The death of the moth and other unfortunate necessities

I like most living things. OK, so I’m slightly scared of spiders, I wouldn’t particularly appreciate a close encounter with a snake or a crocodile, and I hear grizzly bears can be a bit intimidating. And some humans are simply vile.* But generally speaking, live and let live, that’s what I say. Unless you happen to be a clothes moth, in which case, as of this week, I’m ‘unfriending’ you.** Why? Well, I’ll tell you…
Continue reading


A crafty year!

Would you believe me if I told you that it has taken me an entire year to realise that I can make the photos in my posts bigger? Yes. Read it and weep uncontrollably, for it is sadly so. Worse, I have even reflected, from time to time, on what a shame it is that the photos are so small. In the words of the immortal Bart: doh! Continue reading

Colin the Robin and the brush with death

We honestly did think, on the arrival of the Feline Detectives, that we’d cat-proofed the house. Ha ha ha. No. We hadn’t. Apart from plant-gate, where McCready got an upset tummy from chewing on what we have since discovered to be a plant best not consumed by felines and which resulted in the removal of all such foliage from the joint (as in domicile, not weed), both McCready and Gilmour are prone, let’s say, to collecting things. With McCready, it seems mainly to be yarn, usually my more expensive stuff (mental note: must hide yarn); Gilmour is a bit more eclectic in his selection and even the plug from the bath has been found amongst his stash of toy mice. Yes, really.

Continue reading

Feline Detectives and Makers of Mischief

Folks, this week my blogging plans have gone decidedly awry. Why? Well, I’ll tell you. We’ve had our hands full making our new feline housemates feel at home:

McCready and Gilmour.

McCready and Gilmour.

Named after Pearl Jam and Pink Floyd guitarists Mike McCready and David Gilmour respectively,  Continue reading

Colin gets cuter

It’s funny how time vanishes when you’re tired, ploughing through an apparently endless list of jobs (even if they ARE little and essentially pretty unimportant) and spending a sizeable portion of the weekend on your day job to boot. Suddenly, the hands start spinning, the hours zoom past faster than a rat up a drainpipe and, before you know it, it’s almost Sunday-evening-telly o’clock. Goodness me.

On the plus side (as there is a plus side and, in fact, almost always is, even if it can be infuriatingly hard to detect on occasion), Colin is starting to develop a bit of character. Who is Colin? Ah, well. Continue reading