RIS and SAC

I’m on two scrutiny committees on the Council this year, Regneration, Infrastructure and Sustainability and Serving the Adult Community.

Anyone who reads B3ta will know that RIS is funny.  It’s b3tan slang for people who just don’t get it. A guy posted a picture of his local Morrisons supermarket which had had a lightbulb failure so that its sign read MOR   ONS. The guy who didn’t get it posted “RIS?”

I’ve a feeling the good people of b3ta would find SAC funny too.

R’s party

I didn’t blog last week, so missed mentioning R’s fancy dress party, “heroes and villains.”

Best set of photos is here, including me as CSI Grissom (a hero who doesn’t shave! Yay!) complete with gun and ALS, and P as Austin Powers. But look out for Jason King, two Cruellas de Ville, Classic Movie Villain, Screaming Heroine…  Party included Dr Who.  Of course.

Given R’s penchant for the piquant, I made the crazy vodka-soaked, white-chocolate stuffed, dark chocolate coated chillis.  They were surprisingly edible.  The vodka they were soaked in was poured back into the bottle and had quite a kick given it’d had only had 24 hours in contact with chillis.  Piping the peppered, vodka-laced white chocolate through a baggie with a corner cut off was easier than I expected.  The dark chocolate refused to stick to the outside of the chillis.

R's party

I didn’t blog last week, so missed mentioning R’s fancy dress party, “heroes and villains.”

Best set of photos is here, including me as CSI Grissom (a hero who doesn’t shave! Yay!) complete with gun and ALS, and P as Austin Powers. But look out for Jason King, two Cruellas de Ville, Classic Movie Villain, Screaming Heroine…  Party included Dr Who.  Of course.

Given R’s penchant for the piquant, I made the crazy vodka-soaked, white-chocolate stuffed, dark chocolate coated chillis.  They were surprisingly edible.  The vodka they were soaked in was poured back into the bottle and had quite a kick given it’d had only had 24 hours in contact with chillis.  Piping the peppered, vodka-laced white chocolate through a baggie with a corner cut off was easier than I expected.  The dark chocolate refused to stick to the outside of the chillis.

Feline Freedom

After watching the cats sit on an upstairs window ledge shouting at neighbour cat usurpers and what I think were tits flying very close to the house, we decided it was time to let them have their freedom outside.

P was watching Chocolat on TV so we opened the French windows in the sitting room and let them out.

Smudge, the timid, grey and white one very sensibly went a little way, then ran back, and then back out again a little further, then back, and so on.

Fudge barged out into the garden, and started on the route the other cats take, sniffing things, hiding where the other cats hide, marching down into the rest of the garden, and then vanishing.

Time passed.

Smudge came in and out again.

No sign of Fudge.

Went for a bit of an explore of the garden.  No sign of Fudge.  Three other cats inhabiting the lower garden, no Fudge.

It’s now dark.  Decide to banish Smudge to back of house and leave French doors open.

I come up to computer book ferries for French holiday.  A few minutes later, P comes up saying Chocolat has finished, but no sign of Fudge.

A little worried now.

I go down, out onto patio, calling name, banging dish (this doesn’t work indoors, why should it work outdoors).  Put on shoes.  Go back down the garden.  No sign.

Look back at house.  Fudge sitting on back step.  When I called him, he came from inside the house.  How did he get back in?  His fur is cold, so he can’t have been in long.  Grrr.  No going out tomorrow.

Muddy pawprints in the bath


Muddy pawprints in the bath

Originally uploaded by nilexuk.

The cats have been with us for almost two weeks now, punctuated last Tuesday by a return to the Centre for booster jabs.

The second week has gone less well than the first. I think the jabs took a lot out of Fudge and he’s spent a lot of time in hiding. He’s been a far less gregarious cat, not insisting on attention and not really sitting on laps.

Smudge has come out of himself a lot more but it’s become clear that he does have breathing difficulties. He pants after running upstairs (well, join the club!) and also when purring. You can hear the wheeze of him hunting from the next room – so he won’t need a collar to warn the birds. The rasping noise – which doesn’t really seem to be causing any discomfort – has earned him the name Darth Pudkin.

Fudge, it appears, is one of those cats who doesn’t mind getting wet. He’s fascinated by the dripping bathroom tap, trying to catch water drips before the run into the plughole. I thought upping the flow by turning the tap on to full would discourage him but it actually sent him into a chasing frenzy that led to him getting soaked and not minding.

These are the first cats I’ve ever known that will drink water you put down for them. We’re following the lead from the Centre and feeding them dry food, which they don’t seem to mind, but some mornings this week we’ve come down to find they’ve drunk an entire bowlful of tapwater, Fudge with drips in his mane.

Cat-owning has forced our hand on cleaning a bit as scattered litter pellets and vast quantities of shed fur now cloud the carpets within minutes of the last hoovering.

But the biggest mystery is the muddy pawprints in the bath. These cats aren’t allowed out til next week. Where are they getting the mud from?

Hmmm…

Which country should you REALLY be living in?RussiaA vast terrain filled with beautiful scenery and interesting characters. You don’t trust the world. You feel they are always up to no good. Which is why you’d make a great Russian.
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(Via Canadian Neil H)

Missing Eurovision

We missed last night’s Eurovision for a Lib Dem dinner in Chesterfield, but we left that soon after the speeches to get an early night, P having commitments at 9 this morning, bombed down the M1 and ended up at home as the last voting results were read out, followed by the winners’ second go at their song.

Well, the winner was certainly odd.  Someone’s been spending too much time listening to The Rasmus.

We didn’t turn the TV on for Eurovision, though — we turned it on to watch our Dr Who recording.  The cybermen were disappointing.  The mechanistic marching wasn’t really frightening, and they didn’t quite pull off the contrast between cybermen-as-mindless-robots and cybermen-as-enslaved-humans.  It’s fine for the Doctor to kill off a bunch of robots.  It’s a bit disturbing for him to remind the robots they used to be human before offing them.