Lunar eclipses, kevlar knickers and who am I?

by Suw on May 16, 2003

At some point last night, the moon turned a bloody red as the shadow of the earth fell across its face, plunging it eventually into the full darkness of eclipse. I woke at 4am, quite coincidentally after a strange dream about shopping in the rain, and thought I?d get up and have a look. I hauled my sorry arse out of bed and up the stairs and stuck my head out the front door, only to discover that it was raining in reality too.

That?s about typical for the UK. Any sort of heavenly display is traditionally greeted by clouds and pissing rain.

I had some discussions with my Dad about de-training Fflwff yesterday and have now formulated a new strategy.

Firstly, I want to tackle the carpet scratching. I do have a thing for misting plants which I have set to squirt. Previously when Fflwff scratched at the carpet it resulted in her getting a faceful of water. That worked to start with, but then she got canny and started scratching out of squirting range, but within earshot. She?s not stupid, that cat.

I now have a new tactic. Apparently cats don?t like pepper, so the idea is to sprinkle a little on the carpet where she?s been scratching and that will put her off. Cayenne pepper should do the trick, I'm told.

Unfortunately, I don?t like pepper either and refuse to have it in the house, so this means I?ll actually have to go out and buy some. And that I also won?t be going anywhere near the bits of carpet she scratches at. I guess the chances are that both of us will be afflicted for a while with watery eyes and an urge to sneeze, but at least I?ll be a good five feet further away from it than her.

Secondly, that claw-on-door thing. That?s kinda tougher to deal with because she?s outside when she does it, and the only way to get at her to try to get the ?don?t scratch? message across is to open the door, which is exactly what she wants you to do, thus reinforcing the behaviour every time.

The only think I can think of is to glue strips of the furry side of velcro horizontally across the door. She scratches, gets her claws caught up the velcro, and soon gives it up as a bad idea. I guess I?ll have to go out and buy some velcro too. Let?s hope that the landlord doesn?t mind having a temporarily fuzzy front door.

Finally, I have to stop asking ?How high?? every time Fflwff wants me to jump to attention. Now, that?s easier said than done when you?ve got the entire cosmos tattooed on your butt in tiny puncture wounds, but I?ve figured a way to deal with that. It may seem extreme, and they may be hard to come by, but they?ve got to be worth a try.

Kevlar knickers. That?s what I?m going for. She can try to sink her claws in my arse as much as she likes then, but if kevlar can stop bullets it can damn well stop cat claws.

I do worry about the chaffing though.

On a different note, thanks to Anton at LastManDancing for reciprocating my link and saying nice things about my blog. Sorry about the archives, Anton. I?ve republished them and hopefully you can get at them now, if you really feel the need, although I can?t promise that you?ll find anything interesting in them.

Now, I feel somewhat ingenuous writing synopses of who I am, but one of Anton?s comments was that he couldn?t find out much about me. I guess that?s the strange thing about blogs – it?s a window into someone?s life, but you only get to see a wee fraction of what?s going on. Possibly this particular blog is less of a window, and more of a letterbox. And at that, one of those letterboxes with the funny little brushes that make it almost impossible to push through anything as flimsy and insubstantial as a letter.

Anyway, here goes. My name (not initials) is Suw, I?m owned by cat called Fflwff and I work for myself running an e-learning start-up called Get Fluent which helps people learning Welsh and French. The kindly call it a micro-business, which really just means that I get to do everything. Except make the tea, but that?s only because I don?t drink the stuff.

I am perpetually giving up caffeine, and perpetually falling off the caffeine wagon. I prefer Stolichnaya but will drink any vodka that?s still liquid. (If it?s not liquid, then technically that?s eating.) Lately I?ve been on a Pimms tip though because that?s more of a summery drink and I like to fool myself that July is nearly here.

I live in an upside-down maisonette (bedrooms are downstairs), on the banks of the Kennet River in Berkshire. It sounds more salubrious than it is – the gasometers, alci neighbour and drug dealers up the road give the lie to that. My lounge slopes towards the river, but so far no flooding. Hurrah!

Concorde goes overhead every day, but they recently changed the timetable. It used to be at 11am but now it?s more like 9.30pm. I will miss Concorde when it?s gone. For years, catching a glimpse of it roaring through the skies like a demented swan with swept back wings was deemed lucky in my mind. I was in heaven when I moved to Hounslow. Well, for the few seconds every day that Concorde carved its way across the capital to Heathrow, at least. Most of the rest of my time in Hounslow was hell on toast, but that?s another blog.

I have $3.85 US, and my mobile won?t work when I get to San Francisco.

I don?t know if any of that was pertinent, but the floor is open to questions by comment or email.

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