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Category Archives: The parrot has landed.
Dogged by cats.
The S&H* has been working his socks off recently installing new servers for a company. He’s done this over a weekend, with the general idea that everything should be up and running for Monday morning and by and large it … Continue reading
The horrible absence of regular postings.
So! (You might be going) So! Finally a posting, where has she been, what is she doing? Do you know it has been a week (count it – week – one) since the last scrap of writing, call yourself a … Continue reading
Posted in The parrot has landed.
Tagged school excuse notes, sunshine, writing blogs
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Recent joys.
This may not be a long posting and has every chance of being started on one machine and finished on another because the other half has destroyed the gizmo docking ports on this one. I was much happier when computers … Continue reading
Survival tacatics.
It’s getting to be a habit. Through the glass door I glimpse the little cat dashing upstairs, squeaking, her jaws clamped firmly round something unsuitable. I scream for the S&H* who is either getting up eventually, not getting up yet … Continue reading
Furballs.
Two cats, instant madness, no waiting. The little one did something awful, I forget what, and attempted to make up for it by bringing me half a hot cross bun. I’m still holding out for the wrapped chocolate bar. Or … Continue reading
Cats the mew sickle.
Well it was like this. So far the man of the house (the older, irritable one who only liked our own nineteen and a half year old cat because we’d had her a long time and got used to her) … Continue reading
Cake for cats.
A writer’s house, to be conducive to writing, would, you hope, be calm and ordered. So it was, until my grown up son and heir to all my debts came back to stay for a while, bringing with him two … Continue reading
The seven signs of ageing.
Have I been watching those awful adverts again or have I just had a senior moment? Bit of both? Either? Neither? Is asking endless questions one of the signs? Or isn’t it? Surely I should know by my age? Or … Continue reading
More crud from my loft.
Sounds like a euphemism doesn’t it? Something dark and mysterious hinting at lengthy sessions lying on a chaise longue with a chap with one of those irritating little goatee beards and a clip board taking notes in a mittel European … Continue reading
Junkorama and thought for the week.
When we arrived at this house, 25 years ago, the dark and spiderous loft was billed as ‘boarded’. This may have been a big fat lie, depending, as so many things do, on your point of view. If you were … Continue reading