Archive for the ‘DANGER’ Category

It has been brought to our attention (mine and Marmers’) that our Antipodean pal, Roy, has been asking of our whereabouts over on MadLamb’s blog (that’s what it’s called, but we all know it is Mistpurr Spock’s blog really) so I thought it would be nice to update him on our doings and goings and comings as it were.

Having moved here to our new Wee Hoose, Lintrollersquoy, over on the sunny Firth of Forth in February 2012, we are purrty much settled in, though not really chuffed with all the upheavals re knocking down of walls, blocking in of doors, hoicking out of chimney breasts, building of sheddage and as for the garret…don’t GET ME STARTED!!!

The one bit of jinery of which we both appurrove is of course what Spock would call the ‘flappery’ in the back door, but the wild disruption of New Kitchen was almost a pawprint too far for cats of a nervously genteel disposition I can tell you!

This and the following photographs will be old hat to our Facebook Friends, but this is just for Roy…











I rest from strenuous sundry choppings, pokings and polishing the hearthstone



a warming New Year image for downunder


an extremely tasteful repurresentation of moi


St Andrews Day at the Scottish Fisheries Museum, Anstruther


Posing elegantly in front of Wee Stove: we have since moved all the logs and briquettes away from the stove on the advice of Lynn who sold it to us.

What lucky we posted this photo on Facebook or there may have been an unintentional conflagration and a short-lived residency in Lintrollersquoy.

Happy New Year to our Chum in a Land Downunder!


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I just thought it would be nice to go for a bit of a scan around from the roof of Auld Shed: it was a lovely evening, I was feeling bouncy & sproingy and in need of a teensy-weensie frisson of excitement.

So up I jamp

Now what, I pondered?

Strangely, when I decided what I would do, fpu’s response was less than favourable!

It wasn’t long before I discovered why. Within a nanosecond of fpu and digicam popping in our back door, Mrs G (ID concealed to avoid litigation) shot out of hers like one of those weather-people (one whose outlook is always overcast and showery) and I careened through the Flapperchancity as if pursued by bears.

Should you want to see my own ‘Thoughts of KC’ just do that mousie-hovery thing over each image.

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At last! I have a brand new climbing frame to play on/in. What a time it’s taken! I purrsonally didn’t mind the concrete/bits-of-laminate floor, nor the tiny cooker (what’s a cooker to a cat, after all) nor the bare bits of new plaster, though I do draw the line at dust, and there was more than a little of that, but I really missed the High Ground for doing a bit of Lithe Leaping and Lolling on. Now that my cupboards are in and the table&chairs released from someplace called Storage, everything is just tickety-boo.

Best of all, I can escape Moitherin’ Marmers; his physique *chortle* doesn’t allow him to do the Triple L and he stays firmly rooted to the seablue vinyl.

Here I am responding in my usual helpful way to Fpu’s appearing with Digicam…







There’s a very very odd thing at the turn of the stairs…think it might’ve fallen out of Desperate Dan’s Peh. Just as long as it doesn’t tomber on moi.

Au revoir.

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I thought, there’s no-one around, I’m just here on my own, where would be a nice cosy place to have a wee snooze?

In the kitchen there’s this Thing, big and white, with a round door like  a hobbit hole; ever so inviting, full of the fpu’s claes and just the right size for a kitty to kurl up in.

So I did. Or at least, I did try to, but no sooner had I popped in, that the blasted Paparazza was there in force, camera in hand, making silly propitiatory noises like, “Ooooo who’s a cute kitty then. What a ickle-wickle cuddlekins it is,” and other utterances too nauseating to repeat.

However, the one exhortation which galvanised me into action was, “Don’t move. Stay right there.”

Naturally I immediately exited said Hobbit Hole with alacrity, leading to the following dog’s abuse, “I said…$*%T!!! You goddam fecking hairy basturt you!!!”


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I’m really not sure why this picture is so big. As you can see, it is quite a large cucumber anyway. So far fpu has had it in salads, stirfry and soon, curry. Then purrobably salad again…

There’s only so much cucumber one person can eat, without repeating herself *smirk* However, Marmers and I are nothing if not gentlemen, so we desist from comment.

When her-two-doors-up presented it, she commented thet fpu wouldn’t be able to get her hand round it – laughter ensued. Marmers and I are still awaiting enlightenment.

We are not amused…

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In a moment of Extreme Courage, fpu had a Good Rummage in the garage today and found the Black&Decker drill. After two years in bubblewrap, it was time to dust down Pig-Killing Club and mount it on the wall in CookieCutter Cott.

Being extremely right-handed, she surmised that PKC’s’s handle would hang to the right, so, choosing her spot carefully, she drilled two holes, inserted two plasterboard rawlplugs and screwed its bracket into place.

Lookin’ good! Feelin’ chuffed! (Not me – I was sitting in the sun thinking about stuff and having a wee streeetch.)

However, when fpu tried placing the club on the bracket, it rolled alarmingly and threatened to fall off. What could be wrong?

Oh. It was meant to sit the other way round… like this. Well, I just kept my furry head down. As you can imagine, twas l’air bleu and no misteak. And if I had a wee chortle© I kept it to myself. No point antagonising the Food Blob after all.

So, these plugs got bashed farther into the plasterboard (bashed – it’s a techie term, youse widnae unnerstaun, ken) and…

…plastered over with the help of Polly Filla.

Then the whole clamjamfrey was gone through again only a lot quicker this time…

…and Vanuatu Pig-Killing Club sits neatly on the wall near my favourite Poäng (but not too near).

What with that and yesterday’s Great Upheaval, when fpu exchanged every bit of furniture (and contents of two wardrobes) between Front Bedroom and Back, necessitating dismantling her bed and wrestling purrsonfully with recalcitrant sofabed, which unravelled itself at every turn, it’s been an excitin’ couple of days.

Time for a zizzzz…

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“Who killed Cock Robin?” “I,” said the Marmers,

“With my razorsharp claws, I killed him stone dead”

“Who saw you do it?” “I,” said FC,

“With my luminous ee, I saw Robin dee.”

“Who’ll be the Chief Mourner?” “Not us,” said the twain,

“If we got half a chance, we’d do it again!”

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