She. Again.

Sure I've mentioned it before but since I'm bearing the scratches I thought it worth a reminder other than the physical today.

She is eighteen.  She has taken to expecting to be fed on the softest, jelliest, juiciest pieces of meat and to receive them four or five times a day.  She is a slim cat, there is no understanding it but there is no getting away from it either she is stick thin and proud of it.

I've noticed over the past year or so that she has become more talkative the subject is usually anything she dislikes or that she considers invades her space, which is all of the space or put another way any space she decides is hers, or it could be that she feels she is being urged to make a decision faster than she considers appropriate.

I'm patient but even the neighbours noticed when she was on the roof of the house shrieking at me for a) leaving her locked out and b) taking too long to do the shopping.  The neighbour thought it was funny.  He has no idea how that husky little croak of a voice can get to you, none at all.

The thing that has me exercised today is she as anyone who reads this blog knows sleeps in the crook of my arm whenever I decide to take a nap on the old sofa.  I admit its a bit of a liberty the old sofa being more or less theirs and they being territorial, but its a three seater  and there is plenty of room.

Today I thought I would have a nap.  I'd been typing, I was bored with it and it was raining cats and dogs outside.   I stretched out on the old sofa and she claws carefully extended padded all along my back over my shoulder and down into the crook of my arm and there she paused to look up and stare.

The reason for the delay was Olly.  He is the alpha male in our household.  This is undeniable because he is also the only male.   He gets himself in a bit of a tizzy sometimes when the girls bully him and they bully him all the rime.

This is why he, to show his seniority, climbs onto the back of the sofa and positions himself so that one fore paw rests directly above my head.  He likes this and even manages to look quite regal.   I don't mind it, the paw doesn't actually touch me its a symbolic gesture they are the only ones my poor Olly is allowed.

The one who does object is she in the crook of my arm.   She stares, glares and fidgets.  Her claws extend, her purr becomes a growl and then a hiss and I, stand up, shut the door on the lot of em, did I forget to mention Pippa, Trixie and Jezzie on my legs and feet?  And go to bed for an hour.....

Anyone checking would see all five of them spreadeagled across the sofa she having decided she doesn't mind sharing a space its me she won't share. 

Ursula Cont...

                             whofortedblog.com Source:

Found these somewhere and couldn't resist bringing them here.  Ursula may she be frolicing with a lover somewhere happy, may or may not be a relative of mine.  I suppose I could check but why?   Is it not better to have a fantasy that's a little bit of fun and respect rather than a fact that may be negative and that will include the pain she must have suffered?   I like the connection the way it is.

The images above are said to be of ghosts haunting the witches prison.   I did think ectoplasm had been largely dismissed but the pictures are said to be ectoplasmic outlines of figures gliding aroung the building known as The Cage its a property that was used to imprison those unfortunates accused of witchcraft. Vanessa Mitchell is the current owner of the building and the two images were snapped without manipulation by spirit photographer Ron Bowers in front of a room full of onlookers.

At one time The Cage served as the village prison for all criminals in ST Osyth Essex England but its become better known as the place that held  Ursula Kemp and fourteen other local women who were accused of witchcraft and hung in the 1500s.

Morning She Dawdles

Why, she wondered do we always feel safer in daylight? We’re all the same the night is the fear and there’s a tinge of relief when we see each new day dawn.

But are we right? Does not the night conceal us as it conceals everything? Do we not lurk in the shadows afraid of our own, concealing from others equally afraid of their unknown.

Daylight is appearing though its not yet dawn  I opened my door and there were lighter streaks criss crossing the horizon.  I smiled and wondered why was I smiling? Am I relieved I made it through another night?  Is it safer to open a window now or soon? Will I go back to bed and sleep more soundly knowing a stranger could see a strange path?

Ah but the dawn is approaching, taking her time, d’ye ever notice dawn is always ‘she’? ‘She’ is dawdling her way across the horizon, slowly approaching my door and I feel better as though a friend were nearly here.

The Most Important.

I've come to the conclusion that the most important part of us is not how beautiful we are,  how clever we are, how generous we are or the warmth of our personality.   All of those are important of course but not me thinks the most important.

The most important, I think,  is our ability to laugh, at others yes, but even more importantly at ourselves, that genie in us that laughs out loud regardless.   Laughter disarms anger and washes away pain faster than any apology, tears or soap. 

When you laugh you actually then have to stop and think, to try to remember whatever it was that made you angry.   I love to laugh and I laugh a lot.   It pays dividends in life.

Closer...

Admiral William Brown born in Foxford Co Mayo and who as everyone knows left Ireland with his father when he was aged nine.   He became an admiral in Argentina and is famous and respected there.

Circling.

Cool or Cruel

It could've been kinda cool
A friendly stranger
Away in the distance
A word of guidance
Or warning with a smile

Too bad it wasn't
Nothing like

The casual theft
Of things not meant
Of practice, trial and error
stolen as fact

Nothing left
Nowhere to run

A world of hurt
In a strangers sneer
Multiplied by numbers
Confirmed and suspected

Kind of Loving

There are so many kinds of and reasons for love.  I love coffee ice cream and rum and raisin.  I love banana milk shakes and I love soda bread.  So many loves, too many to list.  I love all dogs and cats and though mine are mine I wouldn't say I love them more or less than those I don’t know.

People too, so many people I care about, all for different reasons all for the same one: they move me, something in them strikes a chord and that’s it.  Its nothing new, artists have for centuries fed off the inspiration provided by a person such a person became known as a muse,

Not sexual although like all human relationships it depended on the artist and his/her muse, sometimes its a deep affection, sometimes respect, and sometimes it must have been sexual which doesn’t mean it was sex.
And perhaps occasionally, rarely it was a kind of hatred.   Fury at something recognised and immediately disliked, perhaps those are the most incendiary non relationships, because this one produces an instant, striking response and such a response whilst rarely physical is always emotional.

Eh, its four in the morning, I’m awake and I can doodle if I want.

And no I'm not flattering myself that I was some kind of muse I already said I don't believe a word of it...

Be well.

Close Enough

I've known people stop to ask this one directions.  Not me but rushing by I have muttered an absent minded "Excuse me"  at least once.    I've never seen statues like these anywhere else either.   I think they're kinda touching.   In lieu of people eh...

De'ye see the skirt is crinkled?

Scary !

Look!
At the woman calling
There on the corner
The one with the lamp
Shining

Step back!
Beware
Its not a cat she wants
Away over there
Glaring

Its a trap!
Run! flee
Find a hole it shouldn't be hard
For a mouse like thee
Hiding

Women and girls they're all the same
At the bone.
With a swish of the tail
They follow you home
 Strut into the night
Hissing

Home from Home

Or not?

I wonder did you see the difference, did you feel it?   To me it always seemed striking. The closest I got to the feel of the north and the look of the UK was Donegal.  The people there would hate that but I used to think it was visible in the look of things.  I should mention Dublin but Dublin has the same feel all big cities have they're kind of international.  Although.....

The time I noticed the difference when I flew into Dublin:   It was almost the end of the rush hour when I arrived.  In the evening light the streets shone with the warm wet of a recent shower.  At the station the last train to Castlebar had left, In a panic I phoned the bus station and was told by a very relaxed voice that the last bus would be leaving Euston in about ten minutes.  I squealed with rage and the voice at the bus station without changing his tone or pausing for thought told me not to worry, if I would go to Euston straight away he would make sure the bus waited for me.

I rushed across and there glittering under the light was  my bus to Mayo waiting, that was when I knew I was in Ireland, can you imagine London?

later...

Definitely.

Close to Home

Just thought I'd put this here. 

Poor Tree

Time to change the subject, well just a bit...

I hate tree felling.  Its a huge industry and its a danger to the well being of the planet and that means us.  There is a skill to felling a tree and it seems this man lacked it or maybe the tree was weakened in a storm but at least the man was safe and hopefully the house was insured.

Source:    http://gifsoup.com/view/2985344/tree-falling-on-house.html

The Road Not Taken - Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth

Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim
Because it was grassy and wanted wear
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black
Oh, I kept the first for another day
Yet knowing how way leads on to way
I doubted if I should ever come back

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence
Two roads diverged in a wood and I
Took the one less travelled by
And that has made all the difference.

So long its been!   I came across this one today after too many years.  How many ways are there to say I have always loved this?  

I'm sorry its so close to a couple of what I hesitate to call  my own poems.   I'm taking refuge in the fact that I still can't read my own stuff...

And yes rather surprisingly and nearing the end I think I can honestly soy I took the path less travelled by.

Blessings may you always find refuge in the words

Hot!

A wonderful couple of days and the gardener came today making it perfect.   I had to go to town this afternoon I met a relative but we didn't stop, for some reason not every bar and restaurant here has air conditioning and it was so hot!

I was worried too that I might miss the gardener Trixie had managed to evade me and I was concerned she would be stuck if the gardener started mowing the lawn before I returned.   I was anxious to make sure the lawn was mowed after two wet weeks some of the nettles were almost knee high.  It looks good now, not perfect I'm not sure it ever could look perfect or that I would like it if it did.

Trixie was fine she rushed inside as soon as I opened the door.   My relative had wanted to meet me later for a drink in a cool climate but I ratted I wanted to spend some quality time in the garden with the dogs and cats and the gardener is back tomorrow to spray stuff so the animals will be trapped inside until he has finished.

A nice, comfortable day I so hope the weather lasts.

She Wants You to Know

She didn't cry, not a bit.  
Sure it may have been a trick of the breeze bruising and stinging wherever it touched

She may have stared and well who wouldn't?  But cry?
No not her.  Sure the sun had been glaring on a silver perishing frost

She may have rubbed her face and why not?
She do think the midges are early this year and see they do get through the tiniest cracks and ice can burn like a boiling pot.

She didn't cry, true she stared why wouldn't she it was such a shock.
Who treats anything like that.   Her gaze may have fled from this one or that,
and the sun and the wind hit her eyes like a slap.

She didn't cry.  And sure they're all dead, there's not one could be rescued not one could be fed.  
Its not  that she cares and its not on her mind, life plays its small tricks and the wind makes you blind.

She didn't cry.  Not even a sigh.  The glare of the night played tricks with the light and  what she wants you to know is that she didn't cry.

Did I mention?

 I shop wherever I see what I want to buy and where there is hardly if any queue.  I cannot abide queues or the brats that scream blue murder while mum chats to some stranger in the bloody queue.

I buy what I want with never so much as a glance at an advert for anything.   Special offers are irrelevant unless its something I was going to buy anyway and there is no bloody queue.

I'll go to the beach but only if there's no one else on it.  I don't mind dogs on the beach I would rather clear their poo than some lazy low life two legged creatures detritus.  I'm nice to strangers I never notice them.

If any of ye were dying of thirst in a desert I'm sure you know I'd watch and patiently wait not for the corpse I'm sure I've no use for the bones of others but for the certainty and the amusement.

Eat shit...

Like!

http://theartofanimation.tumblr.com/post/54777132940/tristan-elwell

 love this.

Four in the Morning

I was comfortable enough, sitting reading, ploughing through some old stuff, commenting occasionally on some new.  At about 4am I  was disturbed by Jezzie who seems to have developed the habit of going at that time every morning which is the main reason people can rely upon me to know when day breaks.   Ollie is no help he only has to get the hint of a chance in the garden and he's off yapping at the door.

I let them both out and stood watching the sun rise over the mountains it was as it always is beautiful, clean and slightly misty.   This time though there was a slight difference,   I was struck by something in the air it was full of a beautiful smell, fresh, kinda flowery, kinda delicate.  I love that smell.

I've never noticed it before, I don't know where it came from or why I noticed it today, all who know me know that I'm usually up at 4am its not unusual for me to open the door and stroll in the garden as I wait for the dogs.  It doesn't really matter where it came from its enough to know it was there and it was beautiful.

Witchcraft

Doesn’t require faith or belief in any gods they are a distraction from the reality of nature based magic, as though nature isn't good enough for some people they have to dress it up in the fiction of ancient writings.

Perhaps the truth is it isn’t Witchcraft they respect its money and fiction pays better.  Buy another apple, dear…

Twilight Frolic

It was when I was about to draw the curtains before letting the dogs out for an evening run.  I looked out of my window  and saw her,  she was skipping, literally skipping along the top of my garden wall.    I had to stop to watch the pleasure she was taking in the twilight, anyway I had to wait I couldn't possibly let the dogs out they would have gone nuts.

The dogs have very specific ideas about what is their territory it includes the fields either side, behind, and across the road from our house.    It definitely includes the road and the old barn which is where this happy and so relaxed lady was headed her long black tail swishing in the breeze.

She is beautiful white with patches of black and that long black tail.   She has babies in the barn and that was where she was headed on this, balmy lazy evening.  She jumped down from the wall,  crossed the road and disappeared into the long grass.

I went out later, a brief stroll before locking up for the night, and as I very quietly passed the barn I just happened to drop some cat food on the ledge.  It was an accident!  Anyone could have done it……

What's in a Name?

There appears to be a little misunderstanding abroad.  It seems some think I may dislike one person more than another or others.  Hmm.  I can't decide if that means someone actually believes, actually thinks there are some I like more than others?

Part of me feels like one of those women who regularly mentally paint the ceilings of every room in the house, know precisely how many roses there are on the bedroom wall, and the exact time a spiders web appears in the crevices, and yet she is assumed by her partner to be happy and contented.

Then again when someone deliberately chooses a name to draw attention to him/herself and acts like some sort of pocket pitbull, that person is inviting attack.

I have come to the conclusion that I was deliberately led to the site and deliberately misled about the sites ownership and management to the extent that I almost volunteered to contribute only some sixth sense held me back.  We are talking about a conspiracy dating back five years, five years of abuse and misuse.  How they laughed.

Now? well they're not laughing are they, and my acting is not only every bit as good as theirs its better, and all whilst maintaining enough warmth and humanity to reach out to one who is sick and give him my assurance that he is safe for the duration of his illness.    If some thought that included a blank cheque for them they were and are wrong.

Passive aggressive? How wrong is it possible to be, well there is wrong and there is catastrophic error.

Toying

With an idea.   I think I may do something with all the posts about the animals perhaps create a new blog, add pictures, or something.   I think I've spent the last while spending too much time stressing about other things, they will come together in due course.

Time maybe to get back to that to reflect upon the quiet, peaceful passage of time in my rural home.  Not that its so quiet anymore as for peaceful?  Huh!   Not the point!  I digress and I mustn't.  I must concentrate and see where I am.

---

I think the reason these attacks get to me so easily is that they're not isolated one offs from some anonymous idiot.   Each one is just the latest in a very long list, an additional strain.