Albert dragged in another flapping hysterical young sparrow this morning, which escaped from his clutches in the kitchen as I was feeding the stock outside. When I eventually returned soaked to the skin, a scene of carnage lay before me. The bird had managed to wedge itself in a bloody heap behind the toaster, and in his effort to retrieve it, Albert had kicked an enamel pan, a whole array of utensils and my favourite American coffee cup onto the floor!I could have cried.....not because of the mess......gawd having 83 animals,means that mess is a way of life, no, it was the potential loss of a simple ceramic mug that upset me the most.
My reaction beggared the question of Why on earth do people have such close relationships with inanimate objects?
There is no real reason for it, is there? but I can honestly say that I love my battered old coffee cup, with its typically American rounded, slightly art deco edges and chunky comfortable handle.
I "hate" drinking coffee from any other mug ( it doesn't taste the same either) and I have lovingly looked after my mug since "our eyes met" on the shelf in the tourist shop on the top of the Rockefeller Centre.
I know there is more important things going on in the world. But in my own little goldfish bowl here in Wales, my mug , does have a special place in my affection......
Anyhow the story does have a happy ending.....with its robust chunky make up, my mug survived its fall and now is steaming away on the kitchen table with its usual cargo of coffee.
Message to self.
Am I odd...or do I really need to get out more......










