Mondrian

Laying in bed (if you remember I am quite partial to a spot of clinomania) I was pondering, musing, lightly conjuring ideas for the next cat blanket. I had made a few with two tone squares and was in the process of finishing the sixteen different colour squares blanket, as ever when you’re not really thinking about something an idea usually pops and a pattern began to form.

Hmm, wasn’t there an artist who black lined rectangles and squares, coloured with white, red, yellow and royal blue? Hmm, must google when I arise to settle my curiosity. Google did infact confirm that I was thinking Mondrian.

Rummaging through the stash I had what I needed, except for the white and blue, the other modern deity Amazon handled that and this I became a creative little hooker.

Of course, my brain didn’t stop there! As I was attaching the various shapes another nugget of wonder began, how to tweak the cat toy patterns and style them in the colours too.

The result is pictured above.

I have reached a conclusion after this artistic endeavour

• I hate using black
• I hate tucking ends
• I hate sewing bits together
• The next blanket will be an ordinary, single colour, back and forth one ….ish …..kinda …..maybe with a sliiight adjustment.

 

The cat who didn’t get the cream

Somebody’s Sunday morning has not gone according to plan.

When my carer arrived this morning she opened the kitchen door and peering through the back window were two expectant faces, #NotMyCat Mickey and his brother #NotMyCat2 Ginger.

To avoid them getting underfoot or indeed worse getting into my sandwich she didn’t open the window straightaway. Once I was safely in the lounge with my coffee and sandwich she then returned to the kitchen to find no faces at the window but as she opened it Ginger sprang to the bin and announced his arrival in his sweet way. Presumably the other one would not be too far behind.

Two pouches were put on the individual trays and left in the usual spot ready for the hungry horde. Ginger eagerly tucked into his, clearing up every single morsel of gravy, he then took advantage!

You see dear reader, So often Mickey will hang around, patiently waiting for the window to be opened, and then sit beside the cupboard where the pouches are kept, and be first in line for breakfast. The more cautious Ginger will wait before tentatively sneaking in by which time the tray is bare.

But not this morning. As my carer was preparing to leave she sneaked a peek in the kitchen and Ginger was gleefully helping himself to the second tray and there was no sight of Mickey.

About 15 minutes later a black and white disgruntled moggy wanders into my lounge and gives me a glare as if it is my fault that breakfast has been devoured by another. I tried to placates him with the remains of the dreamies packet, I proffered a nibble of my sandwich contents, I even offered my coffee mug for him to sniff. But no, so now he’s sulking, he is on the arm of the sofa, with his back legs against my hip, and the occasional claw from a front paw on my bum. I will likely have to suffer this punishment until about 2 pm.

EDIT :: when my carer returned at 2pm, Mickey was staging a sit-on protest (he’d moved to the cushion on my lap), he followed her through to the kitchen to be served a pouch …. sadly today really isn’t his day, as she squeezed it into the tray Ginger wandered through from my bedroom and ‘nibbled’ some too.

 

Sunny holibobs

Back to normalcy with a winding thrump, after a smidge over two weeks with my BFF, where we enjoy snacks, cats, stitching and bitching (as in kvetch at the idiocy of some and how their get their knotted thong wedged up their butts being mean to others), foods we normally do not have like sausage, egg and chips! We wandered out and about, even got to the seafront esplanade and had an ice cream, with a flake too!!

We both went out for pedicures and I got my hair harvested (not saying it needed it but the vacuum had to be emptied midway as the bucket was full). Jobs and errands got taken care of. And I was spoilt rotten with attention. I love my BFF time, such fun, we even kareoke-d into the wee hours remembering lyrics to songs we hadn’t heard in decades. There were a couple of times we both laughed so hard, and kept setting each other off again, until we almost ‘oops-ed’ ourselves.

Of course Mickey (#NotMyCat) and Ginge (#NotMyCat2) were in hog heaven, practically getting food on demand, well Moocher does have a penetrating stare. Ginge is still a little timid but did settle on the sofa between us on the day of rain. With windows and doors left ajar from early morning until bed time they had free range to come and go at their whim, which they did. BFF bought a brush and Mickey really seemed to enjoy stretching out on the floor and being brushed, the implement soon choked with his white fur. As for the scratch mat, it’s a work in progress.

Avoiding the football we indulged in some serious binge viewing as well as a few films and documentaries

Live & Let Die
Moonraker
The Spy Who Loved Me 
Pilgrimage (bbc iPlayer)
Octopus Teacher (Netflix)
Life series
Blue Planet series
Penguin Town (Netflix)
The Wizard of Oz
Moulin Rouge
Singing In The Rain
Believe Me : Abduction of Lisa McVey
Steel Magnolias 
Titanic
Kedi (Cats of Istanbul)
One Chance (Paul Pott story)
The Man Who Knew Too Much
Thelma & Louise
Mona Lisa Smile
Rat Race
Frankie & Grace (Netflix series)
The Pharmacist (Netflix documentary)
FireFly Lane (Netflix series)

All too soon as always she’s packing the suitcase, putting the duvet back on the bed and we’re waiting for the taxi to whisk her away……we restart the clock for when she can return to play again.

 

Being Cuckoo-d by a Cat

There was a hilarious tweet recently that started me on a trip along that leafy memory lane. Someone posted “Our neighbour just put their house up for sale, couldn’t resist a snoop on Zoopla ………. that’s our bloody cat!” There quite unashamedly stretched across the purple bedspread was a very contented fluffy ginger cat. The comments had for more amusement as people across the globe were sharing ‘tails’ of having visitors. So if you’re in need of calm amusement, pop over to Twitter and search #NotMyCat.

Here’s my story.

Back in 2017 I kept my green recycling wheelie bin at the back door so I could easily lift the lid and deposit my green credentials. When Big Sis and I were cleaning house ready for BFF’s visit, Big Sis grabbed the recycling with all intent but as she entered the kitchen said “Can’t put the recycling out, there’s a cat on the bin”.

Now ‘cat’ was no stranger, he was often seen prowling around the gardens, giving cars meticulous inspections and had played with a leaf atop my sisters estate car. He had decided this was his manor and he was security. Postie became a friend to go to for a quick head scratch, bin men were glared at from a distance, window cleaner and gardeners were avoided, a suitable snooze spot in the sun found. He often featured in estate agent exterior photos.

If my front door was wide open he would cautiously approach but not venture over the threshold. His neck would stretch further and further with curiosity but his back paws remained firmly on the door step. Until one day during BFF’s visit the ultimate, irresistible inducement to be courageous was offered – sandwich ham. My fate was sealed.

After BFF had left for home, Big Sis and I were sitting in my lounge when a faint sound could be heard, just slightly, we looked at each other and chuckled. She got up and opened the front door and in sauntered Mickey, on patrol but fussing.

On BFF’s next visit (can you sense a theme here) the bedroom window was opened for air and in the wee hours a voice remarked “Oh it’s you” as a lump walked up BFF and snuggled down for a snooze. A visit to the High Street pet shop resulted in a couple of cat toys and some nip. Somehow while grocery shopping some Dreamies or Felix treat bags sort of accidentally fell in, followed by a box of pouches (well he is a large lad). He confidently strides through an open door or window, has head scritches, chin tickles, back strokes, decides whether he is going to sleep on the wooden chair, desk chair, armchair, sofa or me. Gives me the “Do you mind!” expression if I move a muscle, lightly perpetrates my thigh with his generous acupuncture treatments.

With CoVid delaying BFF’s first visit last year she was concerned that Mooch might have forgotten her (ha! As if). She arrived mid afternoon, front window was opened slightly for air and suddenly this white blob attempted to jump in the narrow gap because he had heard her voice. You could see the joy in his face at having her back again. I’ve told him, June, just 66 days, she’ll be back.

Fur forward four years and “Mickey” (because his black ears reminded me of Mickey Mouse, should have called him Oliver) still sits on the bin, sunning himself, supervising any kitchen goings on, also gently rests front paw on the door handle as a subtle hint.

A carer had a sporty car with a straight exhaust and he’d inspect the car every time, warm his paws on the bonnet, or glare at her when she came in and disturbed his snooze. He is currently working his charm on my other carers. Just last week while I was parked on the porcelain throne Carer was in the kitchen preparing my dinner when she declared “I can’t stand it”. She strode to my lounge and returned to the kitchen and I heard “Here, stop starring at me”, treats were popped on the bin to appease her guilt.

This very morning as I was wriggling into position on my bed, Carer opened the kitchen door and declared “Ohhhh, hello beautiful, do you want in?”….. I think I need to check my care plan, I don’t think it says ‘Look after cat first’.

But, well, he is handsome and charming and……..

 

Shouting At Burglars

During the course of conversation I recalled an anecdote which had my carer laughing. Hopefully it will bring a chuckle to your chops too.

When I was about thirteen or fourteen there was an incident. When I lived with my parents we were in a very rural village, lots of woodland and open marshland. In the early hours of a morning my Dad was woken by a sound, thud-thud-thud, reasonably rhythmic in nature. He asked my mum who sleepily thought it was the pile drivers across the marshes, but not that early in the day, unsettled he got up to investigate. I had a pet rabbit Rv who as soon as he heard people movement would thump his back legs against the back of his hutch wanting out into the enclosed courtyard. Rv’s hutch was against the wall of the garage, beside the window of the workshop area and opposite the kitchen window and door, Dad thought it was Rv getting his Thumper action on. So he unlocked the kitchen door and shouted across the courtyard to Rv “Shut up, you noisy bugger!” As he crossed the hallway he noticed that the garage side door was ajar, which was extremely unusual, it was then a penny dropped. Dad went back upstairs to get dressed and when he went to the garage there every yard or so was a hessian sack each with the contents of our big chest freezer, the rhythmic thud being the closing of the heavy freezer lid (it didn’t stay up). As shocking and upsetting as the event was at the time, we couldn’t help but wonder what said burglar thought was going on when he heard a deep voice declaring “Shut up, you noisy bugger!”.

Fast forward about seven years, I was home alone, Mum and Dad were away visiting old friends. At the same time the flat roof of the garage was being replaced. By the end of day one the roof had been stripped back to its rafters and the new boards just laid on top. As I was about to get ready for bed I opened the front door to call the cat in “Kevin! Kee-viiin, move your backside“, as I stopped to see if the ginger and white blob was approaching I heard distinct foot steps on wood echo through the garage. Yikes!! I locked myself in and immediately rang the police. The culprit was caught trying to break in elsewhere. Yet again I can only imagine the shock the fellow must have felt as all of a sudden someone is bellowing a name, telling him to move his backside.

Hee hee…

 

It’s Beginning…..

I can feel it ….. just beneath the surface ….. bubbling and preparing ….. it starts with a chill in the air, followed by a puffy sinus sensation, progresses with socks on feet and long-sleeved tops, outside the skies are clouded and grey and darkness creeps earlier and earlier forcing the curtains to be closed at tea time. The leaves on the trees start to turn golden and threaten to fall and that cloaking sensation of despondency begins to shroud.

The decent into winter blues feels like it is arriving early, and it likely is considering how this year has behaved, along with my continued confinement and circumstances, but really my normal is lockdown, not having the ability to go anywhere (including the loo) without prearrangement with others.

I feel a detachment and displacement, I’m not connected to anything outside my four walls, it’s a side affect of disability. My anecdotes are getting older, less relevant and more historical.

My prime occupation these past couple of weeks has been a cat bed. With my kitchen window open #NotMyCat has been in daily to claim lap rights. He’s even started ignoring my carers, he gives them an evil glare when they walk in, reluctantly moves along the sofa so I can transfer to the wheeled chair. As soon as I’m back on the sofa the lap is reclaimed.

When we had a rainy day, I had #NotMyCat2 claim snoozing rights, whilst depositing puddles of rain on my t-shirt.

Time to get back to the crochet, get the blankets edged and toys made, I’d like to get the box filled by the end of BFF’s November visit.

Sorry I haven’t been more prolific, I’m running out of ways to say what I did today.

 

Sleeping With The Fishies

During BFF’s recent visit we tried something a little more taxing then repetitive back ‘n’ forth blanket crocheting. Google and Ravelry.com had been raided in the search for a straight forward cat toy pattern. Now you see life has taught me that words like ‘easy’ and ‘quick’ when describing patterns and methods are generally rather overstretched elements of truth, I was weary.

This time, however, after careful rereading the patterns seemed relatively uncomplicated and a great use for left over yarn (of which I have a suitcase full). So we tackled them and voila!

Of course, not every new venture goes snag free. We began crocheting a mouse and when we reached the ‘stuff’ instructions, I despatched BFF to the wardrobe for the bag of fibre fill that I remembered was hiding then. No matter how diligently she looked, no bag was found. Well, maybe my memory had mis remembered, no worries the almighty Amazon to the rescue and the next day a new bag arrived. Then when BFF went into cupboard to get out the vacuum cleaner, yes you guessed it, there sitting all proud of itself a bag of fibre fill – typical, you always find things after buying a replacement.

NotMyCat has been very obliging, he has tested one or two cat blankets in the past and has given the mouses and fishies the ‘bat and claw’ test. They passed!

Kudos and credit where it’s due, the patterns are available from

No Sew Cat Toy – Fish by Cafe del Craft

Cat Toy – Mouse by Daisy and Storm

 

We’re gonna need a bigger box

I’m not responsible for all of these blankets, seven were stitched by my BFF when she was here in September, I have done the other fourteen. 🙀 I know! I’ve never managed to get so much done, ever! In the ten weeks since BFF was here, I thought I might get four done, possibly five by the end of the year, but never would have considered fourteen.

Now, a brief explanation. Historically I could only manage a row or three a day before it would have a consequence when it came to me being able to stand up and move, it’s the physics of holding myself in the stitching position, no longer being able to stand the restriction has become redundant. When I start a new blanket after a break from regular stitching, I can only do two rows before the aches begin across my shoulders, down my upper arms and up my neck, but each day I tried adding a row, pushing myself a bit further until I was able to stitch and rest in intervals across the whole afternoon and evenings. Before long I was digging in the wool stash again for three more balls of double knit, and I needed a carrier bag for the completed ones.

When BFF visited she sent down two boxes (think large gents trainers shoe box size) rammed with her yarn, since when they’ve been hidden behind the sofa. When Nephew was here Friday I got him to grab one and empty it into the stash suitcase, thinking I could put the blankets in the box but it’s not big enough.

My current blanket will take longer, the yarn is a lighter weight so there are far more stitches to the eighteen inch row, and there are about three rows to the inch and there are twelve inches to do. I might break my rule of only working on one at a time and start a second with thicker dk so it grows quicker.

Still, some lovely pussy cats and kittens are getting an early visit from this Santa’s helper, hopefully they’ll get new homes quickly too.

 

Fun No More (until April)

I’ve been wonderfully distracted for the past two glorious weeks, BFF has been to play, stay, I meant stay. … and this time it was greatly needed by us both. Finally after all the stress, anxiety and sorrow attached to so many happenings I could cry my heart out and get physical console. But all too soon, the suitcase is being zipped up and it’s that dreadful time to try and hold the stiff upper lip and say ttfn.

Pre arrival plans had been put in place, a few DVD’s were ordered, two mahoosive boxes had arrived with the neatest of handwriting upon them (more wool to add to the packed suitcase stash) and the dozen bottles of cherry cola added to the grocery order.

We may both be in our golden years, but you’re never too old for a PJ party, and that’s what we do. It’s not all indulgent fun, there were chores and errands done too, the dentist visit with deep deeeep clean and the annual hospital appointment with my neurologist (test results, blood pressure, heart rate all ‘normal’, never thought that word would be attached to me). I supervised while BFF cleared out, sorted, organised my kitchen cupboards (nothing last century lurking in the dark corners), general tidy up of the bathroom and lounge, the resort and reorganising my bedroom draws and I feel sorted, organised, prepared for carers and helpers, etc.

We’ve mooched up and down my High Street, been back and forth to Morrison’s for eats and treats, sat outside enjoying the sun and breeze, took an afternoon stroll along the esplanade and I, yes me, suggested a ice-cream (it was lush), we even went to the cinema to see Downton Abbey (rather good).

Mostly we snoozed, nattered, laughed, chatted, rested, and watched stuff

• Last Viceroy House
• Mad Men Season 6 and 7
• The Green Book
• Trumbo
• Edie
• A Cat Named Leonard
• Norma Rae
• Pursuit Of Happyness
• My Old Lady
• The Favourite
• Colette
• Don’t Eat The Daisies
• The Right Stuff
• Spotlight
• The Girl On The Train
• Billy Rose’s Jumbo
• Glass Bottom Boat
• Man With A Horn
• To Kill A Mockingbird

Of course the REAL prime reason for being together is a certain four legged furred charmer, known as Mickey, aka #NotMyCat, wandering in when he pleases, playing with his new toys, choosing one of the many seats to snooze upon, getting head rubs and chin scritches galore.

Three quarters of an hour ago we hugged, smiled, said “call you tomorrow”, and off she goes ……… just 199 days to go until we’re back together *fingers-crossed*

Thank you BFF for being everything I need and a heck of a lot more, words are not enough to convey all you do for me, help me, cajole me, entertain and help me.

 

C-Antics

This is #NotMyCat aka Mickey …. A somewhat charismatic, charming, Turkish van cat who uses my wheelie bin (which is at the back door) as a throne, upon which he snoozes in the sun, surveys his grounds, supervises my kitchen goings on and generally ‘cat’ things.   When BFF is here she lets him in, feeds him, and we fuss and play with him, and he often snoozes on my posh black desk chair (white hair repository).  BFF has a mild allergy to fur, she had changed the duvet as she was itching and sneezing, she took a call from daughter2 and had company on the fresh, unfurred duvet – best laid plans.  You could say this is ‘his’ house.

As I’m a late sleeper, BFF gets up and goes off on a three mile speed walk, returns and breakfasts with Mighty Mickey before I surface to consciousness.  I could hear her talking to him, heard the front door open and close (M’s preferred exit method) and then heard the tell tale sound of his dish tapping against the kitchen skirting board. Had the little beep trotted around the building, leaped onto his bin and re-entered through the kitchen window? “Meooow……. Meeooww…….. Meeeooowww…..” That’s not a Mickster squeak!  I called to BFF and low and behold Mickey’s nervous cautious but curious best bud aka Ginger had taken a bravery pill and wandered in (via bin and window) but couldn’t or wouldn’t jump on the worktop and exit the same way.  BFF shepherded Ginger through the lounge and he sprang with much relief out the front door.

With the nights being warm, we often had the window open slightly, so it was no surprise that at some point Mickey would sneak in and settle on the bed (after the kneading ritual).  He was against my feet as I turned and after a brief while I felt him stand and jump off, I cracked my eye open and gazed towards the window where a blurry lump was wiggling (I’ve very poor eye sight and glasses were on the table). I thought M was taking a wander and thought nothing more until a guttural growl began from somewhere in the corner of the room.  Odd, was M observing something from the window (we have hedgehogs and possible a fox in these parts).  Again the growl began with greater earnest, persistence and aggression, BFF hopped out of bed to the window, where the fuzzy lump high tailed it, replaced by M up at the window scanning and searching, not happy.  We had had a new furry intruder!  A stripped tortoiseshell moggy, possibly the known wanderer from a neighbouring street called Bert (or is it Ernie, they’re so alike).

Okay, so granted I have reached my golden decade and am single, but I didn’t order the old lady kitty cat starter kit and Signor Mickey d’Mooch feels he has exclusive rights to this cat club establishment.

That reminds me, I must retrieve the conker from under my desk.  Big Sis has placed a few in my porch to deter the arachnid intruders, Mickey got it in his cat nip induced noggin to play football with one.