the aged saga

News reaches us of a postie being hospitalised by a cat. I know this cat, I'm sure of it. The postie in question was so startled by the cat in the letterbox that he stumbled backwards, breaking his back, or something. When I first discovered this feline menace I didn't realise it was a cat at first, my first thought on feeling the intense pain in my fingertips was 'dog'. The wounds were pinprick small (but exceedingly bloody) so I assumed 'small scratty dog', or malicious pins in the letterbox. The next day I investigate.

the splurge of spring

there's no time anymore. Christmas madness has seamlessly morphed into snow and ice sheer fucking terror. I fell at Christmas, not in snow or particularly thick ice, just a thin layer of frost on a smooth stone slab. But boy did I fall, a classic legs in the air whoops a daisy. One minute there, the next 'whoosh!', lying on the gutter under a scattering of mail...flushed and shaken. Buster Keaton would be proud.