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most excellent afternoon/evening :-D
The Summer Palace on Wimborne Road does the most awesome deep-fried salt-and-pepper "mixed meat" (duck, beef, prawns and chicken) and their pancake rolls are the best I've ever tasted. Doctor Who was... hmmm, I'm thinking the plot was a tad predictable and some of the dialogue was kinda lame, but there was Maureen Lipman and there was Tennant with a duck's arse, and it was oh, so beautiful and atmospheric and a lot of fun. And there was other fun too, tired as we were, and that was different because of tiredness; but tiredness can make it better, sometimes. Today was one of those times.
Cass/Faith likes to sit on the back of my computer chair and purr on my neck while I type. She also showed signs of doing a Monty* when the Chinese food arrived, but I hissed at her and made her stop. Being small, cute and preggo doesn't exempt you from basic table manners in this house.
Note to self: get a squirt bottle or a water pistol. Might help with Squish's yapping too. That's getting somewhat excessive and he doesn't seem able to connect the word "no" with it as he would if it were something physical he was doing.
I have ordered Spike a new harness. I don't get paid for another week but Mum agreed to cover it until then. Watching someone you love karate-chop himself in the larynx every time he sees something interesting gets old very fast.
Still tired, but oh, so happy.
*Monty was one of my Auntie Jeannie's cats. He was a rangy, manky tabby with snaggle teeth, a hit-and-miss attitude towards the litter tray (on a good day he'd go in the same room as the tray) and a purr like a rusty chainsaw. He was as omnivorous as a half-starved boar-pig and only very slightly less pushy. If you were unwise enough to eat anything in the same room as him you needed to keep a hand free to bat him out of the air every time he tried to take a flying leap into your plate or attack your fork on its way to your mouth. It didn't matter what you were eating. I once lobbed the hard tail-end of a French stick at him to get him to bugger off and let me eat in peace, and he pounced happily on it and ate every crumb in about fifteen seconds.
The Summer Palace on Wimborne Road does the most awesome deep-fried salt-and-pepper "mixed meat" (duck, beef, prawns and chicken) and their pancake rolls are the best I've ever tasted. Doctor Who was... hmmm, I'm thinking the plot was a tad predictable and some of the dialogue was kinda lame, but there was Maureen Lipman and there was Tennant with a duck's arse, and it was oh, so beautiful and atmospheric and a lot of fun. And there was other fun too, tired as we were, and that was different because of tiredness; but tiredness can make it better, sometimes. Today was one of those times.
Cass/Faith likes to sit on the back of my computer chair and purr on my neck while I type. She also showed signs of doing a Monty* when the Chinese food arrived, but I hissed at her and made her stop. Being small, cute and preggo doesn't exempt you from basic table manners in this house.
Note to self: get a squirt bottle or a water pistol. Might help with Squish's yapping too. That's getting somewhat excessive and he doesn't seem able to connect the word "no" with it as he would if it were something physical he was doing.
I have ordered Spike a new harness. I don't get paid for another week but Mum agreed to cover it until then. Watching someone you love karate-chop himself in the larynx every time he sees something interesting gets old very fast.
Still tired, but oh, so happy.
*Monty was one of my Auntie Jeannie's cats. He was a rangy, manky tabby with snaggle teeth, a hit-and-miss attitude towards the litter tray (on a good day he'd go in the same room as the tray) and a purr like a rusty chainsaw. He was as omnivorous as a half-starved boar-pig and only very slightly less pushy. If you were unwise enough to eat anything in the same room as him you needed to keep a hand free to bat him out of the air every time he tried to take a flying leap into your plate or attack your fork on its way to your mouth. It didn't matter what you were eating. I once lobbed the hard tail-end of a French stick at him to get him to bugger off and let me eat in peace, and he pounced happily on it and ate every crumb in about fifteen seconds.
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