Raining Cats and Dogs

Since the weather is so atrocious here (well not here, but on the East), my mind has turned to cats and dogs-namely Mrs Gubbins's cat at the marina. Its a noisy brute; was quite quiet when it first came, and now seems to think it owns the joint. This smugness of the cat seemed to occur at the same time as the marina dogs-a motly bunch of pugs and pit bulls were placed on leashes by order of whoever makes orders in marinas. The dear feline now stretches, preens and gloats across the short stretch of water at those lesser beings that have to be incarcerated.

Though generally I prefer cats, there was a white Afgan hound in France that won my heart from any philandering floozy. I had the pleasure to live in France in a village for a year. This dog frequented the village, and would often be found comatosed outdside the village supermarket. Though this ploy looked innocent enough, as soon as the manager went round the back for some pickled radish, the dog would leap up and enter the shop, wallking round, greeting the customers, saying such things as "what a lovely day", and "hope you have found what they were looking for". The dog's step would quicken slightly when the manager returned, and then would nimbly slip between aisles, as graceful asa gazelle, whilst the manager would run harum scarum round the should, crashing into customers, trying to rid the shop of the aforementioned (I'm sure I've used that word before) mutt. The dog, when it was ready, and not before, would leave the shop, leaving the manager to enjoying all the benefits of pulmonary collapse.

Across the road from the supermarket was a bench. This bench was often frequented by the elderly gentlemen of the village who were doing one of three things; waiting for a petang game to start nearby, waiting for their turn in a game of petang, or recovering from the exertions of a game. One day a car screeched to a halt, two hooded men jumped out, grabbed one of them, and started to hustle him towards the village bank (cunningly diguised as a portacabin). It took the gent sometime to explain to the would be robbers that it was half day closing, and it would be much better if they came back tomorrow......I'm sure more of my reminiscences are going to leak out onto these pages. More anon

Blue

Postscript: Mrs Jackanapes! Are you suggesting that this erudite and informative journal for the masses should descend even further! I'm ashamed of you, you being civilised and all that. I'm just glad that there is a glimmer of hope for you whilst you still read such words of inspiration and serendipity. Bless you my child.

(you know I really should have been a bishop....)