muninnhuginn: (Default)
It's the annual pilgrimage to the vee ee tee for the usual round of inspections, injections, et al. It's a real car load: the 20-year old cat, the two thirteen-year old cats, two adults to cart them in and out. And with cats that old it's always a bit of a worry, if you've seen their weight dip or anything else of concern.
I'm not sure which cat is Sick, which Sicker, tho' I'm pretty certain I know which is Sickest.
It went like this.
First up was Ozzie, a tad pudgy, but as far as we were concerned the least of our worries. But, looking in his eyes, there's distinct signs of high blood pressure, wiggly red veins very visible on the third eyelid, but the vet can't tell how bad as he can't see the back of Ozzie's eyes 'cos of the sclerotic lenses. So, we need to take him back in for a longer visit so he can be nice and calm when they check his blood pressure.
Pills will help with the blood pressure. I guess we could cope with a blind cat, as long as he can cope with it. I think he may be officially "Sicker".
Second up was Socks, who tried to escape over various bits of consultation room, because, Socks. We've always had concerns about him, as he came to us with a slight heart murmur. Now not so slight, and with the distinct possibility of a thrombosis building up in his heart. If that's the case, the recommendation is euthanasia. The alternative is allowing the cat to run the risk of a sudden and very painful death when things go pear shaped. We're booking an appointment with a cardiologist to see what's what.
Oh, and he's lost quite a lot of weight, more than is probably good for him, and he's got bad tartar on his teeth.
He's most definitely "Sickest".
Last up was Little, over 20, down to 2.54 kg, with a slightly elevated heart rate, and possibly a dodgy thyroid, or maybe diabetes. She needs to go back for blood tests.
Pills again might be the answer.
Little might only be "Sick" compared to the other two.
You wouldn't think there was much wrong with any of them, especially if you'd seen the way they nommed their extra breakfast when we got them home again.
Oddly, just yesterday, I found the poem I'd written about Big (an hommage to Christopher Smart) when he died. I don't want to be penning similar odes to any of the current trio, although I've been prepared to do so for Little for quite some time. (I have a nasty moment at least once a week, when I find her so deeply asleep that her breathing's barely visible, and she's almost impossible to rouse.)
The one lovely thing was we saw the vet who patched Little up after the car ran over the house. Even if he had to give not very good to really bad news, we could at least confirm that nearly a decade on Little's leg, tiny pins in the phalanges and all, is still absolutely fine.
And behind me on the futon right now is a scene of much washing, both boy cats cleaning their undercarriages with great care and attention. Little is probably asleep by the stove.
Cake baking, I think, is in order. It won't really soften the blow when I have to tell Looby Loo all this. It's spring, we have an egg glut, and comfort food is comfort food.


Sep. 5th, 2014 10:51 am
muninnhuginn: (alien kitty)
(For loyal readers, no, not that one. That's coming up for nine years ago.)

A tractor has crumpled most of the side of our car. It would have been more exciting and bizarre if it had been one of the huge cruisers on the back of lorries, but they always travel along the other side of the dual carriageway (regardless of direction of travel) because there's more space and less street furniture and trees.

No, it was merely a huge tractor. With a driver who thought the bus lane looked wider than it was.

I'm assuming the car (which was second-hand (and only a Skoda) when we got it with the insurance from the crash) is a financial write off. I await the M's instructions as to what to do next. He is, inevitably, elsewhere.

I could go and take pictures.

(No cats were injured in the proceedings.)
muninnhuginn: (Default)
Well, since it happened. Ought to have baked a cake--but concentration and energy got mislaid. Small reward....


Jul. 21st, 2006 05:39 pm
muninnhuginn: (Default)
Wednesday, during the hottest part of the day, I heard through the closed curtains (haven't opened them since Sunday) the sound of pneumatic drillery. Out in the middle of the road was one man, his van, and replacements for the barriers demolished during the crash.

Thursday, end of term. Still no rain, and potatoes to plant.

Friday, John Harle on Radio 3 playing Syrinx like it was written for the sax.


Feb. 8th, 2006 05:16 pm
muninnhuginn: (romanza)

Not sure the object--made from a kit from the front cover of an embroidery magazine--merited the effort of removing the backing, hand washing the embroidered front, adding new backing and stuffing (proper stuffing this time, not lumpy old tights!). Still, somehow, I feel better for making the effort and recording the results. It's now sitting on top of the restored sewing box, beside the rebuilt window, which may be asking for it.

vilets! swee' vilets! )
muninnhuginn: (Default)

I wrote in a letter to a friend this week, amongst oblique descriptions of the "remodelling" of the front of the house, that I'd characterise this year as the one in which I discovered the making of socks. To which accomplishment I may have to add curtains. With no Venetians to excecate, the front room was beginning to feel as private as a fish bowl. Net curtains--shudders--were becoming a necessity for at least the lower half of the windows. Or not. Even the ever-tasteful Robert Sayles' home furnishings department had hideous embroidered, scalloped, befrilled monstrosities. And the wrong size. The "café" ones were too short and the shortest length of the standard ones would have been way too long and would require shortening. Now, as a short-arse I'm used to buying off the peg and then pruning radically--every time I buy trousers. But doing this to ready-made curtains seemed ludicrous. I bit the bullet and bought the fabric by the metre and got out the sewing machine.

I bought voile in large green and gold checks. No nets. No grimy white. No machine embroidery. (I was briefly tempted by a solid purple, but resisted.) Home, I dithered for about three hours before putting scissors to selvedge (Knitting's safe: you can always unravel. Sewing's scary: you can't glue the pieces together again.) By nine, they were up. I'm feeling quite proud, almost proud enough to consider the lined floor-length replacements in cotton velvet or similar when we get some cash from the insurers.

Today, I taught Looby Loo how to use the sewing machine and an offcut from the curtains became a skirt for a Barbie princess. I don't think it's redeemed me in her eyes for refusing to buy her a "toy" sewing machine, but she did rather well.


Dec. 13th, 2005 01:56 pm
muninnhuginn: (Default)

They're not cats, they're sunflowers. Big has kept out of the way of building and plastering for over a fortnight. The day the partition comes down and we get light in the downstairs again, he's underfoot. So is Little. Sunflowers, very dusty, gritty sunflowers.

Fiat lux

Dec. 12th, 2005 01:51 pm
muninnhuginn: (Default)

We'll have a living room soon.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

A fortnight in (i.e. phase one supposedly finished), we have wall and some of the piers for the bay, plus window frames in place (as opposed to the four days where the frames occupied all the free floor and wall space in the hall and living room, during which time I hugged them a lot [beautiful frames of the same design as the broken ones, made to fit, with all the detailing repeated, thanks to the man from Diss (never diss dis man from Diss)]). Many problems with fitting things together and more rebricking being required-hence much of the delay. Also the lateness of windowsills cost half a day at least. Glass and glazier arrive today. I've taken, possibly a little early, nostalgic photos of the partition in the living room and the TV nest. And when it's down, most of the plastering is already done.

Must measure up for net curtains real soon.


Nov. 29th, 2005 02:52 pm
muninnhuginn: (Default)

We have windows! Admittedly without glass and leaning against walls in inconvenient places. But they are here and they're spiffing!

muninnhuginn: (Default)

At my waking, I found the tops of the houses covered with snow, which is a rare sight, that I have not seen these three years.
Pepys on 27th November 1662. Ours didn't stick, for which I'm exceedingly grateful as we have no front wall and no boarding.

Demolition, small scale, before reconstruction.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

Got a call from the builders. They've been having a wee bit of trouble finding sills for the new windows off the shelf. So, they're going to have them cut specially--by the local (literally up the road from us) monumental masons. Now, we've always made a habit of buying locally--the kitchen was done by people on East Road; the bathroom, laminate flooring by folk on our road--but I'd not planned on using the funeral directors... yet.

I somehow feel I've wasted an opportunity here and we should really go for something Gothic. Or inscribed. Or shiny marble. I think I'll settle for explaining that the window sills are offcuts from gravestones.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

Can't find this! Haven't been to pixies since this and have no idea where I put the darn thing. Nope, the bag of spare dice does not have d20s or anything else of great use.

This is I maintain the end of the world, if not the entire universe.


Nov. 20th, 2005 08:47 pm
muninnhuginn: (Default)

Little finally made it back to the vee ee tee, was x-rayed--both her foot and her dodgy shoulder. One toe fully healed, the vee ee tee is a little worried about how close to the outside edge of the bone the second pin is, but that's all the more reason for leaving the pins in. There's a something floating around in her left shoulder joint, probably explaining the odd tightness in her walk and the occasional, non-car-inflicted limp. Nothing more to do for now. Much relief.

Builders still on course to start in a week's time.

Xmas will be at Sutton Hoo. Looby Loo exceedingly pleased. (I'd not risked telling her where we'd thought of going until it was booked.) Xmas shopping progressing too.

The result of my 'flu-ey stuff is joints very bad, exhaustion, and limbs that feel as if they've been bunged in boiling oil, and dermatitis. Just in time for festivities and visits :-(

And I'm now entirely addicted to cut for spurious tension )


Oct. 28th, 2005 01:03 pm
muninnhuginn: (Default)

I've finished the socks that were buried in the crash.

Not a pleasant experience those final few inches (especially unknitting the last 18 rows and redoing them correctly) with the plaster dust and bits of brick lodged in the sock and gritting up the yarn. I didn't have much choice, since putting the half-finished sock in the wash with its stitches on safety pins would almost certainly have cleaned it at the expense of continuing at the same tension. So no pictures until they're both washed.

I feel no pride in the things now, since they were spoiled before I'd done with them.

I also found the process of finishing off the loose ends, tedious at the best of times, desperate. I reached out for the snips in the sewing box that isn't there, which was stupid when I wasn't sitting in the usual place (that being on the other side of the temporary wall next to the real wall that must be rebuilt), failed to find them and had to potter around looking for a pair of scissors instead. I truly felt lost without the ever-open (stupidly so, that's how it got broken and filled with rubble) sewing box that I use every day. I couldn't even tidy up properly as there's nowhere to stow the knitting needles I'm done with for the minute and the darning needle. And I've no idea where my file of patterns is to store the sock instructions and no safe place for the cute little beaded stitch markers. Ah well. The sewing box went off to be fixed. If it can't be I'll simply have to buy a new one--preferably bigger.

Next to finish Kyoto, which was sitting on my projects box beside the sewing box. It was also caught by the inbound wall. With Kyoto I'd reached the point where it was ready for making up prior to knitting the edging. I've just got to decide whether to undo the seams I've already done before washing all the components or whether to sew it up, wash it and then knit the edging. It's cotton so it won't shrink. I can't face the prospect of another period of getting on with what can only be described as knitty-gritty (or gritty-knitty).

Then there's half-knit Rufus to clean up and finish for Looby Loo.

But today the priority is finishing a big black hat for a little witch.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

May I present one recuperating cat.

much white fluff )
muninnhuginn: (Default)

The clean up's finished. I'm now allergic to the house and the furnishings and carpets within. This is why I never dust and keep cleaning things to a minimum. Still, it's done. The gentle redeposition of dust has, of course, already begun.

Big came home last night. He's asleep in a corner, having spent a lot of time wandering round in a confused manner: what is this rearrangement all about? why do we have new wall and no front windows? why does my sister have one bald front leg?

Apart from the piano, and replacing some of the officially written off furniture, the emergency part's over. Now we wait until the rebuilding starts. Not a prospect to be relished.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

... but, piano's frame not harmed, but piano needs to go back to factory to replace sections of its carcase.

Little's stitches have come out and her leg is healing well. The vet was very pleased with her as most stitches were still there and she hadn't been overcleaning the wound. If things look this good in a fortnight a further X-ray may not be necessary. Crosses fingers--and baldy paws.

Cleaners hard at work downstairs. Will be again tomorrow.

One day, I'll be able to concentrate on other things.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

One lot of builders, very nice with potentially good news about speed of fabricating replacement windows, came on Saturday, one other lot come on Wednesday (one lot--phew!--cancelled). Piano tuner tomorrow. Cleaners and Vet on Wednesday. I fear further expense.

However, the car is spiffing except the second set of magic keys don't do their magic. So I'm still anticipating my pleasurable feeling of exerting power over a large white object from a distance. Been trying for ages with Biggle--maybe he needs magic keys.

muninnhuginn: (Default)

The Little Cat. It's getting a tad stir crazy, it is. But it's purring. More importantly, after this morning's bad experience with a long claw caught in the bedclothes, it's allowed me to give it a pedicure and even permitted the claws on its baldy paw to be trimmed. This also gave me the chance to check how many stitches have been removed--and the answer is, only the one. Good cat.

Our joint fashion tip: the toy poodle shave is definitely best left to the toy poodle.

And there's progress, tho' too slow. We have no rubble out the front and salvaged bricks out the back. There is a partition roughly halfway across the living room (with a door giving access to the wreck at the front), which is keeping the noise down and the dirt out. There are down pipes from the gutters outside. The cleaners come on Wednesday. Which is when two lots of builders are coming to do quotes (the ones I already regard as my favourites are coming tomorrow and have already rung up asking preparatory questions), and when Little goes back to the vet for stitch removal.

Nice things: Looby Loo came home with a certificate for listening especially well; I've acquired a £5 Amazon voucher; I got my Michel Houellebecq on H P Lovecraft book today; and smelly stuff courtesy of BPAL and eBay: Pink Moon (may go to LL), Honey Moon (Mmmm, Bzzzz, spice?), and testers of Mata Hari (nice) and R'lyeh (neat). I'm wearing both Mata Hari and R'lyeh, which is more of a plot idea than a recommended scent combination.

Annoying things: builders (whom I don't want to get the contract for the rest of the work, tho' they clearly expect to); encountering the word "intercity" in one of the Bletchley in WWII sections of Cryptonomicon where it jarred as too modern a term (tho' I must check this out) for the setting. It's broken the magic, and I was enjoying the book greatly, and I'm not sure if I'll carry on. It took a good twelve months to make myself forgive Alastair Reynolds for the misuse of "crescendo" on the first page of whichever of his books it was I've read--Revelation Space?--and actually buy it. It was still necessary to take a deep breath and hold it through the first page before being able to enjoy the rest of the read.


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