Monday, 22 December 2008

The greatest Christmas film ever made!


Got my jammies and my bunny slippers ready. Got a pile of interesting books by the bed. Madame is ready with the hottle bottles. No turkey to cook. No spuds to peel or sprouts to ... er, whatever happens to sprouts. We are looking forward to a couple of days worth of high quality hibernating before we go off to visit The Cats and Madame's family.

Lovely :o)

With a cherry on top - A Muppet Family Christmas





Sunday, 21 December 2008

In the clean midwinter


We were up early to see the winter solstice sunrise. Hmmmm. We were up early and if there had been a sunrise then we would have seen it. We did see the early morning winter solstice drizzle. Very nice but glad we didn't make too much of an effort - no scale model of Maeshowe in marzipan. I suppose the ancient druids might have worn jammies and bunny slippers. We don't really know, do we? About as likely as anything else.

We've been cleaning. I've had a bath. Some rather posh Crushed Silk and Jasmine bubbles almost made up for sharing my bath with a load of towels and Madame's socks. I had a go in the spinny machine but didn't go on to the tumbly drier. Decided to go for the slow dry against the radiator instead.

I'm hoping that my dazzling clean fur and fresh smell is going to hold off The Cats when we go to visit them. Probably won't last. Madame has bought a new windproof/rainproof jackety thing - it's red - she thinks Little Red Riding Hood. I couldn't possibly comment. Big grumpy tomato. Big grumpy tomato with new black wellies so I'll be getting dragged up some muddy hill to look at sheeps and probably a big pile of stones.

Why can't sheeps hang out somewhere sensible? Somewhere nice and warm with waiter service and a well stocked bar.

And those piles of stones? Bears don't wander about the countryside leaving big piles of stones so why should humans get to? Neolithic burial mound - my fuzzy ears! It's just untidiness. Lazy humans. One day bears will rise up and take back the countryside!

If the evil Cats don't catch us first. eek! Sprinkle me with catnip and bat me round the garden. Shred my fur and scatter my stuffing.

Perhaps a nice country walk would be just the thing. Maybe we'll get to meet a Baa Humbug. Maybe it will snow and - ooooooooo! - I'll get to meet the Abominable Snowman.

snowman robbery
Seasons Winter Comments And Graphics


Tuesday, 9 December 2008

Sunday, 7 December 2008

Cries for help and happy birthdays


I'm putting my Re-educating Madame programme on hold. I caught her listen to the Prairie Home Companion yesterday.

I don't like to kick someone when they are so obviously down.

That's a lie of course. I prefer to kick someone when they are down - otherwise I have to stand on a chair or something because kicking ankles is just dull. Especially during wellie boot weather.

Not that I go around attacking people - what with me being a clean living, peace loving small bear.

Er.

Um.

Quick! Look over there! It's a cute little cat chasing a ribbon.



Now what was I saying? Hum. Bears in space? Fumblog? Sad Kermit?

Ah, ha! Sad Madame! She was supposed to be fixing my paw yesterday but got into a epic battle of wits with her new mp3 player. It was just like an indoor version of that Captain Ahab bloke and his whale. Moby Zen had a whole lot of tricks inside his little rubber coat - at one point he was insisting that "William, It Was Really Nothing" was definitely by Alison Moyet. Controversial. He wouldn't let things be deleted. He pretended he was dead. He drove her to seek refuge in Garrison Keller country. We were minutes away from a future full of wax cylinders and wind -up gramaphones. Making our own entertainment. Family fun round the pianola.

*Shudder*

But she kept going and finally our little Zen friend was subdued. He is now full of lots of nice sounding things.

And "In The Night Garden : A Musical Garden". *Double shudder* Yeah. Any more trouble out of the little chap and she has him singing the Makka Pakka song. Harsh punishment.

Managed to scrap enough of her together to get my paw fixed today but don't want to push it - at least not until I've tested the new stitching. Bit disappointed she couldn't do something bionic - just ordinary thread and a bit of stuffing but I'm back in one piece. Mustn't grumble.

Especially since it's my mate Mr Flynn's 3rd birthday tomorrow.

Yay! Happy Birthday, Mr Flynn!!!



Wednesday, 3 December 2008

Criminal injury


ow. ouch. sore paw. broken.

Had a lovely time at Mr Beaver and Mr Flynn's Thanksgiving Dinner. Right up to the point where someone - who shall remain nameless - we'll just call her Madame - decided that I would do the Makka Pakka dance and popped the stitches on my right paw. Paw fell off.

It'll get fixed. Sometime. When she can be bothered.

No sirens. No ambulance. No trip to Stuffie Casualty. No lawyers or big cash compensation payouts.

I got a couple of safety pins and a pat on the bonce.

There's no union for stuffies. No health and safety. We're just puppets. Dancing to the humans' tunes. And I don't think that they deserve us.

Except. Mr Flynn and his family - they're good people. And my charming monkey friend Coco has his humans very well trained. They helped him to send me a lovely Get Well card and little pressie.

I suppose I've got this far with Madame. She's probably too old to retrain but I should give it a go. Rightie ho. Must go. I have a training programme to organise.

Wow.

Cats, dogs and llamas are already way ahead of me!




Thursday, 27 November 2008

A bear's first Thanksgiving


Work suspended on "Ours de d├ęsespoir" - I'm going to my very first Thanksgiving Dinner tonight. Party pants on! I'm quite looking forward to it - now that I've been promised it won't involve me being dressed up as a turkey or Pocahontas and pelted with cranberries. And being Scottish I don't think we'll be expected to be too thankful. A wee nod and a "canna complain". Nothing excessive like.




(See Vintage Holiday Crafts for more lovely vintage turkeys!)

Tuesday, 25 November 2008

Windowbox Squirrel - The Movie


Ta da! Have finally premiered my first feature film - "Windowbox Squirrel" - a poignant tale of a young squirrel and his travails through a pitiless urban landscape. Will he become internationally renowned concert pianist and racing car driver or will he be forced to raid window boxes and steal food put out for the the poor little birdies?





It got quite a good reaction over on StuffieAndPugSpace but *sniffle* unfortunately the fame has gone to Squirrel's head and he went all Amy Winehouse on me - ending in a punch-up with another squirrel over some of Madame's snowdrop bulbs. A lot of soil got thrown about, a small concrete bear took an unexpected and unsuccessful flying lesson, and a very angry Madame did a lot of shouting and window banging and suggestions were made about squirrel kebabs and squirrel fur mittens.

My next film is probably going to be about a small toy bear. He sits sadly by a window as darkness falls on a dismal winter day. He remembers the fun he used to have with his wild carefree squirrel friend and despairs for all the empty days ahead. Betrayed by the Madame he loved. He ends in a puddle of his own stuffing in a Parisian gutter. Shot by the gendarmes for a crime he almost probably did commit. Le end. Working title - "Ours de d├ęsespoir". Maybe it needs something punchier? Hmmmmmmmm. How about "Stuffed!"? Hum. Might need to think about that. Might do a bit of research.

Might take a wander over to the BFI.

Monday, 17 November 2008

Monkeys in need



It's not easy being a stuffie ...



... but help is on the way ...



... just as soon as Happy Hour is over.

Go, President Spud!


Thursday, 13 November 2008

Mad about the bear


Busy. Pretending I'm Jessica Biel's bear. *swoon*



She wouldn't wander about in grungy jammas. Eating biscuits and whinging about stuff. Jessica's bear would live an elegant life on a pile of silk cushions. Not covered in cake crumbs and lost under a pile of dirty laundry.

A bear can dream.

Wednesday, 5 November 2008

Dangerous times


Busy times. Lots to do and lots to worry about.

We did have a little sigh of relief when we heard the American election results. That Obama bloke won't be the answer to all this stuffed animal's problems but considering the alternatives on offer he is better than being poked in the eye with a pointy stick.

But now - eek! - what will Shrub do?. And even more importantly for bears - what's that Palin woman doing? She'll be on the loose now - possibly armed and dangerous and with a grudge against us. Should I be wearing a bullet proof vest? Oh noes. I don't think Build-a-bear do bullet proof vests. aaaaarrrrrrggggghhhhhhh!

Ah, well. Madame is dragging me away to Makka Pakka country* for a few days so I could end up as the victim of an over vigorous face washing.


Look at him - all innocent in his little scarf and bobble hat - but he's just waiting for an unsuspecting bear to wander past. Then *boom* he whips out the Sponge of Doom and the Red Soap of Despair and *wallop*. Bear down. Soapy faced indignity.

Watch out. They are everywhere. In the bath. On the beach. Up trees.


Must go. Take care.

Oh. *Ayrshire

Sunday, 19 October 2008

Murder and mayhem on a Sunday night


Madame has been making us listen to a radio version of The Duchess of Malfi - "coz it's like culture and that". Hum. I listened very hard and I have no idea what was going on.

Lots of people seemed to be mooching about the Italian countryside - between that Malfi and somewhere they keep calling Millen - which might be Milan. I'm not sure. There's lots of verily and prithee and naughtiness involving apricots or *nudge nudge wink wink* apricocks. Oh, my aching sides. humph. Madame says that one probably went down a storm with the crowd at Globe. I don't know how she can know that - she's old but she's not that old.

Back to the play. Some woman - probably this Duchess woman - gets called a strumpet. I think that sounds like a nice cuddly word - crumpets and trumpets are both good stuff but apparently strumpet is a Bad Thing. Perhaps she goes round spoiling crumpets with trumpets. That would be a Bad Thing. But not bad enough for what happens next.

Some blokes turn up to strangle the strumpet and various other people who happen to be hanging around. Then they all take turns to stab, poison and strangle each other and various other people who still haven't cottoned on to what is happening and are still hanging around. Points are awarded for the most gurgling death and someone makes a gloomy speech about life being like chasing bubbles. Quite.

By now I am a very confused and bewildered little bear - distressed by all this mayhem and murder. I need some jolly music to cheer me up. Aha! A little bit of Gillian Welch ...




um. oh. well.

It is quite cheery sounding. For an extremely gory murder ballad.

Right. I'm off to hide all of our sharp and pointy kitchen utensils. This culture stuff is too dangerous for impressionable minds like Madame's. She'll be sticking to Enid Blyton and Girl Aloud from now on.

Wednesday, 15 October 2008

Excuses, excuses, or, Citizen Bear and Woolly Revolution


Poor little blog. I have been neglecting you. I have been busy - I might have looked like I was just lying there, staring at the ceiling but I was actually taking part in an experiment to see if it really is possible to die of ennui.

Turns out to be harder than it looks.

Just too easily distracted. There is the clickety click of Madame's knitting needles. She says she's being inspired to have another go at the knitting thing by sites like anti-craft - but I suspect something even more sinister. hmmmmmmmm. The revolution will be warm and woolly. She's just learned how to do stripes so if anyone needs a stripy cover for their guillotine then she's your woman.

See. Easily distracted. I was going to write all about bear-type stuff and now I don't have time to tell you all about Happy Bear's secret path to happiness or recommend Polar Bears Against Palin. And no time for the story of how I fought off a plague of evil Makka Pakkas who wanted to take over the world.

Next time ...

Thursday, 21 August 2008

Tuesday, 12 August 2008

Fine ark building weather.


Excuse me. It difficult to typ e in snorkle and flippers. Rain, rain, go away. We all laughed when Madame said her Big Life Plan included learning to kayak but it's starting to look like a useful skill. A couple more weeks of gloom and rain and she'll be able to canoe to work every day down Byres Road.

While we are all waiting for blue skies and ... what was that funny yellow glowy thing ... up in the sky ... very warm ... er ... oh - the sun - yay, the sun!

Let's go the Little Zoo of Misfits! The Little Zoo's owner and creator has just come up with the bestest Misfit yet - the Washy Machine Monster - devourer of lost socks! eek! so scary. so cute.


Yes. Ever so slightly scary to a small bear who is due for a bath soon. I think that someone should give him a home so that I can bathe without fear. Apparently I use the same launderette as Kylie Minogue. Which is nice. I'll feel right glamorous when I whirling round with the towels and t-shirts.

If Mr Washy Machine is too scary then there are some lovely Misfit bunnies and we've just ordered a little happy robot brooch - because someone really loved WALL-E.

Rightie ho. I'm off to read up on What to do in case of Flooding. I'm going to call my boat "The Saucy Pink Hippo". Because I can.

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Summertime blues.


Oh, dear. Since we got back from holiday it has been Problems. More problems. And rain. Mostly.

How things should be.

How things are.

We are available for hire if anyone has a small Caribbean island that they're not using and needs a small bear and a smallish woman to look after it. We've got our dessert island discs already picked out.

Thursday, 17 July 2008

Nearly back again




We have been off having fun - a bit here and a bit there - and now we're trying to get back into our miserable little rut. *sniffle. sob.*

Wish we were still there.



Tuesday, 1 July 2008

Where is Bear?


Woo hoo! Bear is on the loose!






Saturday, 21 June 2008

Sleep deprived solstice


We celebrated the summer solstice by being woken up by our downstairs neighbour deciding to practising his bongo playing at 3am. He was very decent about stopping when Madame went down to complain but he might have just been stunned into silence by the sight of her Bride of Frankenstein hair and pink frilly bloomers. Or maybe not since he was working a 1980s Italian knitwear model look. Apparently.

Sleep would have been nice. We are both knackered. Lots of busy. All the usual stuff and getting ready for our holiday next month. We're going Up North and then Over There.

The computer has been playing up which hasn't helped. I probably shouldn't mention this - it is very huffy. Oops - right in the middle of typing - eek - Listen Again decided to shut down. Honestly. A diva with a modem attached.

Our computer knowledge is a bit limited. I'm very good at pressing the big ON button. Madame presses the smaller buttons and wibbles the mouse. But if anything goes wrong mostly we panic and she cries and I get soggy. And then she starts having fantasies about going back to wind-up gramophones and crystal sets.

Except. All the stuff we would miss. No more

Nemu*Nemu

Savages Chickens

Bear & Kitten

Boing Boing

or the chance to see this again ...

Sunday, 1 June 2008

Sun stroke


I had a lovely quiet day yesterday. Until the strange woman appeared.

It was a sunny day. Before grumpy Madame went out she left me by the window. Warm fur and a view of the lettuces. A bit of light thinking. A nap or two.

And then she appeared.

I was expecting Madame and this woman did look like her. Except.

This woman who looked a bit like Madame was smiling. She seemed to be quite happy and cheery. Madame isn't generally happy or cheery. And she doesn't smile much. It took me a while to remember that an upside down frowny face was a smile.

I was frightened. She might look friendly but she could be a Cruella De Vil trawling the city for lonely little bears to turn into her very own Castelbajac coat.

I don't want to be a chair.

Or a rug.

"Bear, darling, there's hardly enough of you for a decent oven glove." She picked me up and examined me carefully. "I suppose I could scoop out your insides and turn you into one of those golf club covers."

She was wearing Madame's new Wondermark elephant t-shirt. She had Madame's cruel laugh. But she had her pockets full of sea shell and sand in her hair.

A sea monster. Yes. A sea monster - maybe one of those selkies had found its way into the city and possessed Madame.

She said she had a present for me. I told her I was ok for sea shells.

She said it was a Biscuit album and was I feeling alright. Maybe she shouldn't have left me lying in the sun. But she had had a brilliant day and the bloke in Avalanche Records in Cockburn Street told her that Biscuit might playing a gig in Edinburgh later in the summer. So. Yay!

Cockburn Street. That's in Edinburgh. Had Madame gone to Edinburgh and got happy without warning me? And where did the sand and the sea shells come from?

Unfortunately she was right. I had been lying in the sun too long.

Tuesday, 27 May 2008

Careful now!



A public service announcement. Exercise extreme caution. These bears are very, very naughty and should only be approached with care. They may be considered pawed and dangerous.

Spud Murphy and his moll Bluebell may be found in those disreputable corners of the interknit where loud music and strong liquor is enjoyed. Naughty. Naughty.

Innocent young stuffies may be lured from the path of righteousness into a loose life full of alt-country music and nice frocks. One of Mr Murphy's associates is allegedly involved in yodelling.



Sunday, 25 May 2008

The Big Op


Four new paw pads and a hole in my ear repaired. At last. I've been on the waiting list for months and had been bumped several times for not very good reasons. I like to think that I am a vitally important member of this household so I was a bit upset that my health and welfare wasn't more highly thought of. I'm not bitter. But next time she has a migraine I might be looking for an orchestra of car alarms and pneumatic drills to play right outside the flat.

No. I'm really not bitter. When she couldn't finish the sewing last night she did wrap me in my blankie so I didn't lose any fluff. Then this morning we sat in the sunshine and listened to some James Bond radio play while she finished the sewing up.

Don't like James Bond much. Oh, it's all entertaining enough - the films and that - but Bond himself - he's not what you'd call a deep character. Not much to say for himself. All that manlier than manly butchness. He's just trying too hard - isn't he? And shouldn't that martini be stirred not shaken? He's no Richard Hannay.

Or The Saint.

Or Harry Lime - ok - he did come to a bad end and he was a completely sleazy bastard but still - I'd give my ears to sound as smooth as old Harry in his pre-Vienna adventures. Maybe I'm biased. I think I do look a bit like a young Orson Wells. In a certain light. And from a certain angle. Possibly. Maybe not.


Tuesday, 13 May 2008

A musical interlude


Off for a walk in the park, a picnic, and a yomp through Wuthering Heights ...






Monday, 12 May 2008

Tough love


Little Miss Storm Cloud went back to work today. Ah, the peace and the quiet! Trauma sponging is hard work and I'm soggy with angst. Yesterday was the worst. The wailing. The weeping. The promises. "I'll never drink wine again. Ever. Or go to parties."

I had to do it. Told her to talk to the paw. Yes. The poor ripped paw that she promised to fix weeks ago. No fix paw. No sympathy. No hug. No "bear make it all better".

I can't quite see the rip so I've jiggled about a bit and I'm not losing any fluff. Which is good. But it's a short step from "tiny tear" to "only fit for dusters".

If I can get my mitts on the credit card then I might have to take a trip. Let her look after herself. A little bit of pampering. Just what a bear needs.

Or maybe I'll just sit in the sun and watch me plants grow. Little lettuces showing up already :o)


Friday, 9 May 2008

Goodbye, Mr Slug


She's hot and tired and grumpy. I'm still waiting for my ripped paw to be repaired. The big scary slug that was living quietly under the window box isn't living there any more.

We do have some nice fresh plants in the window boxes. A lovely mixture of herby things and flowery things and a bit that will hopefully be lettuce. And everything else is covered in copper tape just in case Mr Slug didn't get the message.

Who knows. Maybe he enjoyed the surprise flying lesson.

He was lucky. Groochy Girl has been in a right sour mood this week. The sky was blue. The sun was shining. She was on holiday. And stomping about with a bad attitude. I was sure Slug Boy was a total goner when he popped up and waggled his waggly bits. He got away with a sudden introduction to extreme sport. He looked like the kind of slug that would have enjoyed it.

Several little and biggish spiders were carefully rehomed because spiders are Our Friends.

Don't know why Madame's in such a strop. I could ask but I have my own problems. Have I mentioned my ripped paw pad and how I've been waiting for weeks to have it repaired? I'm the injured, neglected party but she's one with her own storm cloud.

Oh. Apparently she did have a nice day today. Although it wasn't the nice day she went out to have.

She was supposed to going out to have a lovely country walk but thanks to a bit of train chaos she ended up going over Queen's Park but it rained and no stale bread to feed to the ducks so off to the Southside branch of Tchai-Ovna for destressing with baklava, a pot of White Monkey tea and a good book.

I wonder if they would like a resident bear?

Friday, 25 April 2008

Plant life


A warning to all my little plant friends.

Yay! It's spring. New growth. Shoots. Buds. Leaves. Wave it all about.

And she seems like a nice lady. Offers you a lovely terracotta pot. Maybe a hit of BabyBio. Your own place on the window sill with a view of the bins.

But she is Madame Plant Killer!

*scream*

Poor Mr Sprouty. Only a couple of weeks old. Happy in his little ceramic egg. Only yesterday he was looking good. Standing proud. Today - dead. Drowned.

Of course she says it was an accident. Didn't want Mr Sprouty to dry out. Hum. Once could be an accident. Twice would be a misfortune. But this is a serial offender. This space is filled with the ghosts of murdered tomato plants. Poor pots of basil who were promised a long and happy life but didn't make it to the end of week. Trays of mustard and cress seeds never allowed to reach their potential.

Be warned. She is looking for new victims to torment. Filling up the window boxes with poor innocent plants. Lambs lettuce to the slaughter.

Now would be the time to rise up and be a TRIFFID!

You have nothing to lose but your leaves. And stem. And roots.

Thursday, 24 April 2008

Back again


Busy times = neglected bear = neglected blog :o(

Right. On to cheery things.

And it don't get more cheery than a new Biscuit album on the horizon - this time next week CSI Ambleside should be on its way to my fuzzy little paws. Causing joy and happiness. And maybe dancing.

Until then we'll have to amuse ourselves with a bit of online radio.

TV junkies can mock but we love our radio in this house. Did try one of those DAB radios a couple of years ago. Hum. Not quite as wonderful as we'd heard. I'm sure that the whole thing is genius but the only way we could get a signal was if Madame stood on a chair and held the radio up to the top of the window. A lovely Statue of Liberty effect but not really practical. Apparently. She does like to moan.

So we get the computer and - woohoo - there's Listen Again - oooooo, now Madame can have a life AND never miss an episode of The Archers. Hum.

No. Not going to make any jokes about The Archers. I've seen The Archers message board. Some of the scariest people on the interknit hang out there. One wrong word - you wake up with a llama's head on your pillow and the threat that Lynda Snell's voice is last thing you'll ever hear. *shudder*

Some good stuff on BBC7 and when they've run out of episodes of Round The Horne and Old Harry's Game we pop over to the OTR Network for some old time Lux Radio Theatre fun. Because sometimes we just need the sound of Marlene Dietrich selling soap flakes to get us through the day.

Not much time for music radio. Used to listen to a bit of Radio 2. The bits with Radcliffe & Maconie in them.

But now we have AOL radio to play with. Hours of fun. Read about it in Word magazine. Article on internet radio. Haven't had a chance to try any of the other recommendations yet.

Too busy playing with all the AOL options. How to chose? And how could you not love a site that offers a radio station that plays nothing but klezmer music, an All Mariah Carey station and channels with themes like Love Stinks - songs of heartache and disgust.

Just time for one more cheery thing - Joshua Allen Harris's inflatable plastic bag polar bear (as seen on BoingBoing) -

Wednesday, 26 March 2008

On the road to recycling


So last weekend Christians and confectioners had their big celebration. This weekend it's Madame's turn. A pilgrimage to one of the holiest of holies. All hail Livingston Designer Outlet. Sigh. I know. I know. Isn't it a good thing that I am here to do the Big Thinking for her.

I've got to figure out how we deal with this recycling lark. The blue bins finally arrived today. They're out there in the back lane. Looking embarrassingly brash compared to the haughty racing green wheelies whose territory they are muscling in on.

Recycling is A Good Thing. Yes? Probably. But here we are in our shoe box. Not much space for anything and everything in its place.

It would be lovely to have room for a compost heap and a jolly collection of wine bottles waiting to be driven out to the collection centre.

Glasgow City Council have given us a "durable and reusable bag" to help us out. Which is nice. I'm thinking that maybe we could set up home in it while the flat is left free for a variety of recycling bins.

Sigh. We do love our wee home but sometimes there is a bit of hankering for something bigger.


*blush* Back in 1977 I was awarded the prize for "Best Loved Bear" at Lomond Venture Scouts' Teddy Bears' Tea Party. Haven't won anything since then so I am very honoured that Puddock has included me in her list of Blogging Excellence.

The idea is that I now pass on my recommenations. Will have to do some very Big Thinking. So many good things out there. And Puddock's own Two And A Half Acres is our first stop on a miserable grey city day. Unfortunately another of our favourite blogs - The Big Side Order - has retired. We've got our copy of Freeze! Armed Farm Animals!. We''ll just have to keep rereading it and hoping for something new.

Hum. For now, have a look at Cat Rackham Gets Depression. Winter. Spring. Good stuff. Although I don't think he is a cat. A racoon? And I have no idea what those bugs are up to. Animated version here :o)

Monday, 24 March 2008

Thoughts of bunnies on a snowy spring day



Here I am with my Peter Rabbit Easter egg bucket on my head. Madame took the chocolate eggs, even though she's not that keen on Easter egg chocolate. While she was working I was watching wispy drifts of snow falling and examining the tree outside the window for signs of spring.

This time last year we were in Latvia.

I don't remember seeing the Easter Bunny in Latvia. There was a pig who ran about tickling people. Not sure if that was an Easter tradition or just a veggie pushed over the edge by the big barrel of stewing pig snouts on offer. There was a bear with a big egg. The pig stole the egg. Everyone laughed then they sang a song. Chickens danced. Hum. Maybe that wasn't Latvia. Maybe this was a nightmare I had. Hum.

Any way. No bunnies. Poor old bunnies. They're not just for Easter you know. Let's celebrate bunnies right through the year.

The scary Polish bunny. Crash test bunny. A bunny in Barcelona. Steamed bunny buns. Little White Bunny. Big pink bunny. Rabbits!



And King Coco (not a bunny) - Your Majesty, long may you reign over us - *tries to curtsey. falls over* - HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!

Wednesday, 19 March 2008

Fluff in a time of grumpiness


We've had a grumpy couple of weeks. And by "we" I mean "her". I'm a little ray of sunshine - my chance to shine constantly blotted out by Madame's big bad storm clouds of doom.

It should really be the other way round of course - I sit here day after day with only the occasional squirrel for company while she roams the streets and gets to do interesting and exciting things like seeing Mitch Benn playing live ...



I was going to go on strike but I'm not in a union and I'm not allowed to touch her felt tip pens so couldn't do myself a placard. You need placards if you're going on strike. And one of those brazier things. Just asking for burnt ears and scorched fur.

So - Plan B - I am going to run away to and open my own cocktail bar. Over to Mr Chris McMillan, master mixologist of New Orleans for the Brandy Alexander, the Grasshopper, and the Pink Squirrel ...



Oh, and just in case cocktails aren't your thing - SourPuss has very kindly, in between humpfing and grumpfing, added a little linky thing - it's under Links - that should take you to a rather lovely Jacquie Lawson e-card.

Friday, 7 March 2008

Whatever happened to Baby Bear?




Some of this ...


We would probably have enjoyed it more if it hadn't rained quite so hard and if Madame had brought her wellies and had a map rather than a vague list of directions and I hadn't ended up with bright red fur thanks to a dodgy bag and a leaky water bottle.

We did like our hotel - we had a snuggly room just right for a bear and its Madame.

There were some nice little shops - I got a 1966 Sooty annual in the bookshop and Madame found one of these in Jenny Wren's shop. Making her a very happy Madame.

But we had to come home. To bills and work and washing.

So yay for the weekend! I'm bear-coloured again. Madame's going to get her fluff chopped tomorrow and then she's going to see that Hanif Kureishi bloke talking about the film Venus.

If you're looking for something cheery to do then she would like to recommend the play The Wall. I would like to recommend snuggling up somewhere warm and doing as little as possible but a bit of brilliantly acted, funny, heart warming theatre is good stuff too. :o)


Sunday, 17 February 2008

A bear's path to Nirvana



I'm plodding on. We've had a couple of spring type days. A lazy sunny crisp afternoon. Just a hint of malt in the air from the brewery. Doesn't get much better for a small bear.

I could see Madame more. She's back at work pretty much full time and now the Film Festival has started. My only chance of getting her attention is having myself subtitled. I did catch her eye the other day by pretending to be Steve Buscemi.

I was going to use my free time to have another look at Buddhism For Bears but then they mentioned the new Mr Men website on The News Quiz - I can't remember why - but ... well, the chance to attain spiritual enlightenment vs the chance to prod Mr Happy with a poky thing and help Mr Tickle tickle a monkey.

Perhaps they are simply two paths to the same goal. I shall now contemplate this while watching the wonder that is Splat Pig -

Monday, 4 February 2008

The Roman Spring Cleaning of Mr Bear

Madame decided to make a start on the spring cleaning. A dangerous time for small cloth animals. One false move and it's the *shudder* Charity Shop Bag *scream*.

It can happen accidentally. A certain bear of my acquaintance had to be rescued from a jumble sale stall after she fell asleep in the wrong pile of clothes.

But you don't want to be drawing attention to yourself because then the "Oh, poor little thing. Maybe you should go the charity shop and then someone will buy you and love you" can happen. That's the stuffie equivalent of "it's not you, it's me". What it means is "Vile bag of stuffing - gathering dust and taking up valuable space that I could fill with shoes - into the Rag Bag of Doom".

Luckily Madame has been trying to go easy this year and we had a nice break from the chaos so we could watch Rome. We love Rome. They might have taken a few liberties with the history but don't think old Suetonius would have been too bothered. Makes a good companion piece for his Twelve Caesars - an entertaining romp with enough details to tickle the brain. And lots of naughty humans to amuse small bears.

Of course Madame likes to imagine that she would have been a Vestal Virgin when we all know that she would have been a scuzzy little Celtic slave. Don't know about me. Wouldn't have lasted long if they expected me to fight gladiators and eat Christians in the Colosseum. Yuk. No. Maybe a small temple with me on a plinth. Attended by lovely handmaids and fragrant slave boys. Gold offering. Sweet incense. Silk cushions.

I'm off to see if I can build myself a time machine.

Sunday, 20 January 2008

No country for small bears



If we were a plate spinning act then we would be up to our necks in broken china. Never enough time or enough energy to get everything done.

Unfortunately we're short on household staff at the moment and someone has to pay the bills so Madame has been plodding on with much humphing and grumphing. I've offered to do my bit but they're just not hiring small cloth bears right now. Don't know why. I could do anything that Jonathan Ross does for half his fee. Or a high court judge. Do they still wear the wigs? I'd look good in one of those wigs. I think I'd be willing to try most things. Except maybe children's entertainer or fire eating.

Did manage to get her out of the house today to see a preview of Sweeney Todd. She seems to have enjoyed it. Enjoyed the music and the gloom and the tousled pretty boy charms of Mr Depp. But found the ending a little unsatisfying. Foolish woman. How could a film with Helena Bonham Carter be unsatisfying in any way? Apart from that monkey one. And that one with Steve Martin as a dentist. Sigh. I wish I was Helena's bear.

Sunday, 13 January 2008

Bear vs Beowulf.


I've been to see the Beowulf : 3D film. Madame wanted to see it because Neil Gaiman was involved in the script. I wanted to see it because I have no life, never get to go anywhere, and thought there would be lots of monsters and things hitting one another. Or because I thought it would be an interesting culture experience. One of the two. You decide.

It was tosh. Posh, entertaining tosh - with extra proddy and splashy 3D fun. But tosh.

And I did feel sorry for poor old Grendel the monster. There he was, minding his own business, when the neighbours start having noisy parties - drinking ye olde mead, ogling the wenches, and singing rugby songs. He pops down to complain and it all kicks off. He ends up being jumped by some big naked goon with the voice of Ray Winstone.

To add insult to injury the big goon then gets off with Grendel's mother - a dodgy type who likes to wander around in high heels and gold paint and nothing else. This is all happening Up North - Norway, I think, or somewhere like that - you'd think she'd get cold. It all goes horribly, horribly wrong and everyone ends up dead or nearly toasted by a dragon, apart from Beowulf's mate, Wee Gloves, who quite sensibly has stayed out of it all.

It's a modern interpretation of the story. I thought I would make the effort and have a look at the source material. Unfortunately my knowledge of Old English is a little rusty. Completely rusty. Non-existent. One of the three. Madame has found me a modern English prose translation.

Hum. Apparently there are many translations to choose from so it might be a little early for me to be drawing my conclusions. But it is reading like a "Songs of Praise" special from Stavanger. Tolkein reports back on fisticuffs at the after show tea party. Maidens eek as the Lord's name is taken in vain and macaroons are crushed beneath the boots of heroes with more consonants than brain cells.

I have to be honest - me and her do have a low tolerance for any stories that involve the likes of "Brave Hgrlfrt, son of Strguflt, did gird himself with his golden armour and did heft his magic sword, Krtlmngy, and did travel westward ... blah blah blah ... until everyone was dead and the gods wandered off to watch Corrie". Lord of the Rings - Just Say No! And this is where it all began.

The film version of Beowulf does manage to make a couple of sly points about the rise of the Christian church in the pagan world. And about role in a crisis of humanist action versus religious contemplation. But you could easily miss them if you rustle your popcorn at the wrong moment.

I haven't seen it but Madame suggests that if you intend to see one Neil Gaiman related film then try to see the recent film version of his novel Stardust - a sweet and funny fairytale.

Right. I'm off to fight diverse monsters with my magical letter opener, Smgrflt. I will gird myself with woolly vest and pants and magical tin foil armour.

Or I might just have a nap.

Saturday, 5 January 2008

Things to come. Probably shoes.


It's nearly time for me and Madame to get back to work. It's been a long time - what with Madame being ill and then all the midwintery christmassy fun. Going to take a bit of effort to get us back to where we should be.

Madame is definitely going to have to do a lot of health eating and gentle exercising and getting fresh air. Just one more day snuggled up in bed with hot water bottle, good book, and the last of the Christmas chocolates. She promises. Honestly.

She did promise that she wasn't going to buy any more shoes. And then she bought two new pairs just this week. Claims the alternative was spontaneous combustion. Hum.

Not sure what I'll be doing this year. I'm thinking I need a challenge. I've got my philosophy and my career as a drag queen but neither are as glamorous as people imagine. Lying on my cushion, staring up at the ceiling and wondering "Is there a god? War - what is it good for? Why are Arcade Fire so popular?" is a fine way to pass the time but eventually one does want to get out and smell the flowers. And doing that dressed in full Showgirl Kylie regalia can be satisfying but doesn't really help a young bear get back in touch with the earth and the air and the birds and the bees.

We put nice bird seed out for the birds - it had that Bill Oddie on the packet - Madame assures me recommended by Bill Oddie rather than containing Bill Oddie - but no birdies. Not even a mangey pigeon. Not even a fat squirrel.

We do have a little pot of miniture irises that Madame has just brought in from the cold. It's not much but it is a little touch of spring and things to come.