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
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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
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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