mostly david ephgrave

I said goodbye to my beautiful cat Millie yesterday, which was very painful. My wife and I took her in after her original owner died nine years ago and she was the perfect addition to the household. She fitted in perfectly with our routines and enriched our lives with her company. We were worried at first that she might not be happy to be an indoor cat as we weren’t entirely sure if she had been allowed out previously, but she never asked once; we were also concerned she’d discover the two budgies we kept in the one room she wasn’t allowed into but she never seemed to catch on to it, which saved us from any gruesome Hannibal Lector-like moments. I know it’s still early days, but I’ve yet to process the fact she’s gone. I was out for most of the day, but more than once this evening it’s slipped my mind briefly. I keep expecting to see her then catching myself and remembering; to give her a cuddle and a fuss while you did what you were doing was ...

As far as evenings go, yesterday was shit. It started with me cancelling a trip to Prince Charles Cinema to watch my favourite, much referenced sci-fi film 'Star Trek II: The Wrath of (Chaka) Khan', as my labyrinithis had suddenly kicked in, making me feel like I was going to fall to the floor. I’m surprised the vertigo-like condition I regularly suffer from hasn't reared its ugly head sooner, what with it being aggravated by stress, tiredness and feeling generally run-down (all clear byproducts of an EdFringe show). For whatever reason, the Gods of Balance decided yesterday was the day: perhaps they’re not fans of Ricardo Montalban. So it was that, instead of catching the train to London, I went to my sister-in-law’s flat to dog-sit with my wife for a friend; there’s a sentence to savour. This led to a few hours of watching Strictly, tweeting along to it over a couple of cups of tea and the odd stolen biscuit; this was the calm...