I didn't sleep well last night. My legs were aching again and my back was definitely feeling more like Richard III's than mine . . . mainly because I had picked up two stout hedgerow sticks on my walk and tried Nordic Walking. It is EXACTLY those muscles (if I stretch my arms out today) that are complaining.
Yesterday afternoon I was back down in what had been mum's flat when she was alive, doing some re-decorating. Theo (now called the Fisher King for reasons I shall shortly share with you) was down there with me, exploring and Having Fun. He came in at one point absolutely shrouded in cobwebs, and I could only assume - with hindsight, later - that he had been in the cupboard. Anyway, at around 4 p.m. I had finished, so I shut the doors down there and came upstairs. Now, with 7 cats in the house you don't always have tabs where they all are at any one point in time. They come and go as they please. However, come bed-time, Theo was not asleep on a chair as he normally is. We did a quick search, opening doors and calling him, but nothing. Not a single chirrup or meow. We went to bed. My legs were aching again and my back complaining too, and I tossed and turned, until the pain made me reach for Paracetamol. I continued to toss and turn, wondering where on earth Theo could be. In the early hours of this morning, an idle thought on Theo covered in cobwebs trotted into my mind. I bet he's in the cupboard down there I thought, but was too warm and by that time un-aching, to go down two floors with a torch and satisfy my curiosity.
So when I got up this morning, I went to check, and there he was, warm and snug as a bug in a rug and wondering why I had shut him in a cupboard for the night?!!!
As for his new title, The Fisher King? Well he has always been fascinated by the fish in the pond and for months has been trying to catch one. A couple of weeks ago, I found he has been successful, as there was a very dead (and flat!) goldfish in his bed. A week ago I didn't find a fish, but there were several strands of Canadian Pondweed on the kitchen floor, which is a bit of a give away - he had been at it again. He is very clever. The nearest we have ever had to a fishing cat was dear old Lucky, who used to flick the tadpoles out onto the patio with her paw : )
The photo at the top shows Himself playing in part of a jug and basin set in the hall. He had his bit of rabbit skin there and had been chasing it around the jug, almost juggling with the latter (which is bulbous at the base) just like someone from the Moscow State Circus. We removed the jug whilst it was still in one piece! Isn't he a character? And SO affectionate - when he comes on my lap, he makes a fuss of me like I am stuffed with cat nip!
Still longing for spring and warmer weather, so here is the lane on the way up to Llyn-y-Fan Fach (you can just see the cleft hills in the distance). Take yourself back over a century and imagine Edward Thomas striding along here, as he did then . . .
