>Okay, hands up everyone that noticed that the posts got a bit more writerly towards the end of last week. Sorry about that. I went into overload and couldn’t think of anything positive to say about anything, and I thought those might be better than nothing. I do hope you enjoyed the stories, though.
There is still no sign of my cat, and it will be 4 weeks today since I last saw her. But people are asking me, either to my face, or by text or by email, if there is any news and it’s still upsetting me – wuss that I am. The chin gets a wobble on and I feel a right ponce for welling up again. Any news WILL be on here, on Facebook, on the guestbook, or I’ll send you a text if that’s what I promised to do. If you could refrain from asking, though, it would be appreciated and possibly safer for you. Unless you’re also prepared to hug …
On a brighter note, a band mate made it possible for me and the keep fat buddy to go along to see Suzi Quatro at the Holmfirth Picturedome on Saturday, and it was one of the best nights out I’ve had in a long time, probably the best gig I’ve been to since moving up to Yorkshire.
Suzi Quatro turned 59 in June – fifty nine – yet still she looks good. Her voice is just as powerful and she’s a little firecracker, even if her bass guitar is bigger than she is. Halfway through the set she changed into a skin-tight leather catsuit (“I changed into something less comfortable”), which I thought was very brave as they’re not the most forgiving of outfits. But she looked beautiful, fit and gorgeous … and I do like a bass player to use the fingers … always worries me when it’s a bird that, though … My favourite part was when she did a drum duet. Fantastic.
By the end of the night I had sore hands, sore feet and a sore throat from clapping, dancing and singing, and we were shattered. So we didn’t stick around for the Travelling Bilberets up in the balcony bar.
Because we’d saved on the entrance fee, I was able to buy a signed CD. A great memento of a great night. If you missed it, too bad.
The cat-that-doesn’t-live-here, aka (Fats) Domino, seems to be a bit of a killing machine and I have no idea how she does it. She’s big and fat and lazy and slow and greedy, yet still she manages to catch birds and mice. I’ve just about got used to clearing dead bodies from the yard, but now there’s something else … the fainthearted should look away now. I thought one of them had found a supply of dog biscuits and was regurgitating them back up. However, this morning I realised it wasn’t dog biscuits at all, but dead animal leftovers … or innards. Eurgh! The bodies I can do – just about – but how do I clear this, this … yuck up?
What I need is a hero, someone that can do that kind of thing for me. I have a spare room, running water – hot and cold – and an upstairs bathroom. In the meantime, the room is available for anyone that needs a place to crash … but the ability to also be a temporary part time hero will be an added advantage.
Oh, the fainthearted may look again. :o)
Today, and for the rest of the week, I’m at work, including half a day on Thursday. We’re almost a month away from production on the Autumn magazine, so I need to finalise content and get the confirmation emails out.