My Tomcat’s a Toss-pot

Am I the only one who regularly re-christens their pet? My demented tom cat is currently known as F**k’s Sake! Well, at least he thinks that’s his new name as I say it every time he tries to trip me over with his Ninja tactics (which is very many times a day).  How can one cat go from carrying a baby rabbit like a proud lion who has made his first gazelle kill, dragging it between his mighty legs, tossing his mane and generally being very pleased with his murderous ways; to seeing that ‘mummy’ has on that lovely pink fluffy dressing gown, and going all ‘puss in boots’ on me, and trying to suckle the dressing gown like a 5 week old kitten!

I guess it’s no different to the teenage boy who is strutting his stuff and acting tough with his friends to earn his street cred one minute, then crying when he can’t find his favourite bedtime toy .. sheesh.

After repeatedly ramming the closed cat flap with his mighty head, I am beginning to wonder if he has banged his head once to often! More often than not he knocks at the window with the same ‘puss in boots’ wide-eyed look, but then if he isn’t attended to immediately, the battle lines are drawn, and he is like a rampaging viking hammering at the cat flap.

True to form, on Saturday whilst the chimney sweep was doing her thing, he waited for his chance and seized it when she opened the door to get something from her car, and quick as a flash he ran in dropping a live shrew at the computer desk! This, I feel, was a deliberate stealth attack to get me away from the desk. My other half was suitably manly, as the chimney sweep offered to hoover up (????!!) the shrew which had taken to hiding (very sensibly) beneath a large wooden trunk under the desk, in amongst the tangle of wires and speakers nearby.

(Said chimney sweep looked like she was about to jump on the sofa and I wasn’t much better!)

Luckily the offer of ‘hoovering up’ was not taken up, as the brave man of the house (aww) single-handedly tracked the terrified shrew, soothed it with soft words, and gently scooped it up taking it out to the garden stream and releasing him close to the safety of the maze of tunnels at the water’s edge. Oh, my hero … sigh.

Tomcat is currently drenched after sitting (deliberately) out in the pouring rain that is the national dish of Wales. True to form, his first action after being brought into the lovely warm sitting room, was to jab and hold my legs whilst simultaneously attempting to dry his fur on my trousers (well at least I think that was what he was doing!). He is a clever cat … he knows that I don’t like this, although he thinks his new name is a term of endearment I am sure. He knows, that after several affectionate “ouch, get off, damn it, FFS etc, the only way to ensure a ceasefire is to refill his food bowl (even though he hasn’t finished what is in it already).  Feed me human – the bowl of infinity is not to the regulation height of “gargantuan mountain” stature – sort yourself out woman!

Now that my feline master has returned, I am fated to do his bidding or risk a fate more dreadful than you can imagine – he will begin to purr and drool at the same time, rendering my earlier shower and putting on of clean garments totally futile. It is all a ploy to get me to change into the Dressing Gown of Fluffiness and Contentment.  I tell you this cat is a clever, clever boy!

He is known to jump onto the computer desk and randomly walk over the keys, a little like me a guess. So there’s a question, did I actually write this, or did he?? FFS!

Pedwar xx










Exercise – pfft

Let’s be honest, there are those who are just brimming with vitality; they eat the right things, treat their bodies right, and run marathons galore. Well not this wobble-bottom right here, oh no, exercise just does not agree with me at all.

Take my attempts at Spinning Class, now that experience I shall never forget, not only is it engraved for eternity on my mind, but also my lady garden still bears the plough marks to this day! (Padded cycling shorts, wore out the padding quicker than brake linings on Hamilton’s F1 baby).

Jogging?? Seriously? Last time I jogged, there were news reports of tremors of 6.1 on the Richter Scale across Wales and into the Midlands.  Now, I am not the most well-endowed of ladies, but Heaven’s above they did give me a good slapping from my kneecaps to my chin folks.

Insanity; I’ve seen you ladies and gents, raring to go but after 30 minutes you are begging for mercy! Now me, I’d rather spur you on whilst eating a chunky kit kat and a mug of tea – get enough exercise lifting that big old pot 100 times a day (yeah baby, check out my teapot lifting biceps).  The way I see it, I’m more likely to die exercising than choking on my chocolate bar.

Now, I must admit, I did ask for a weighted Hula Hoop at Christmas (yes, I know, I must have been having a seizure of something), and actually I have still got the knack. One thing I did forget though was that hula hooping in your PJs is not a good idea – the screams could be heard across the valley as the weight circumnavigated my bra-less chest and this daft bugger would not give in until the hoop dropped! A painful lesson in the etiquette and the dangers of the hoop.

Fast and Furious typing is the most energetic I get these days; I have muscles on my knuckles that’s for sure!

Until next time my fellow Kooks, until next time ….

Pedwar xx



Ta da!!

Well, I finally did it, re-activated a blog.  Quite frankly, I thought I owed it to my facebook friends to stop subjecting them to such random wittering brought about by the machinations of my weirdly wired brain.

A bit about me, and what you have potentially let yourselves in for (don’t worry, there is a get out clause, and a 14 day cooling off period).

An eternal optimist (well, except when black dog nips), a mother, grandmother, care-giver, lover of life and believer in the magical mysteries and the wonders of this big old Universe.

I live in an old cottage deep in a majestic valley, steeped in history (both me and the valley that is), and when not at work, my mind is free to wobble unfettered around inside my rather cavernous and echoing skull.  This ultimately leads to multiple strings of randomness, occasionally joined together in a haphazard union of marvelously disjointed thoughts which you, my dear friend, are now being subjected to. (oh yes!)  I do, in fact, believe that there is a little person inside my head who delights in taking each string and tying it into ever more complex knots!

So, you have been warned! Now the journey begins, so strap yourselves in, oxygen masks and sick bags at the ready, let’s go!

Pedwar xx