Grey cat at Tickencote

oh grey cat of Tickencote

are you the guardian of the church

or a volunteer guide?

You watch us as we park the car

and as we lift the latch 

below the lych gate roof

We walk among the gravestones

looking at the carved window arches

and the inscriptions to the dead

the moss-covered ancient mound,

the solid stone statement tombs

and there you are, rubbing against my leg.

A bench for contemplation

faces the old hall's lake

and you leap up, then lightly to a table tomb

the sunlight catching the way your fur

outlines your frame.

When we open the heavy oak door

to admire the chancel arch

and grotesques in ceiling corners

you follow and show us the old cast bell

replaced some eighty years ago.

You stroll along the tiny nave

into the chancel - we'll not miss much.

As we leave we make sure you are outside

our farewell photograph sees you seated on the wall

blinking in the cooling sun.

From a calendar pic

I discovered only today that this is the narrowest street in Paris, according to the fount of all knowledge, wikipedia.

I kept the pic from a calendar of photos of Paris, and today used it as a prompt, prompting others to find out more than I had ever bothered to!

A medieval legend:
Once upon a time, there was a canon called Dom Perlet who was conducting alchemical experiments in this very place, in the company of a black tomcat, which was very good at extracting fish from the nearby river Seine with its paws.  Three students, who were sure that the priest and the cat were one being, and that it was the devil, ambushed the poor cat, killed it and threw it in the river. The alchemist was away travelling, and only returned some time later.  When he got back, the cat was once more fishing peacefully at the edge of the river.
  The students were convicted, arrested and hanged on the gallows at Montfaucon. No one could explain how the cat came back to life : but there was a smell of sulphur in the air. . .The Rue Neuve-des-Lavandières became known from that time on as the Rue du chat qui pêche.

Source

Celebrity Cat

Starstruck Shelby
achieves lifetime ambition
she's on the telly.

Happy new August

...and the garlic water is not a lot of good on its own. Snails eat beans as fast as they grow. No sloth in their breeding or eating habits. Beanstalk Jack, what was your secret?
Come on out Mr Pigog, and bring back the thrushes too.
Or perhaps we could dress Shelby cat in a smock and hat, give her a crook, and employ her as a snailherd, to lead them away.

Instead of resolutions, this was 2007

I've made a list of some of the good things that I did last year.

We went swimming most weeks

In Jan we saw the New Year in at Share and Mick's party

In Feb, we saw Thomas Guthrie sing 'Die Winterreise'

In March, we went to Esther and Adrian's wedding

I spent a day in the New Forest with Dan, Sara and Isaac

In April, we spent my birthday in Vienna, and got a reduced price entry to a gallery

In June, I walked in Bristol city centre,along the waterfront, and climbed the Cabot tower

In July-Aug, we drew some castles in Wales and walked up Skirrid

In Oct, we leaf-peeped in New England

We went on a boat and saw hump-back whales off Boston

I went to Maine with Harry, Leonie and Brian

We stayed at Loon Lake in NH and went to Polly's Pancake Parlor

We climbed the Camel's Hump in Vermont

I spent Halloween in Brooklyn with Leonie, Brian, Eilidh and Aneurin

In Nov, we saw Paula Radcliffe run by in the NY marathon

We saw and heard Colin Carr play Bach cello suites in Uppingham

In Dec, we went ice-skating outdoors in Nottingham

Time to post a pic of the other cat. I don't think he was making resolutions either, unless it was to avoid looking at the flash.

Last minute?

I'm really pleased we went to the supermarket early. We were out on Christmas Eve only because we wanted to pick up salmon as late as practicable. When we arrived there just before 9 am there was plenty of room to park. When we left people were driving round waiting to pounce on a spot. One poor woman reversed out of her space into the side of a passing van. Tempers started to rise. I was a coward and kept well out of it.

It's at the stage now, if we ain't got it, we ain't gonna.

Oh, yes... we've delegated worrying to our more placid cat for Christmas and whenever - she doesn't have many other responsibilities.







I have a rose this Christmas. Not a hothouse rose, gift-wrapped and showy. Not a Christmas rose, fine as it is, discreet hellebore, grandiose on the quiet. My rose is small and deep pink. I took a cutting from the allotment, before the builders developed it. The plant lives, and its flowers cheer the winter grey, blooming through the frosts.