Maybe. Maybe not.

We need some glamour. She has lost her get up and go. I have lost my stay in bed and snooze.

Back in the day - ooooooo, I think it might have been a Tuesday in 2007 - I had a bit of success with my burlesque act. Called myself Dita Von Sockpuppet. My fan dance was talked about from the end of the bed to the the top of the book case.

I gave it all up. Bear of a certain age. Ears not as young and perky as they used to be. Hoodies and jeans might be comfy but they don't tickle the snout like champagne bubbles or ostrich feathers.

Can't afford champagne so we think the answer might be more feathers. Madame has been buying varities of fluff and feather and flowers and could become the Fascinator Queen of Scotland. She has had vague thoughts about selling stuff on Etsy but that might cut into her already limited cake eating and film watching time. So many French films. They, the French, rather inconsiderately, keep making more. She may never catch up.

And she has to go and see "Coraline" again. And again. And again. And dye her hair blue.

But she is saying "no" to button eyes. What's wrong with button eyes then?

Mad March Bear

Busy. Lots of busy. Not enough time and too much grumpiness.

We celebrated the start of British Summer Time yesterday - a name that is one of the greatest triumph of hope over experience ever - with a hot water bottle and bed socks and a game of hunt the clock.

Those clocks and watches are wily. We do have a couple of nice radio controlled clocks that change automatically but there are a whole lot more lurking in dusty corners of the bathroom and disguising themselves as telephones and mp3 players and scary robot birds. They have to be rounded up and forced to change but occasionally one sneaky little watch will hide and Madame only finds out that it is clinging to GMT when she is late for an important appointment.

I'm thinking it's time for a major lifestyle change. I'm thinking tiger skin rugs and Eartha Kitt ...