Unenchanted August

Looks like I've had fun this month. Guess we didn't take photos of the rubbish bits. The dodgy phone line. The rain. Madame's poorly tummy. My ripped paw. More rain. Various bits of gloom and bad news.

So the sun did shine. We went visiting. Trips to Ayrshire and Fife. Madame did lots of shopping. More wool. *scream*

Wait! Sorry. Apparently we have learn to call it "yarn". Because it's not all wool. Oh, no ... *glazes over. falls off bed*

I do apologise. She has joined Ravelry. Stop her and ask her all about knitting cotton wash cloths and why bamboo feels lovely but is a nightmare to knit. Please. Give a bear a night off.

Maybe I should pray to the divine Alan Measles. He looks like he could do with some of the yarn mountain for a few repairs. But he does have his own golden throne. If the Church of Alan Measles takes off I wonder if they would let me be Pope. Or one of those Arch Bishop chaps. I'd be perfect. I look good in a frock. I can do that falling over and kissing the ground thing. I can speak Latin. "Ecce!" That's your actual Roman, that is - and it means, er, something ... um, er ... I can speak the Latin. Do I have to understand it as well? Life is not fair. We need Measles!

Nearly time to go. Got to get back to work. Going to see if we can get the poorly Madame to eat some soup. She needs to build up her strength for dealing with the Squirrel. BT bloke reckons that Squirrel was to blame for the problems with our old phone line. He's been out there today - Squirrel, not BT bloke - having a go at the new line. He should just be thankful that Madame is still feeling queasy and we can't find a recipe for bin fed squirrel pie.

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 désespoir". 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.

Bear on a bridge. Bear in a cave. Horse on drugs. Socialist squirrels.

I'm not buying this bear on a bridge story. He panicked. Humph. I think we all know that this was an Extreme Ironing stunt that went wrong. Just out of shot in that first photo there's a polar bear legging it with a can of spray starch and a pile of freshly pressed pillow cases.

Elsewhere on the Interknit I've learned that drugs is bad.

And why Mummy Mommy Squirrel is a democrat.

I haven't thought about it too much but I'd say that the squirrels about here looked more like Socialist Workers. I'll try humming The Red Flag next time one lands in the window box.

Had a bit of old fashioned fun last weekend thanks to a challenge from top bear Jasper - pillow fort building.

I built me a Cushion Cave. Snuggly. A certain person was rather sniffy.

"Stop messing up the bed. Why are you building a Neolithic burial chamber out of cushions?"

Just jealous. And there weren't enough pillows for a Great Pyramid.

nuts

more squirrels

That is all.

Ok.

Have this as well ...

for Nomi

discovered via tastesthesame.

Off to celebrate the announcement that our glorious leader - Tiny Blur I believe he's called - is stepping down. Not sure what he's been standing on but it sound like a Good Thing that he's stopping. I'm not much of a political animal but at least his potential replacement Paddington Brown does have the good taste to come from Fife. Always a wise choice. And I do think that it will be comforting to have a bear in power. Even if he does like marmalade and duffle coats. A warm and sticky combination.

So, all this excitement and the promise of a special 48 page commemorative pull-out in the Guardian tomorrow. How will I sleep?

Doing her bidding

Everything's been on hold this evening while the seconds ticked by on Ebay. Sweep. As an axe-wielding rock god. On a t-shirt. She won.

I've been passing the time by thinking about Window Box Squirrel. He's gone missing again. She doesn't care. She's getting ready to set up the netting and gun turrets again. Spring has sprung and plants are growing. Pah.

Would I like one of these? Would it be better in jelly babies?

Be Your Own Pet

... best band name EVER. Don't know about the noise they make but the name ... good stuff.

Even more exciting news. Window Box Squirrel is back! She says it's probably some other squirrel but she's just sore about the big hole he's dug. I think I'd know my squirrel. Actually it's not that big a hole and it's not as if there's anything out there. Nothing growing. Even the windmills are looking a bit tatty. I think Mr Squirrel's interesting and innovative landscaping technique is a valid comment on the theme of doom and desolation right outside my window.

And, no, she's not allowed a creme egg.

missing

Window box squirrel. We weren't exactly friends but I'm missing him.

He hasn't been about for a while. It was my secret for at first. She goes out to do whatever it is that she does - buying shoes and chasing unsuitable men I think - and I sit here - doing big thinking - "is there a god?", "if I think, am I?", "what are Oasis for?". The window boxes are a bit dull. But there he was - sitting on her lettuces. He did make a bit of a mess. She set up Colditz for salad plants - green netting, barbed wire, gun turrets and little windmills. I liked his little wiggly ears and his come-hither fluffy tail. She bought a book about outwitting squirrels. He was too wily.

But no sign of him these days.