Category: blog

Those of you who also read Beauty from Chaos…

Between the idea
And the writting
Falls the phone call.

If the day permits,  you may yet get Peter on ‘the last normal day’.

We shall see…

It’s Holy Week.

My car has died and I need urgently to buy a new one, and pick up the rental in the mean time.

I have thousands of pew sheets scattered about the house (well ahead of schedule:  thank you Maureen.)

I have sermons aplenty to think about and a whole host of things to do for two houses.

So naturally, I have resumed using electronic lists.  Vitalist was always more complex than I needed it to be, and now that they want me to pay, I’ve given up.  So, I’ve joined the dairy co-op.

Remember the Milk doesn’t do all that I want it to, but I love love love that simply typing a ‘t’ opens up a new task box, that you can type ‘tom’  to set the due date for tomorrow, th for thursday, and (best of all) ‘next w’ for … well, you get the idea.  The correct date magically appears, and all is well.

But there’s one flaw.

I seek long lists of things crossed off at the end of the day so that I can say, ‘oh look at all I’ve done’.  But of course, with RTM, as soon as I click  ‘complete’ the task disappears from my box.

I can imagine learning to seek the goal of a blank task box.  Perhaps it would help me think ‘OK, I can stop for today’.  But right now it feels very strange.

(and lets not even mention how four days of using RTM has put me back in the throes of  ‘apple or berry?’)

I have returned from the States for a day of serving my ultimate duty.  Purry needy cat, so eager that she rubbed her nose on my glasses frame when I fell asleep.

Molly-cat was particularly glad to come home today because I suspect she’s spent the past week wondering if she would ever see me again.  I know what you’ll say:  ‘you worry too much’.  But this time she had a rather traumatic entry to the cattery.

As we left for the cattery last week, I though ‘I really need to have my car serviced when I get back.’   And right on cue, little car squealed gently in confirmation.  All was well, all was normal till we were on the road to Kilmalcolm.   There was a squeal, then a whistle.  ‘Just a few more miles’  I thought, ‘then I’ll stop at the cattery and think about what to do’. It seemed that we would be fine, but it was not to be:  the temperature suddenly soared, and I pushed the car just a bit further than it wanted to go to turn into the first side street after the fields.

So, there I was wondering:  what is the AA’s policy on cat transportation?

On first attempt all of my Glasgow friends were out of reach.  Desperate measures meant a call to the cattery who offered to come get Molly.  Now, this was hugely helpful — except for Molly.  Once abandoned, always nervous: she was handed to not-her-favourite-carer on a side street and put into an unfamiliar car.

AA came and rescued me.  The kind garage at Bridge of Weir fixed my car and let it sit in their lot for a week (NOT cheaper than airport parking, but Little Car does have a shiny new water pump).  Then, the friend who finally answered the phone — the friend who I knew beyond all others would drop everything and come–  came to get me from the garage and took me to see Molly in prison.

Maybe not my best idea, that.  She was glad to see me,  then I left.

So, today we have clingy cat.  Clingy, molting, if-you-don’t-love-me-I-won’t-care-for-my-coat cat.

Lap-time, then.  Perfect for jet-lagged exhaustion.

Molly sees cupboards being cleaned and books being boxed and is making her own plans for moving.