Meg – the super cat

It was just another ordinary day, when I headed off for work. Our menagerie had been fed and watered and all was right with the world. It was only when I returned that I realised that the aforementioned menagerie, are not always as well behaved as I would like them to be. As I pulled up in the drive, I had no inkling of the letter on the kitchen table, telling us of the day’s events.
We have a new bunny (Smartie) also known as ‘she’s soooooooo fluffy!’. When you look at Smartie, butter would not melt in her mouth. However, there is a darker side to said bunny. Somehow, she managed to escape from her hutch and was seen by a neighbour hopping off down the street. A bit like the Famous Five, off for her very own adventure. However, what astounded our neighbour was that Meg, our very thick tabby cat, who believes that she is in fact a rabbit, herded our errant bunny back into our garden. The letter continued, that the neighbour followed the pair into our back garden, to see young Meg nudging the little monster back into her hutch. It was then that Meg started to experience difficulties (not having opposable thumbs). The neighbour very kindly locked the hutch and went on his way to write up the incident for us. Needless to say we thanked our neighbour, treated Meg and thought about giving her a cape and pair of underpants.
As you can see, she’s always at the ready to save the world from danger!

Sycax – A taster……..

They took me to a tiny cell. The guard’s candle threw menacing shadows on the walls, illuminating long scratch marks, as though someone had got so desperate that they had tried to claw their way out. The cell smelt putrid and I saw the source was the excrement covered floor, with what looked like an eyeball in the early stages of decomposition laying close to the door. Already small creatures were beginning to gnaw at it. Then it was dark, the guard left, taking his light with him and locking the door with a screech, like fingernails being drawn down a blackboard.
I immediately tried to conjure up light, but to no avail. I turned and pounded the door, more to release my frustration at being caught, at my stupidity, than any real attempt to escape. Then, for the first time since I had been caught, I felt afraid.

Sycax – Part 2 of the Alba series out from June 2013

Hand in hand, we crossed the finish line

What a night! Having been drafted in at the last minute to ‘Walk the walk’, a 26.2 mile trek around London, I can honestly say it was fab. Usually, I do running events and I do them by myself. This was the first time I had done something as part of a team. Fourteen of us left Milton Keynes in the pouring rain.
It was agreed that four of us would strike out ahead of the rest, as we tended to have a faster pace. My friend, who got me in to the whole excitement, decided at the last minute that she would take part, despite recovering from an injury. After an eternity of waiting for the walk to start, we set out adorned in our bras from Battersea Power Station. We crossed the river and then back again to Battersea Park and then headed off towards Hyde Park, Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament. And so the list of famous landmarks went on. At 4.30 am the birds woke up and we were back by the river and the London Eye. Toilet stops were an interesting experience (please note all the hotels on Park Lane appear to have blocked toilets and so walkers cannot use them.) Eventually, one lovely hotel lady took pity on us. Buses, ambulances, cars and passers-by cheered us on and honked. The Marshalls were amazing. By twenty miles, we were egging each other on and it was a real high to cross Tower Bridge, knowing we had only four miles to go. London is serene at night and beautiful as the dawn breaks. By this time, everything seemed hysterically funny. At 26 miles we joined hands. We started as a team, we endured all the ups and downs of the night together and agreed that we would finish together. It was fantastic to make it over the line. Having dozed in the car, I finally left my friend on her doorstep and walked the mile or so home. Andrew and the boys gave me a lovely greeting. By the way, the orange segments that we had at 21 miles never tasted so great!

Rabbits and Bras – ’nuff said

This time of year is always tense. Students are beginning to lose the plot and wishing that they had paid attention. They inundate me with work and you can see the panic setting in. The exams start on Monday! The sun keeps coming out, just to remind me that it exists, but I am stuck inside, marking, preparing, editing…. and so the list goes on. It is this unending list of things to do that has sent me to the doldrums, but I have managed to find little pick me ups along the way. Firstly, I have decorated my bra. Yes, you read it right. I have decorated my bra. It looks kind of weird, but it will do. I am doing a 26 mile walk at the weekend. Or rather, I am going to drag my feet for 26 miles, as I feel tired and I haven’t even started yet. Then there is the new addition to the family. Smartie, the dwarf lop. Soooooo cute and a GIRL. So Skittle, our other rabbit has gone to the vets to lose some of his essential parts. Andrew has been sat cross-legged all week in sympathy. So here’s to sanity in a few weeks time, when at last, the term will end and hopefully the sun will come out and the unending grey clouds will go away.

And all before 8am!

It all began when I woke up at 6am and staggered downstairs. I had had a week of poor sleep and the fact that I was greeted in the kitchen by the cat, who had raided his biscuit box, did not bode well for the way the day was going to go. By 6.30, I was off to work, walking, as my bag was too heavy to run with and my bike is in storage. 5 minutes into my journey and I had a dilemma. There, scattered acorss the grass were the contents of someone’s bag. Do I deal with it and not get in to do my marking, or do I leave it? I dealt with it. Enlisting the co-operation of a passing dog walker and her poop bags, we set about gathering up the contents into bags, being careful not to get our fingerprints on them. She insisted that I took some photos first (just like in CSI) she added enthusiastically. Once bagged (but not tagged), I carried on my way. I decided that I would drop them off at the police station in Bletchley, as I passed there on my way to work. No sooner had I got there, than my mobile phone rang. Alex was in tears. The cat was stuck up a tree and dad wanted me to get it down.
‘I can’t sweetie, I’m at the police station. Tell dad that he is going to have to deal with it.’
The police station was shut. Apparently crime in Bletchley only occurs between the hours of 9am and 5pm. I would have to go back later on, when I wasn’t teaching. As I turned away, my husband phoned.
‘Why are you at the police station? What has happened?’
I was tempted to say that my perfect murder had finally been uncovered, but he sounded so stressed that I told the truth.
‘I didn’t ask you to deal with the cat’ he said defensively. ‘Have you any suggestions as to how to get it down?’
A ladder was the best I could do. Unless he wanted to undergo the humiliation of calling the fire brigade.
‘Poor Alex, see what you can do.’ I added.
‘It’s the rabbit that has really shaken him up,’ added Andrew.
‘The Rabbit?’
I could hear Andrew regretting telling me this. Apparently, the cat was running away from a staffordshire bull terrier. The cat ran up a tree in the garden and got stuck, the dog turned round and saw the rabbit and then launched itself at the hutch.
Andrew, of course, did not know what type of dog it was. Alex filled me in later. The hutch was a mess when I got home that night. Yes, my weekend was sorted. I get to rebuild the rabbit hutch.
As for the stuff I handed into the police. Apparently, forensics would not be interested as it had rained during the night and so all evidence would have gone. I hope the owner got it back.
And the whole reason I went to work early? My marking? Well I had forgotten to put it in my bag – mmmmmm.

Cows – RUN!

I decided to go for a long run this morning, as I am due to take part in a 26 mile walk in London, in a couple of weeks. It was bright, sunny morning, though chilly. Having run round the lake I decided to go through a field and was a bit dismayed to see that the cows were back. I haven’t seen them at all this year. As I approached the field, they started heading down the path towards me.
‘Damn cows, you have a whole field and you choose to stand on the path’ I muttered as I headed on to the grass. One of them ran at me and then the whole herd sprinted away from me across the field. Weird. I decided to continue and noticed the whole herd staring at me. Okay, I thought. I decided to give them a wide berth and head towards the river. As I did so, the whole herd stampeded towards me. I don’t think I have ever run so fast in my life. I was desperately looking for somewhere safe. I managed to reach the gate just in time and stood trying to catch my breath, my mind racing over their bizarre behaviour.
‘Are you alright? We were just coming to rescue you. My mate likes rescuing damsels in distress.’
I looked up to see two old men, out with their dogs.
‘I wouldn’t walk through there if I were you. The cows are really weird. I’ve never come across anything like it.’
‘Oh we’ll be alright. It’s you they have it in for.’
‘Why? I go through there regularly and have never had trouble before.’
They pointed at my high visibility jacket that I got for Christmas.
‘It’s that. They hate those things, it really spooks them.’
Then it all made sense. I have not been through cow fields before with this particular jacket on.
Note to self – never do that again!

Tomorrow, I shall wear orange.

When I got home from work last night, I decided to show my husband, rather than tell my husband about my day. As I drew the bottle of pear cider and enormous bar of chocolate out of a carrier bag, all he could say was ‘That bad eh?’ I nodded as I sat down to comfort myself. What was worse was I spent most of the night reliving it in my head. So waking up this morning, I felt far from refreshed. It was not going to be a good day. I had to do a lot of marking, which meant, no writing. I also had an appointment with the dreaded optician. Having spent the morning running, marking and editing, I headed out a bit early to buy the boys some shorts. Yes, summer has finally come. Alex is wearing some at the moment that are far too small. Although, he thinks he looks good (bulging in all the wrong places) I think he is too like Freddy Mercury for my liking. Having bought some of a more appropriate size, I saw it. It leapt out at me across the shop. An orange skirt. Anyone who vaguely knows me, knows I love orange. I love it, I love it, I love it! So putting austerity measures, recessions and all the other jargon, I don’t understand aside, I was naughty and bought it. Feeling incredibly guilty, I then went to the optician.
‘It’s the lovely Mrs Brasher’ he cried as I walked in. Which would have been not so uncomfortable, had he not been young enough to be my son. I said good morning and he quipped at the fact I had not disputed that I was lovely. It was then that I decided.
‘Yes I am lovely.’ Who cares about work and buying extravagant orange skirts. All the staff were really up beat. The good news? I don’t need new glasses. Then it was off to the supermarket. Having paid for my items, I was gliding out the shop (that’s how lovely people move) when I saw an old man standing shame-faced next to a broken bottle of salad cream. ‘Poor bloke’ I thought, as I watched my 4 pint semi skimmed milk jettison out of the trolley towards him. So now I was the laughing stock of the supermarket.
‘You’re just like him you are’ joked a customer. I didn’t think so, I have all my teeth. However, the plus side was that the old man felt better and had a good laugh at my expense. I also was given another bottle of milk! Apologising for my existence, I left the store. But whatever the rest of the day may bring, I know, that tomorrow I shall wear orange.