Hello, remember me? My
blogging mojo has been on strike for a while now, but I’ve resolved to
resuscitate this dying art – in fact, I’ve so resolved many times over recent
months, but I’ve always been stalled by the lack of anything to actually write
about. Unlike more prolifically creative
bloggers, I find it hard to just start writing without a topic, or a story, or
both. But this evening both landed in my
lap. I said to Z: “You should blog about
that.” She said: “No, you should.” So here goes.
If you’ve visited the Zeddary, you may recall that between
the dining room and the hall there’s a window.
It was actually part of the original Tudor fabric of the house, formerly
an external window up in the roof space somewhere, which had been bricked up
for many years. It had been reinstalled
where it is now, years ago, as part of a major extension/refurbishment. It serves no particular function, apart from
being beautiful and entertaining the cat.
Eloise Cat loves ducking through this internal window,
flaunting her prowess at avoiding any delicate objects that might be stood on
the sill. Usually this isn’t a problem,
but a while ago we put up a pair of heavy curtains on the hall side, to prevent
her doing this when we were away and triggering the burglar alarm. They’d been left closed last time, though
they didn’t need to be.
This evening, as we were eating our dinner, Eloise Cat
decided to investigate the corner cupboard where the best glasses and crockery
are kept. The door was open a crack, but
she obviously couldn’t get in there. But
she was amusing herself, and us, by trying.
I remarked that we should open those curtains. “She used to love going through there, and
now she can’t.”
Eloise Cat turned away from the corner cupboard and looked
at me. “You reckon?” she said.
*A quote from Clive
James, originally about dingos.
