Quicunque

I hope neither my beloved partner or a certain Yorkshire mobile car valeting service will ever read my blog, because I am about to incriminate myself here.

Around midday I took a break from my computer and went for a walk, since it seems a shame not to enjoy a rare warm, sunny day after the past several non-summers. Coming back down the steep hill into the village on the home stretch, I encountered a mobile valeting service man cleaning a car by the roadside. We exchanged cheery salutations, as one does, and I guess I must have been looking hot (not like that! Well sheesh, have it your own way then... *grin*) because he offered me a drink from his water bottle.

We passed a few pleasantries about the weather, and I made suitable manly and knowledgeable comments about the car he was cleaning ("It's a nice colour, isn't it?") but I'm afraid for once, my attention wasn't distracted by shiny things.

He was maybe a few inches shorter than me, and I'm on the midget side of tall. Close-shaved hair, powerfully built but not overly-bulging, strong shoulders and back displayed to full advantage in a muscle tee as he twisted water out of his shammy leather. Veritably, a pocket Vin Diesel! - and anyone who knows me knows that's like nectar to a hungry bee. Lord save me from such temptation! My eyes must have been as round as the car's hub-caps.

I bet he was straight as a flagpole (not one flying the rainbow flag, either). I keep telling myself that. But I wonder if I can justify getting my modest, battered, old Ford valeted - yes of course I made a note of the company's name! *grins* You never know when you might need a full servicing....

Meet the real star of Cannes: Midge the one-eyed cat from Yorkshire with a passion for sprinting

Amidst all the daily news of fraudulent and corrupt politicians, recession and redundancies, the collapse of the global economy and a swine flu pandemic, it's so warming to come across a story like that above. A Yorkshire parish councillor named Martin Humphreys who races his one-eyed rescue cat Midge back from the shop each day, has made a short children's film featuring himself and Midge competing in one of their races. Made on a budget of just £1,000, The Great Race will be debuting before judges in the Short Film Corner at the Cannes Film Festival.

Mr Humphreys is reported to be hoping The Great Race will be taken up by a movie company: "I truly believe this could be one of the greatest children's films of all time," he says.

Well, as one ex-runner to another, I for one have no intention of even trying to resist Midge's charm! Go cat!

There's another video here too from the BBC

I can't help being a sucker for time-wasting exercises like this one....

1. Go to the Wikipedia home page and click random article. That is your band's name.
2. Click random article again; that is your album name.
3. Click random article 15 more times; those are the tracks on your album.

Band: ¿Dónde Está La Luz?

Album: Caustic Pencil

Track list:

1. Étienne Marie Antoine Champion de Nansouty
2. Fade to Grey
3. Walsdorf
4. Robin Williams
5. USCGC Ossipee (WPR-50)
6. Wiardi Beckman Stichting
7. Topographical poetry
8. The Quotations
9. Inigo Campioni
10. Canton of Houdain
11. Bill Perkins (Australian rules footballer)
12. Half a Crown
13. Ksawerów
14. Dorsal nerve of clitoris
15. Limonese Authentic Party

Thank you for calling.
To continue in jargon, press 1.
Jos haluat jatkaa suomeksi, ole hyva ja paina 2.

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Touch the condensation on the interior of the unit with your finger, then smell it.
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Unplug your modem, power down your computer, and mix yourself a stiff drink.
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While holding down the control and option keys, crouch on the floor, making chugging and whistling sounds.
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Continue in this manner for five minutes.
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Thank you for calling. Goodbye.

[I don't recall where this originated, but rediscovered it on my hard drive just now and it made me laugh all over again. A bitter kind of laugh, you understand, since I spent almost an hour this morning stuck in a similar waking nightmare trying to speak to my insurance company.]

Every yokel knows that if cows are lying down, rain is on its way. If they're standing with their backs to the wind, expect a storm. If they're racing round and round with their tails up, batten down for an earthquake. But when they're all lying down at the far end of the field under the trees, dreamily chewing the cud and staring at nothing, that means -- what? That they're not going to chase Jerry down and trample him, right?

Nope. It just means they're biding their time.

Lulled into a false sense of security, their intended victim cautiously hops over the gate and keeping a wary eye open for stray calves (you do NOT want a 600kg horned bulldozer thinking you're molesting its baby, trust me on that) nonchalantly heads off towards the opposite side of the field, manfully avoiding eye contact with the one or two cows that have stopped chewing and have started to look vaguely interested at this break in their routine.

"Don't run," my partner always tells me. "Longhorns are docile, but they'll follow you if you run. Just ignore them and keep walking."

Me, I thought it was supposed to be predators that have chase responses, not herbivorous bovines. However. I'm not arguing with him because in my experience he's right. Run and they run with you. Just call me Runs with Cows.

People who know me and my secret fear know where I'm going with this. I get half way across the bloody field and my bootlace mysteriously unties itself and I have the dilemma off keeping going and tripping face-down in a fresh cow-pat or stopping to re-tie and letting the cows that are now lumbering to their feet get me. Honestly, do I LOOK like a threat to their babies? Maybe they smell my fear. They break into a trot. My nerve holds until I feel the first hot, wet snuff on the back on my neck, but fortunately by then safety is within reach --- I nimbly vault the gate into the next field --- to find another two dozen or more English Longhorns all staring at me in round-eyed wonder.....

Incidentally, calves are kinda cute, with those long, long eyelashes like drag queens. It's just their bad-ass mamas that put the wind up me.

Most amused reading everyone's descriptions of their felines' sleeping habits too *grins* I share my bed with not only another human but no less than 6 cats, all of whom consider the bed itself to be their personal space, and the human occupants as their hot-water bottles. Each cat has its favoured sleeping place, either under or on top of the quilt, but there's often a lot of jostling for position as each wants to lie (or at least lean) on a human, and the occasional hissing fight will break out. Fortunately, I can sleep through just about anything, but getting up in the night usually involves a major upheaval, and an escort of several curious cats. The preference for sleeping ON humans isn't restricted to the bed but the sofa too, so if I watch a film or settle down to read, most of the cats will pack down around and on me.

The cats also enjoy the occasions when I practise a bit of bellydancing at home, and though I wouldn't go so far as to claim they 'danced' with me, they do consider it a wonderful opportunity to twine round my ankles and see if they can tip me over for fun. They also like my doumbek and have been known to try and nestle inside it while I'm playing... (the drum is hollow).

The only thing I will bless my cats for, is that they understand the concept of weekend lie-ins! So no wet paws/nose in the face at breakfast time - they like a sleep-in too *grin*