Thursday, 26 September 2013
All of these Annual Unfortunates' Outings and Picnics - and the soothsayers' slobbering excitement about them - have been stimulating within this Cat a desire to sleep excessively these days.
Recently I had an odd dream in which I found myself confronted by some strange chimera - a kind of hybrid between a human being and a politico. This bizarre creature appeared to have an insatiable appetite for Holy Groats, taxation and control - not to mention fine cuisine. Through this encounter in my reverie, I was also able to discern that this creature uttered words which seemed to make some kind of cogent sense, but on closer examination were nothing more than skilfully crafted rhubarb and biscuit.
The encounter with this odd creature was hardly a pleasant one, and to be perfectly frank, I felt the urge to regurgitate my previous meal.
However, I woke up - which spared me the unpleasant emetic effect of my soporific ordeal. And then I found out that I hadn't been dreaming after all.
I hope that in my next nap I have more pleasurable visions of mice with golden wings. That's more to my liking...
Tuesday, 17 September 2013
It's been such a long time since I last posted; my master Caedmon has been away to visit his friends Cuthbert and Aidan, and I suspect he's also paid his mate Bede a visit as well. This has left me holding the fort while he's been away; there's been a glut of mice and other verminous rodents of late - to swell the numbers which already infest the Northumbrian Witangemot - so I've been very busy!
While the non-existent Liberationists hold their mythical Annual Unfortunates' Outing and Picnic, another piece of news has reached this Cat's ears through the excitable gibberings of the soothsayers. It would appear (if there's a vestige of truth in what they tell us) that there's a spectacular mission to restore a wreck from the depths of the briny. The disaster happened in the recent past, when an enormous and ungainly vessel came into collision with rocks in shallow waters and capsized, resulting in enormous distress, dismay, desolation, damage and biscuit.
The bloated carcass has been visible for miles around to those onlookers interested enough to admire such gruesome sights, and a considerable tourist trade has been built around around the spectacle. Which is nice.
However, there are those who sit in exalted places who dislike such enterprise; following their deliberations behind closed doors, a decision has been made to restore the wretched wreck to some measure of uprightness so that the unfortunate hulk can be towed to a nearby port, where legions of happy workmen can carry out repairs and restore the ruin to its pristine glory.
When they've finished the restoration work on the Emperor Jose Borracho, what use are they going to put him to? If he sank once, he'll sink again - perhaps in deeper waters next time...