Cats and fragile things

Our little pussy cat has been living here for two years now. I’ve never lived with one before, but I think we lucked out with her and her pointy ears. She’s tiny. She’ll always be tiny. She expresses her rage through the medium of poo and wee which is occasionally horrible. But mostly it just means we try to keep her happy, and she’s usually pretty chilled these days.

There are some things I’ve received in my understanding of cats that don’t tally with her behaviour. First of all, right now I’m sorting all this Porcelain and glass and stoneware… Every surface in the house has got something breakable right by the edge of it, and something else breakable next to that breakable thing, almost deliberately lined up in some macabre game of dominos.


With one swipe of her paw Pickle could bring my whole porcelain empire to a crashing end. But instead she just … ghosts around everything. Mel pointed out that she’s got neck muscles like a bull now, so she would be more than capable of havoc. But so far, nothing. No lots cancelled because of BAD CAT BAD CAT BAD BAD BAD. She is just instinctively careful. It’s uncanny.

Those neck muscles have come from her daily workout which is to jump on my lap and try to close my laptop / knock my phone out of my hand / make me drop my book. In that sense she’s true cat. “Me me me not the thing look the thing is mine now it smells of me me droppit me me”. But she doesn’t realise that it usually goes both ways, as whilst it’s still cold I get a free hot water bottle while I’m writing, and warm company while I sleep which is really all people are after when they go on, right?

Nice audition today for some Germans and then just a relaxed afternoon finding out what I can find out about the stuff that I still have to get out out out out out of my house. Brian is off to Namibia soon, as one does, so I’m going to have a short period of time to explode the contents of all the boxes into the living room. Late next week would be a great time to have someone that knows stuff about Porcelain to come round my flat and know stuff about porcelain at me. I also need someone to digitise some celluoid, although I’m working on an angle or two there. This Porcelain period must pass soon, and once it is done I’ll be an amateur expert and able to rinse car boot sales, while turning my weirdly retentive brain to silver hallmarks. Might as well fill it with something while I’m waiting to fill it with more lines. Although there are four jobs pending at the moment, some from a while ago which is always a good sign. I trust the universe to throw me a bone before long, which puts even more pressure on me to put an end to The Antiques Roadshow – Al’s Flat episode, hosted by Pickle. In this week’s good news, I fully emptied the storage. In this week’s bad news, it’s because I threw it all in the van, which goes back to York soon.

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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