Monthly Archives: April 2006

Good news!

Just a couple of hours ago we took delivery of one ‘Perkins – The Cat Who Was More than a Friend,’ (after the book of the same title). At present he’s curled up on the windowsill in the utility room whilst Miffdog is reclining in his new, super-duper luxury bed chomping away at a bone. So far, so good.

Even more good news: Ms Miff has heard this weekend that she’s been accepted at her first choice college – Chelsea! She is thrilled to bits and we’re utterly, utterly astounded. Only two students from her group applied (Ms Miff included); many places are already held back for existing Chelsea foundation students, resulting in her and fellow student now being part of the lucky 45 to be selected out of 600 applicants!

Now to the loan and hall applications and the counting of pennies….

Mr Miff returned safely from his Welsh trip last weekend. He took loads of photos (sheep and daffodils figured largely here) and once I can fathom out the blogger software (and have a spare 5 hours or so) I’ll put them up on his blog. As I will here, too. I could really start to get into this digital camera business.

Best of all – Bank holiday tomorrow, so I can sleep in til…ooh…7 a.m! ( Perkins and Miffdog permitting).

It’s been a funny old week

Characterised by creeping cold and dog tiredness. No amount of First Defence squirting seemed to help with the former, so in the end I resorted to stuffing so much Day Nurse and meltus down my throat that anyone watching me winding my way down the street first thing in the morning must have thought that I was some poor, sad wreck staggering home after a night of wild debauchery. Fat chance!

After the joys of Easter Day the week started off with a bang, metaphorically speaking – as due to a recurrence of what I can only describe as a childish ‘blip.’ spiritually, * I threatened to fall flat on my face. (Nothing like mixing your metaphors is there!). And this was before all the navel gazing, guilt – false or otherwise and self-recrimination – resulting in two night’s of disturbed sleep. On night three we went out for a works meal with Mr Miff’s team by which time the cold had struck with a vengeance and four hours sleep only meant that Wednesday saw me almost totally incoherent.

Not the best of timing, as that day saw me sallying forth to what I’ve privately christened ‘The Town of A Thousand Underpasses’ to discuss the ‘Seabird’ business with someone. How I managed I’ll never know; I even dropped off to sleep for a few minutes whilst she was fetching lunch, but colds and incoherence apart I was pleasantly surprised, and came out feeling a sight more confident about the whole process.

The resulting adrenalin rush saw me through Thursday – and I even managed to wake myself up enough to fit in an inbetween singing session in the afternoon. Ideas, please, for songs suitable for a none too strong alto. I’ve abandoned ‘Autumn Leaves,’ and would really like to go for something more classical. J is already doing ‘Che Faro’ from Orpheo et Euridice, so that’s out. We both had a peep at ‘Where E’er You Walk,’ OK, were it not so high. Ditto to ‘I Know That My Redeemer Liveth,’ which both of us would absolutely love to do. Let’s face it; I’m NOT a huge, statuesque 40″ DD busted soprano sweeping all before her. No amount of singing from my upper palate will change my voice from a plaintive warble to Katherine Ferrier like tones. Any suggestions for a slimline bunny with more enthusiasm than skill would be more than welcomed!

So to Friday and total exhaustion. Mr Miff having already departed for the wilds of Llandovery where he’s spending the weekend doing some serious cycling, it was left to Mstr Miff to be on Miffdog duty last thing at night, and for me to tackle the huge ironing mountain in time for the weekend. The former is equally exhausted after a week of GCSE PE assessments terminating in a hamstring injury. On the advice of his teacher I’ve booked him in for a physio session first thing on Monday morning, as we may need a letter for the exam board, (He had to stop partway through the last test).

Today’s been well…different. More ‘seabirding;’ to be more precise, travelling cross country, this time to meet some more folk involved. All on first impressions, very friendly – or maybe I’m becoming less backwards about coming forwards in my old age. Either way, it seems to be the right path to be taking…so far.

* Sadly the news came through early this week of the death of a much loved member of our church – which kind of put it all in perspective.

At Last!

Ms Miffy just received notice of a Chelsea interview on the 25th! The day after she and her father are up at a gig in the Midlands; still never mind. Now all she has to do is sort her portfolio. 🙂

We may or may not be a step further in the cat hunt as well. I’m phoning Cat’s Protection when they open about a recent addition. Then off down to town to arrange hire of a dinner jacket and assorted bits and pieces for little Miff, who’s off to a lacrosse dinner at the end of the month. How does he manage these invites, I ask myself?

Watched recording of ‘Every Parent’s Nightmare,’ from Monday night yesterday evening, plus ‘Manchester Passion.’ Will blog about these later.

It’s like Noah’s ark round here

Don’t know what happened to poor Sydney (see my last entry), but on Wednesday morning, three ducks were waddling in front of me up the main street. You certainly get a different view of the place at that time of night. Who knows what goes on whilst we’re all asleep? Maybe the town’s animal and bird life comes out and parties.

Popped (for that read ‘laboured laboriously with much swearing and creaking of the pc’) a couple more entries into Mr Miffs Tour blog. Do have a peep if you’ve a moment; it’s not all cycle stuff. He’s done a few reflections on the common crisp, for example, after our trip to the pub yesterday.

I’ve discovered an instant passport to popularity – in cyberspace at least. Change your E Mail address and folk will soon be beating a path to your door. Or your In box.

Ms Miff’s still on tentacles or tenterhooks, even, waiting for that elusive notification of uni interview. We’re getting near the end of the first round now, with just two of her group who’ve not heard, one of whom is herself. Not a little unerving. Meanwhile she’s agonising about what to include in her portfolio, how to present it, (so far suggestions have been : in an elephant; her tutor’s suggestion(!); or a shopping trolley). They don’t give much notice of interview, so let’s hope she’s not called for the end of next week when Mr Miff is off in Wales, bike training; her car is far too small to hold an elephant of any variety.

We’ve just watched an old Dr Who episode: ‘The Doctor Dances,’ which we missed first time round. You remember the one with the empty people with gas masks? ‘Are you my Mummy?’ Truly terrifying!

Four free days ahead. And do you know what I’m going to do with them. Sleep in….til at least 8 a.m.!


Animal Sightings

Amongst others so far this week: a rat, which ran across the street in front of me early Monday morning (shudders!); a black cat, spotted loitering with intent near the churchyard THIS morning, and a couple of hours later rush hour traffic was brought to a halt by a suicidal swan attempting to cross the carriageway. I was just heaving a sigh of relief on seeing him finally reaching the safety of the pavement, when blow me, he turns straight round again and starts to make his way back across the road again! I took out my phone, but who do you contact at 8 a.m.? Swanbusters? I didn’t think that the police would be too amused at a 999 call, even if swans are protected by HM The Queen Herself. Environmental Health maybe? I’m sure the dog warden wouldn’t mind diversifiying. But the local governmnent offices aren’t open that early. So, much against my better nature, I had to leave poor Sydney, as I’ve named him – to manage as best he could.

Another, really exciting spot – for Mr Miff and self at least, was at Havenstreet Steam Railway during the Wightmeet last weekend – when somebody came by leading a distant relative of Miffdog, a Petit Griffon Vendeen. Typical picture here: Actually, according to his owner, who’d acquired him as a rescue dog, he was a cross between a PGV and a GBGV (Grand Basset Griffon Vendeen). (The Basset bit, comes from ‘basse’ meaning low to the ground; to put it politely, like a sausage). Researching the breed just now, I’ve learnt that other variations – apart from Miffdog (Basset Fauve) include something called a Briquet Vendeen, which sounds even worse. Dredging up my French from Strasbourg days, I’m under the distinct impression that a Briquet was a type of firelighter! Maybe Eutychus can put me right on this one?

Like Rosamundi, I’ll blog about the Wightmeet later. Procrastination again!

My Patriotic Duty

I was impressed to read that Rosamundi is doing her bit for the general water shortage. I’m further impressed to realise that the hosepipe ban in the SE of the UK is starting tomorrow, on my birthday. As somebody said over the coffee cups after church this morning, ‘Think of it as your gift to the nation.’ No, don’t thank me…. (cue chorus of ‘Land of Hope and Glory,’) unaccustomed as I am to public speaking….etc etc….

OK, to get a link, you need to switch on autolink. But if you do that it switches all your pictures off. Poor Mr Miff has been plunged into outer darkness. Sorry, Rosamundi, the thought was there. Sadly, I’ll have to ‘unlink you’.


Nothing much to report. Caught up on my sleep. You don’t know just how decadent a lie in feels until you have like me, to get up with the birds most other days of the week. Although it does have the advantage of making even a standard early start seem pretty painless. Even Sundays, with the new, earlier service option leaves me with nearly 3 hours more shut eye than I’d normally get.

Although the courier chappie who rang on the bell at 9.30 a.m. must have been traumatised for life at the sight of me on the doorstep in my woolly pyjamas.

Otherwise, washed, ironed, logged on here, repeated the process. Cooked. Fed little Miff before he departed for wild party up the hill. Ms Miffy and the BF departed earlier for a gig in Oxford, chauffered by Mr Miff. So this evening, it’s just me, the pc, the dog and a couple of library reviews which I’ve newly finished.

Bath and bed is calling, I reckon.

Night night all.