Albert The Cat's Blog Entry

Yawn!
I'm writing this as I wait for food
I'm always waiting to be fed.....bastards!
The effin' dogs always come first!, especally that bastard pug ugly bulldog!
I don't know why I friggin bother staying!

If Dogs Wrote Blogs

one blog that I follow discussed Cats writing blogs...I just wondered what a blog could read like if Winnie penned it?
So here goes ......

Fat daddy woke me up at an ungodly hour this morning to go out for a pee.

I keep glaring at him every day but he doesnt get the message

I CAN SLEEP 14 HOURS WITHOUT NEEDING A PISS! 

The other dogs bounce around like bloody lunatics, I just can't wait to get back to bed.

Grumpy Dad was already making his morning food when we got back in , so we left him quick sticks and climbed into bed with fat dad. 

Fat dad is like me, he hates mornings!

It's late in the day when fat dad calls me. I pretend to be asleep, but he knows me too well and so I get up and fart. He farts too and often blames me. 

Today I hear him talking to someone.

THERE IS WORKMEN IN THE HOUSE!!!!!

I run down stairs and get all unnecessary as two gorgeous men in OVERALLS are in the garden.

They have come just to see me! 

I kiss them both on the lips! Then have to have an immediate botty rub on the garden steps

Fat dad shakes his head!  He hates me botty rubbing

Funny, Grumpy Dad always laughs when I rub my botty on his slippers! 

I love his slippers! 

We then go for a walk around the village. George gets on my tits as he is too slow. William keeps walking into things and Mary gets excited if she sees a bleeding pigeon  flying past. 

I'm surrounded by idiots!

I wish I could walk with Albert, he has a few brain cells about him and he loves me.

Fat Dad keeps stopping to talking to people. 

It's so boring.

He thinks he's popular!

Finally we get home and IT's FOOD TIME!" 

Thank god! 

A tin of horse with bacon flavoured biscuits! Bloody lovely

I rub my botty on the back door for a bit as William has a poo against the fridge

He's getting old and is such a let down! 

Anyhow Fat dad, gets all hot and sweaty and looks very ill as he plays with a lot of stones in the garden, so I have a small nap in the sun. 

It's been a busy day all told.

A Ton Of Gravel

Going Gently is going all Homes & Gardens today.
Who says I can't do a " lifestyle blog"?
I've just shifted a ton of soddin gravel ! A huge bag of which was unloaded by small grabber thing on the back of a lorry early this morning. The lorry got stuck for a while in the lane blocking the school rat run traffic which was fun and the two workmen were delayed for several minutes longer by Winnie's need for on-the-lip kisses. Fair dos both obliged her with a snog and she is now lying in a sunny spot in the garden , basking in the afterglow.
I was on my last legs, filling a bucket with the last few ounces of gravel when a neighbour skipped past commenting " That looks like a big job for you " 
I noted the " for you"bit and shot back a quick " fuck off!" Then promptly broke wind loudly as I heaved the load onto the new path!
The results as you will agree are impressive! ( the paths not the fart)

This afternoon I have filled the cottage with flowers from the garden
I think I'm frigging Jane Asher

The Women Of Trelawnyd comment on the Election

God Help Us

I have voted
I took the dogs with me and William peed on the leg of the voting booth
Perhaps he put it better than I ever could.

Firelight

The cottage is lit by firelight and it's raining heavily outside.
I am listening to radio 4 watching Mary Cuddling up to Winnie in the darkness
The Prof is away

Albert is playing with my toes

Pebble-dash

I have been painting the render on the outside of the cottage for much of the day.
It's an odious job.
Twice ramblers have stopped for eggs ( remembering I sold them from previous hikes) and twice they have been somewhat startled by the sight of a masturbating bulldog rubbing her fanny on the garden steps when they leaned over the lane wall.
I'm so used to it, I don't bother to even acknowledge her behaviour any more.
" Oh dear" one woman exclaimed when she spied Winnie whipping herself into an absolute frenzy this time against the outhouse wall " a woman has needs, don't you baby?! " she cooed. Her husband was more practical and certainly nonplussed
" She'll have all your pebble-dash  off with an arse that size " he warned 

A Jar By The Door

I spoke to someone recently who spent their birthday alone.
Without a hint of self pity they mentioned that they had received just one Facebook Birthday greeting and shared that their birthday treat to themselves was a coffee in a city cafe where the waiter was kind.
Loneliness seemed to seep out of them like sweat

I'm fifty five years old and I have never really experienced loneliness. I am lucky...so very lucky
Today, in the churchyard a man sat quietly on a bench in the blustery weather. He was visiting the grave of his wife. I waved at him as I fed the bachelors and he waved back.
He once told me that loneliness was " worse than cancer". 
His wife died of cancer.

Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, picks up the rice
In the church where a wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Waits at the window, wearing the face
That she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Father McKenzie, writing the words
Of a sermon that no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working, darning his socks
In the night when there's nobody there
What does he care

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?

Ah look at all the lonely people
Ah look at all the lonely people

Eleanor Rigby, died in the church
And was buried along with her name
Nobody came
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt
From his hands as he walks from the grave
No one was saved

All the lonely people
Where do they all come from?
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong?