Monthly Archives: November 2007

News of the furry, feline variety

Yes, Miffcat MkIII has landed! IRL, ‘Chopper,’ a little old lady of the tabby persuasion is currently lurking down by the washing machine in the utility room. Now what shall we call her online? We’ve had Goth Cat , Viking Cat…Suggestions in a stamped addressed envelope, please. It’s wonderful to have a female in the house again, Ms Miffy still being away across The Pond, and we don’t count the birds. More later, once poor Choppy meets Miffdog properly.

Other news? There’s been plenty to blog about, therefore, with my usual Miffyesque cussedness I’ve been struck down with one of my habitual attacks of acidie. Typical. During a church weekend away last week, the visiting speaker asked for volunteers to stand up and answer a few simple questions. This was by way of showing that we’re all different and that in the global scheme of things, it really doesn’t matter that we are. Boy was I glad I’d remained superglued to my seat. For one of questions was ‘Name one thing you’re good at.’ As I whispered to my neighbour, the only thing I could come up with was ‘procrastination.’ Not quite what was being looked for, I think. Never mind. Judgement Day is at hand. God Moves in Mysterious Ways, or to quote Blackadder ‘God is VERY quick these days!’ More than that I will not say, and, if certain other wibbler/Ship folk should chance upon this, NOT A WORD! Keep your lips sealed and your favourite choclate will be mailed to you forthwith. 😉 Oh, and if it makes you feel better, I woke up yesterday with a stinking cold. Not fair!

At time of writing Ms Miffy and BF are spending Thanksgiving in Canada. The three of us spent a busy but enjoyable few days visiting her in New York a couple of weeks ago. A first for myself and little Miff. My, is the place huge! I’d not been quite sure what to expect, my picture of the city having been gleaned almost entirely from films and literature. And to be honest, if it wasn’t for the fact that Ms M is living there, it certainly wouldn’t have been way up on top of my list of places to see. Still, I was pleasantly surprised. We whirled around and saw all the sights, mastered the subway (at least the others did; I never quite mastered swiping my ticket!) and ate a lot, and generally enjoyed ourselves.

Highlights? For me, don’t laugh – a snatched ten minutes on my own in Starbucks early on our first morning, people and dog watching. And talking of dogs, little M and I are still slightly shocked at spotting some ‘teacup’ dogs for sale in a shop in Greenwich Village. Maybe it’s simply a matter of different cultures, but still… We have pictures of ourselves atop the Rockerfeller Centre; little M resplendent in his first ever proper winter coat. Trenchcoat, Beatle-style. Not so little M now, either. The dreaded UCAS application is finally on its way in. With a personal statement that makes him out to be a cross between the Poet Laureate and Bob Dylan, our youngest has announced his intention to read English; a surprise I must admit.

Any other blogworthy bits from the last few months? For me, as ever, my annual retreat, now an ‘immovable’ booked a whole year in advance. I’ve said a little about that over on my other blog. And related to that, the ‘Seabird’ business is moving along, slowly, with not a little puzzlement on my part. Am I called, am I not? Am I being a self-centered, pretentious prat? What is ‘calling,’ anyway? And, on reflection, aren’t I fortunate to be able to be in the position to be able to consider pursuing these kind of ponderings, in any case? There are a whole load more worrying things I could be lumbered with.

That’s all for now. The kettle calls and I need to check on Choppy.

I never thought to see the day!

Mr Miff comes down of a morning and switches to Planet Rock. Half an hour later, Little Miff (17) descends, cuts Alice Cooper off in mid-stream and changes to Terry Wogan on Radio 2! Have I missed something. In My Young Days, back in the Swinging Seventies, R2 was the province of cosy, middle-aged, slipper- sporting, cardigan- wearing middle-aged oldies.

What about Miffdog and myself, you ask? No question. ‘Carsick FM’ wins every time! We’re cultured, we are!