Wednesday, October 29, 2008

The cats have never vomited into my coat pocket

Sometimes when I am on my hands and knees dealing with the kitty litter I reflect on the fact that I used to be a director of a merchant bank and have a staff of 120. Now I have two cats who are much more trouble than my staff ever were. Well that's not quite true - at least Muffin and Bill are not drug-crazed psychopaths masquerading as currency traders - and neither of them has ever vomited into my coat pocket.

I have told the cats that Cate will be back tomorrow and they are very excited. Muffin has borrowed my crayons and is making a Welcome Home poster and Bill is crocheting a new door mat.

I have booked a hotel in Salzburg for the weekend and we will head off on Friday evening. I would like it to be Friday afternoon but inevitably there will be a crisis in Ouagadougou or some such similar place and Cate will be held up. So we will leave late and hammer down the A-whatever in the thickening fog in a 60 tonne leviathan hoping that nothing substantial gets in our way.

We are supposed to be in a boutique hotel in the middle of Salzburg and the website makes it look very attractive indeed. However, I am not good at picking hotels so will be a bit restless until I actually see it.

The crushed look that Cate gives me when she sees the rooms I have chosen always depresses me for the weekend. She always makes it worse by saying 'never mind - we are only here for two nights and I can go to the Apotheke and get ear plugs and a sleep mask'.

However, they are not all bad. On the face of it the medieval nudist camp in Verdun was a very bad choice but the room was fantastic and we had a balcony the size of the Stade de France. The bed was a gigantic four poster that looked like one of those that came down in the middle of the night to suffocate the occupants - so to guard against this we slept with our heads hanging out the side.

1 comment:

  1. Speaking of the kitties nocturnal habits - how about the "operatic" intro before they bring up a hairball? Nothing like hearing a wailing that has me thinking that it's either my little boy with an ear infection, or that one of the Undead has come to pay a visit. Ayeyayeayeyayeyayey. Ayeyeyeye. And then the finale - Oi!oi!oi!oi!oi!oi!oi!oi! And then the sound we love the most - reverse peristalsis.

    Can't tell you how much fun THAT is - my resultant adrenalin rush is guaranteed to keep me awake, although I pretend to be asleep so my husband can "deal" with the situation. Pays him back for all of those times he was blissfully snoring while I was blearily nursing HIS son every 2 hours.