is a friend who walks all over her and gets her to babysit her dogs)and could Blob and her sister make it another week.

Well the answer was no, there was no other week that they could make it because of work mainly, but obviously Blobs mother wasn't about to change a visit to a bossy friend with dogs.

Well the logical conclusion to this is that Blobs mother would rather spend time with her friend and her dogs than make time for her daughters and her grand daughter, and lets face it, if that is the case, why on earth should Blob and her sister let down scouts, cubs, jobs and husband or anything else that they would prefer to be doing than spend time with their Mother.

Anyway, with Blobs mother/nieces granny (who are still one and the same person) out of the cornish equation, Blob and her sister and neice are looking forward to a trip down memory lane in Polzeath, Rock, Padstow, Tintagel and Cream Teas! (Cream Teas is not a place, more of a thought, and as everyone knows, thought is energy, and energy creates matter! That means that they just have to think of a cream tea and 'pouff' just like magic it will manifest itself.)

I shall be mainly thinking of beef, medium rare and a blazing fire in the hearth for the next few hours - just in case! (I wonder if it will work for cats?)

Bob

These boots were made for walking ...

Blob helped organise a jumble sale on Saturday in aid of Cubs. A jumble sale by all accounts is where lots of Blobs turn up in the morning with bags and bags of stuff they dont want any more.

Then my Blob and her friends lay it out all neat (a little bit of an exaggeration) on tables around a room then wait til 2.00 pm when there a huge queue of people wanting to get in. When they get in there is a rush for about half an hour where the big queue turns into a grasping melee.

"Im not paying £1 for that (five matching cups and saucers) its not a complete set - call it 20p!"

"If it was a complete set, it would be worth at least £5, £1 is a bargain!"

"I'll leave it and i'll come back later and get 'em for 20p - you'll see."

Well she came back later and Blob told her it had been sold for £1.50 so she missed out on a bargain.

First of all she got sworn at and secondly felt obliged to put £1.50 in the pot at the end because she had hidden the cups and saucers and lied.

Blob did however show great restraint and didn't try suggesting that people could perhaps have cleaned their teeth before leaning into her face and offering her 5p for a 100 piece jigsaw.

And she did come away with a really funky (Blob's word) pair of boots.

They are very heavy - and Blob reckons that if she keeps on wearing them she'll have great buttocks.

They also make her couple of inches taller which means she can look down on a few people. Not all the people because lets face it, she's shorter than everyone without boots, so a couple on inches doesn't actually make her taller than very many people - but its a start.

She calls them her 'Kicking Boots' and from my perspective, I need to get out of the way - I don't for one minute think she would actually try to kick me, but she is clumsy at the best of times and you can see where I'm going with this!

Ooh just located a pile of clean laundry to kip on and not a boot in sight!

Bob

From Dead Authors to Living Ones

The living author in question is Terry Pratchett. He is one of Blobs particular favourites and she reads his grown up books alongside those for younger readers with enthusiasm. However the other day she picked up a book that was slightly different. This one was about the world - the real one - the one that we are living in except a long time ago, (and with the history being a bit different).

It was called "Nation", and involved shipwrecks in the Pelargic Ocean, tidal waves and survivors and it also spoke about duty, politics, science and love. It was quite beautiful according to Blob, but if this was the case - why did her face leak so much as she finished it. And then every time she thought about it for the next few days.

Blob is very strange - a book is beautiful and she leaks. I am beautiful and she swears a lot.

I sometimes wonder if I would be better treated if I were a book.

Perhaps ... but then there wouldn't be any hot dead animal to gorge on!

And she'd leave me on the edge of the bath all day!

Bob

Burnt

Some of you may remember that i behaved rather badly a few months ago when trying to get some food off Blobs plate.

I have tried to behave a little better since, however today she roast herself a pork belly, marianated in Mead and cooked on apples, sage and onions, and served it with a cider gravy.

When that came out of the oven i was literally quivering with anticipation and even beginning to drool a little (and I don't do drooling).

She carved herself a plateful and I could hear the crackling crack and the knife slicing the meat as if it was butter.

So desperate was i to get some (obviously because she is a great cook and I am her greatest fan - did my nose grow visibly just then?), that i was becoming a little impatient with my claws on her leg.

Now she made all the usual noises, and swore all the usual swears, but the smell was driving me wild.

If by any chance I had listened to her I would have heard words; "Wait!" and "Hot!" but I was far too busy being irritating.

So eventually she completely lost her rag and passed me a chunk of meat and said "Burn yourself on that then, and dont coming running to me when your nose catches fire?"

All I can say is that it was hot.

It was very hot.

I took a huge mouthful, shrieked, hissed and ran away.

I came back five minutes later, and surprisingly enough wasnt particularly interested in the pork any more.

But I did manage to sit in front of the fire making irritating mouth noises for the next two hours as partial revenge and I am still considering calling the RSPCA only my mouth is too sore to formulate words.

Miserably yours

Burnt Bob

George has it sooooooo wrong.

George, who is one of the pair of cats who lives with Blobs Godmother Jacky who I am sure has been previously mentioned sent me an email the other day.

Apparently my limping technique is regarded with some derision in their household.

Apparently George thinks he has bettered my limping technique by having a sore on his side.

Apparently if he licks the sore he gets lots of attention and doesnt forget he has a sore.

Well i have just one thing to say to you George:

"Sucker!"

I pretend to have a limp and then forget to limp. Depending on the timing of the said forgetting, leaves me with nice treats and no limp.

You, George, may well get your treats when you lick your sore, but at the end of the day, you still have a sore you great lummux.

And you get to wear the cone of indignity when you are caught.

So dont go calling me the amateur.

Much affrontedly

Bob