Saturday, 21 June 2008
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
Bear & Kitten
or the chance to see this again ...
Sunday, 1 June 2008
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.