See this face...
Does this face look like the face of a cat who would, whilst her best human chum was out at work all day yesterday, earning a crust to pay for, amongst other items, some VERY expensive cat food, burrow into a knitting bag and remove the on-going knitting project and trail it all around the living room, through the hall and up the stairs in an act of blatant woolly vandalism?
Does it look like the face of a cat who, despite receiving SEVERE reprimands for her woolly hooliganism, repeated the offence today?
Well, I tell you this, my friends - yes, it flipping well is! That Flora Bijou Mybug...tut!
Mind you, when I look in the mirror, what I see staring back is the face of an idiot human who leaves her knitting lying around as kitty temptation not once but twice! I guess Flora and I shall have to call the knitting débâcle quits.
Luckily, the main body of the knitting itself remained on the needles and the needles remained outside the body of la Flossie-cat. That's all I would have needed, coming home to find a cat impaled on a knitting needle in some bizarre episode of 'Catualty.' My lesson is learned and the knitting is safely squirreled away during the day.
I have also learned my lesson about walking to work when it is raining. I have been walking pretty much every day and even this Tuesday, when it was tipping down, some part of my brain (the Department of Idiot Suggestions' probably) said, 'It'll be fine! Wear your big parka coat! Go on - walk!'
So I did. I got drenched. Part of it was courtesy of stupid car drivers speeding through puddles and sending spray across the pavements. Part of it, too, could have been avoided if I have taken my enormous brolly. And when I got to work and removed my coat - well! Where my girly bosoms had pressed against the inside of my coat, there was one big circle of wetness covering my left boob, and another big circle of wetness covering my right boob! The last time I achieved that effect was a couple of days after giving birth, you know - 'when the milk comes in' as they say in that charming bovinistic allusion.
Not embarrassing at all! I switched on the heater under my desk and slouched low in my chair, until the offending drenching had dried off.
Yesterday, I took the car. Back to walking again today, though. A longer walk because the subway I usually take to get across the ring road in the middle of town was flooded, and thus, because of the incompetencies of the Council, it shall remain so, probably until next May. And this means that instead of going subterranean and across, I now have to go up a hill, across two sets of traffic lights and through a scary narrow alleyway that smells of pee and is littered with fag ends, beer cans and other unsavoury items it would make me heave to mention. Pedestrian safety is very high on the list of concerns of Maidstone Borough Council...NOT!
Now, do you know what these are? No, NOT bunny ears. Nor over-done éclair shells. They are ballet shoes.
Hmmmm...well...yes...you see, I bought them on a whim on Monday. When I was buying some clobber to wear at Pilates tomorrow. I thought it was a Good Idea!
Third position! Not the most elegant of footwear, I know, or ankles. Maybe 'pointy toes?'
Or 'Pointy Toes With Cat?'
I don't know - what do you reckon? Overweight, almost 50 year old post menopausal woman starts ballet classes? Does that sound a little TOO crazy?
The last time I did ballet was when I was at primary school. Surely I haven't changed THAT much since then??
Anyway, my theory is that if ballet shoes are available to fit my feet and I am pretty much at the stage in life now where I don't really care what other people might say about my latest whim then I should just go ahead and try it regardless. Especially if I can present myself at school with soggy boobage circles on my blouse.
So, Pilates starts tomorrow. Embroidery starts next Saturday. And ballet? Who knows!?