The hot topic that has caused a stir in the Village tonight is Big Lou's visit to the Vets. As his annual check-up and jab loomed in Big Lou's PawPilot he became increasingly glum. The dulling of his spirits had not been helped by Rez, amongst others, who had predicted a diet would be called for. Rez had even taken time to explain that "fat cats" must have their temperature taken in order for their correct weight to be calculated . As you can imagine, all cats dread their temperature being taken.
So, we squeezed Big Lou into his travel box and set off early for what turned out to be a smooth passage down the dreaded Ladder Hill. We have always preferred the first appointment of the evening as it avoids having to spend time in close proximity to other waiting animals and motley owners. During Rez's last visit a vile yappy type dog did a little pooh when he was called into surgery. Apparently he always did this when he got excited. Thankfully the huge lady who accompanied him came to the rescue with a tissue and an empty pocket. Whilst waiting we decided to take the "Bull-by-the Horns" and place Big Lou, in his travel box, onto the scales. With some trepidation we patiently waited for the LCD numbers to stabilise.
They did. At 6.7kg.
Things were looking grim.
Finally a very young and not unpleasant "new" vet came out and called for "Lewis". After several seconds Big Lou and myself, almost simultaneously, twigged that the inexperienced young vet had made a clumsy error with names and was in fact calling for Louis. We let it slide, on this occasion, and went in. Big Lou was placed on the table and dragged from his retreat, leaving a trail of sweaty paw marks across the shiny table. After the usual prodding and poking I broached the subject of size/weight, noticing out of the corner of my eye a distinct black look coming from Big Lou. The vet listened, prodded some more and then went as far as some pinching, before taking Big Lou's travel box, minus occupant, out to be weighed. She returned and performed a slick piece of mental arithmetic and pronounced Big Lou's actual weight to be 5kg.
We held our breath.
She then went on to say that for the size of his head she did not think that Big Lou was overweight.
If Big Lou had been blessed with lips I feel sure that at that point he would have smiled. Instead he allowed himself to be injected and forced back into his travel box for the journey back to the bosom of his family in Cuddesdon.
Upon arriving back at home he mooched about a bit to show his disdain of the whole event. However, when Rez strolled in from an evening saunter, flighty as usual, he went up to her and whispered "I told you I was big boned".
Monday, 12 March 2007
Friday, 9 March 2007
Great Tits
Exactly how many peanuts does a Great Tit need before they say to themselves "That's me done". It would appear that number is quite high. I have recently placed 2 bird feeders in a tree in the garden to augment the lardy seedball that is attached to the fence post at the end of the garden. 1 feeder contains peanuts of the "Not for Human Consumption" type and the other a selection of mixed seeds.
Now, in addition to the question regarding Tit satisfaction there are several other points that have come to light:
Now, in addition to the question regarding Tit satisfaction there are several other points that have come to light:
- How do the birds know what a bird feeder is?
- How do they know that if you balance your frail frame on the plastic rail and poke your tiny little head through the hole at the bottom you will be rewarded with either a peanut or a seed?
- Why is it only Great Tits that have found this source of food?
The peanuts last about 2 days before they need replenishing. When I take the feeder down from the tree the birds sit in another tree wait for me to finish filling the plastic tube and the minute I have reached the patio they are tucking in to the fresh supply. I sometimes suspect they are laughing at me.
Changes Afoot
Shocking news from Cuddesdon. It would appear that attempts are being made to sell "The Cottage". I arrived home one evening to find some grubby little van driving man erecting a "For Sale" sign in my garden. My initial thoughts were that of homelessness, cats and drag queens being fostered out to Oakley and separation from our fascinating neighbours.
I ran to the phone and called the local blood-sucking property agents, to be told by whom I can only imagine as a 19 year old, pimply, greasy haired office junior that it was in fact "The Cottage" that was being sold and was I interested in a viewing. At that point I put the phone down, obviously.
On a brighter note Big Lou is over-joyed that Beelzebub and Damian, the current occupants, will be leaving. The vile Tabby pair have caused nothing but trouble since their arrival. Forcing their way through the now defunct passage to wreak havoc with the gorgeous Rez and the somewhat simpler and more cowardly Big Lou. In spite of being the size of a small Bulldog, Big Lou remains scarred of well almost everything, including the small Tabby pair from "The Cottage" and "The Strange Millie Type Cat who passes through occasionally. (NB. "The Strange Millie Type Cat" is so strange that in the fullness of time an entire post will be devoted to her and her work).
A few days after the erection, The Village Oracle positively jogged down the hill to speak to me as I returned from an early morning spat at the newly re-fitted Asda. (They can now cram more chav's down 1 aisle than any other major retailer). Hot on The Village Oracle's heels was Scottish Jill bursting with inquisitive excitement. In unison they pressed me for information. Jill even tried trading Village gossip by telling me that she had sold her house to a friend who would be renting it out once they leave in November. In the end I could hold back no longer and I squealed like a stuck pig that it was "The Cottage" that was being sold. Both left, triumphant that they had gleaned facts from an ill-prepared poof.
It was at that point that the cruel reality dawned on me.
Dom & Michelle - Gone
T & Ross - Gone
Jill & Clan - Gone
Cat Killer - Gone
And now to top it all BC & Anni - Gone
Life in Cuddesdon will never be the same.......................................................................
I ran to the phone and called the local blood-sucking property agents, to be told by whom I can only imagine as a 19 year old, pimply, greasy haired office junior that it was in fact "The Cottage" that was being sold and was I interested in a viewing. At that point I put the phone down, obviously.
On a brighter note Big Lou is over-joyed that Beelzebub and Damian, the current occupants, will be leaving. The vile Tabby pair have caused nothing but trouble since their arrival. Forcing their way through the now defunct passage to wreak havoc with the gorgeous Rez and the somewhat simpler and more cowardly Big Lou. In spite of being the size of a small Bulldog, Big Lou remains scarred of well almost everything, including the small Tabby pair from "The Cottage" and "The Strange Millie Type Cat who passes through occasionally. (NB. "The Strange Millie Type Cat" is so strange that in the fullness of time an entire post will be devoted to her and her work).
A few days after the erection, The Village Oracle positively jogged down the hill to speak to me as I returned from an early morning spat at the newly re-fitted Asda. (They can now cram more chav's down 1 aisle than any other major retailer). Hot on The Village Oracle's heels was Scottish Jill bursting with inquisitive excitement. In unison they pressed me for information. Jill even tried trading Village gossip by telling me that she had sold her house to a friend who would be renting it out once they leave in November. In the end I could hold back no longer and I squealed like a stuck pig that it was "The Cottage" that was being sold. Both left, triumphant that they had gleaned facts from an ill-prepared poof.
It was at that point that the cruel reality dawned on me.
Dom & Michelle - Gone
T & Ross - Gone
Jill & Clan - Gone
Cat Killer - Gone
And now to top it all BC & Anni - Gone
Life in Cuddesdon will never be the same.......................................................................
The Return of the View
It has been almost 3 months since the last View from the Village. Much has happened, much has not happened. I was going to create an elaborate reason for not posting in such a long time. However, I am concerned that cracks would soon appear in the fabric of the story and give it away as fiction. So, I shall stick to the truth: I couldn't be arsed.
That's a slight exaggeration I think I developed a mild case of Bloggerphobia like my friend Dom. He sees Blogging as a complete waste of Internet bandwidth and much prefers to spend his surfing time on the Oxford Untied website. (I understand they were once a famous football team).
So here goes another attempt.
That's a slight exaggeration I think I developed a mild case of Bloggerphobia like my friend Dom. He sees Blogging as a complete waste of Internet bandwidth and much prefers to spend his surfing time on the Oxford Untied website. (I understand they were once a famous football team).
So here goes another attempt.
Thursday, 14 December 2006
Fillipa's Bush
Fillipa returned home last night with a lush specimen of a pine all bound in plastic netting.
Big Lou became extremely disturbed by events as they unfolded, whilst Rez watched unmoved from the back of the chair. The more observant would have seen her tiny little mouth whispering the words "left a-bit", "right a-bit", "to me", "back a-bit" and then chuckling under her breath. What she terms irony many would see as merely sarcasm, which as everyone knows is the recourse of a weak mind. Still it kept her amused.
Big Lou was torn between skulking back and forth indignantly or making a circuitous approach to the kitchen and Rez's left-over supper. Unsurprisingly his stomach won the day.
The theme this year appears to be un-coloured. A somewhat subtle and it has to be said tasteful approach. It remains unclear whether we are seeing the finished article or just a work-in-progress. Even Rez, in a rare moment of tact, has refrained from asking.
Big Lou became extremely disturbed by events as they unfolded, whilst Rez watched unmoved from the back of the chair. The more observant would have seen her tiny little mouth whispering the words "left a-bit", "right a-bit", "to me", "back a-bit" and then chuckling under her breath. What she terms irony many would see as merely sarcasm, which as everyone knows is the recourse of a weak mind. Still it kept her amused.
Big Lou was torn between skulking back and forth indignantly or making a circuitous approach to the kitchen and Rez's left-over supper. Unsurprisingly his stomach won the day.
The theme this year appears to be un-coloured. A somewhat subtle and it has to be said tasteful approach. It remains unclear whether we are seeing the finished article or just a work-in-progress. Even Rez, in a rare moment of tact, has refrained from asking.
Sunday, 10 December 2006
Think about What
On a random search of the www a startling discovery has been made that has sent shock waves through the Village and as far as Oakley and Northampton. It transpires that the "freaks" are in fact not freaks at all. They are lose collection of intellectuals/ex-academics plus assorted volunteers who publish countless volumes of thoughts and comments to the expecting World.
The thoughts published are so radical that us mere mortals struggle to comprehend a fraction of the material. Suffice to say it is at the extremes of human understanding and can only be viewed for short periods. Any extended exposure to the material risks sanity and worse.
Poor Fillipa keeps asking "So what do the intellectuals do exactly, think?".
This has recently progressed to "What do the intellectuals do for Christmas, more thinking I presume".
Who can say.
The thoughts published are so radical that us mere mortals struggle to comprehend a fraction of the material. Suffice to say it is at the extremes of human understanding and can only be viewed for short periods. Any extended exposure to the material risks sanity and worse.
Poor Fillipa keeps asking "So what do the intellectuals do exactly, think?".
This has recently progressed to "What do the intellectuals do for Christmas, more thinking I presume".
Who can say.
Wednesday, 6 December 2006
Noisy Cottages
For the second night this week The Cottage has decided to sound its alarm for no apparent reason. The wailing lasts for around five and a half hours and can be heard in Aylesbury. The invisible occupants seem oblivious to the racket and remain unseen. Rather spookily The Cottage is adorned by a red flashing strobe light, the significance and purpose of which is open to speculation and much debate. Perhaps, it has been mooted, the building itself is pining for its previous occupants especially BC and Straight Pilot Dan, amongst others.
On a brighter note the hideous and not to mention cheap "Not To Let" sign at the end of the path has disappeared. Whether it was removed by its owners, blown away in the high winds or stolen is unknown at this time.
On a brighter note the hideous and not to mention cheap "Not To Let" sign at the end of the path has disappeared. Whether it was removed by its owners, blown away in the high winds or stolen is unknown at this time.
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