It’s Christmas at Michaelmas Cottage!
As you can see ‘Sleeping with the cat …’ has changed into its Christmas livery. I would like to wish my dear reader a very Merry Christmas and abundance and peace for the New Year and thank him/her for assiduously reading such arrant drivel. I am grateful.
With my love
It’s not pretty but just over a week later this is all that can be seen of my knee operation.
This post comes with a warning: it is not for the squeamish. (I’m sorry, it is a long time since my knees were the subject of admiration … if they ever were).
I know it’s the Christmas Season and this post is a bit off topic but I feel you really kneed to know about my knee operation. (See what I did there? What do you mean ‘why’?)
It wasn’t a major operation you understand, more a sort of wash and brush up of the knee … but from the inside. Even so as I was lying there just about to go in to the operating theatre I really did change my mind. I got an attack of the wobblies and the technicians purposefully distracting chatter didn’t fool me. I just wanted to get up and walk out, tastefully flashing my well-padded, dimpled rear Continue reading
The Toof in all his beauty.
Photo: Angie Jardine
My reader will have noticed a very definite radio silence from this blog over the last couple of weeks. This is because life has happened … and boy, do I mean happened! But now, having taken the precaution of fortifying myself with a fried egg sandwich, it’s time to unburden myself.
The cat has had a dental operation which appears to have left him nervous of all food except for the tomato sauce from tins of sild (small sardines). I put that explanation in as it would seem sild are not well known, especially in the US and the Mac, having an American autocorrect, has unilaterally changed the word to all sorts of diverse, interesting and totally irrelevant things. This is both amusing and annoying … but more especially, annoying.
Anyhoo, the cat’s operation has left him damaged. It’s hard to say if there is any brain damage as he was fairly odd to begin with, but to add to that his eyes are now independently sprung as well. Continue reading
Let’s get this straight, I am not obese, either clinically, morbidly (although I suspect you would certainly feel extremely morbid if you were obese) or even mildly gloomily. But I am a trifle more portly than I would like to be and, disappointingly, I could ‘thigh’ for Great Britain.
If that sounds vain to you I will just have to come at you from another angle. As it’s more than a bit late to worry about what I look like to anyone else I sacked that off as irrelevant a long time ago. No, I’m thinking only of my health here and the effect on my poor little heart of having to lug around a hulking great carcass … with the accent on the ‘ass’ bit. Continue reading