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