After the high spot of the 100th Blog Post, we now hit the opposite end of the spectrum: weeks of silence coming up. Yes, A.F.K. (Absent from Keyboard) again. And of course, this means a visit to That Place Which Should Not be Named for my companion, Chocolat. But we all have to be brave and deal with it.
Watch this space for further instalments from my electronic soapbox.
In the meantime: be well!
why? (Photo credit: currawongwhisper42)
Chocolat isn’t talking to me, ever since I wheeled my big green suitcase through from the garage. She watched me balefully while I packed books, clothes, shoes, toiletries, gifts. Halfway through the process she stalked away, angrily swishing her tail. She knows from bitter past experience that Suitcase = Cattery.
I’ve tried to ease the pain by offering her something light-hearted to read in my absence, like P G Wodehouse’s Jeeves novels – I always find Bertie Wooster very entertaining, and comfort myself that I don’t have fearsome Aunts to contend with.
Since that suggestion sank like a lead balloon, I tried again: what about Terry Pratchett and his wonderful Discworld novels I said? Chocolat glared at me, swiped at my ankles with an angry claw and buzzed off for the rest of the day. Clearly nothing will suit Madam in her current bad mood, so she’ll just have to endure the durance vile, and for entertainment she can shout loud abuse at the resident Staffies as they race around the lawn in front of the cattery runs.
So, dear readers, I shall be AFK as my friend Dr Sheldon Cooper would say – you don’t know Dr Cooper? The insanely picky genius scientist from TV’s Big Bang Theory? Ag shame, as we say in South Africa. AFK = Absent From Keyboard. I’ll be back – meanwhile: stay safe, stay happy and keep on reading!
Home sweet home
What a relief to be back home, relaxing on our bed as you can see from the pic above.
I cannot tell you how cold, wet and miserable That Place was, and how pleased I was to be back in a warm house, with my staff in attendance, and the choice of three comfy beds to lie on, plus usual access to my morning sunbathing venue under the hedge and my afternoon basking venue easily available. Just to be on the safe side I’ve been extra polite, and putting in extra purring sessions to make sure I don’t get sent back to That Place. It really was too terrible. Recalling my time there makes my whiskers curl and gives me the shivers.
Oh – and by the way, She is B.A.K. (back at keyboard).
Watch this space.
She can pretty it up as much as She likes, but we all know that Cats’ Holiday Camp just means THE CATTERY. Who does She think She’s kidding?
I am not amused. I am not taking many books with me, but I think you will realize how I feel about this excursion once you read the titles:
Mein Kampf by Adolf Hitler
Papillon by Henri Charrière
The Great Escape by Paul Brickhill