I feel in the mood for a bit of a giggle. This is Eddie Izzard from his very funny show ‘Definite Article‘ and here he is talking about the famous experiment with Pavlov’s dogs, except this time applying it to cats. Eddie clearly knows a thing or two about our feline friends:
Tag Archives: humour
A Friday giggle from the brilliantly funny Harry Enfield. I laugh at this but, rather spookily, I’m pretty sure I did actually see a ‘public information film’ not far off this when I was a very young child! My how times have changed (I hope).
For the last couple of days I’ve been kind of fixated in putting my family tree back up on the web. I had it all on Ancestry.com, together with photos, and then in some kind of fit of pique one day I removed it all, meaning only to rely on my home ‘tree’ and not continue to fill the coffers of Ancestry. (Yeah, I know, I was being hasty and silly. I get like this once in a while). Well I’m paying for that decision now. My brother showed an interest in the tree on his recent visit and really by far the simplest way to show it all to him, together with pretty pics, is to load it all back onto Ancestry….not to mention the ability to both expand the tree and potentially connect with long lost relatives.
So that’s me. That’s where I’ve been and am likely to continue to be for a few days.
I just took a break from it all to post a Friday video. You know how some film and TV phrases seem to sink into the national psyche and get used over and over? This is a very short clip from the original ‘Italian Job’ (another all-time favourite of mine). I had been looking for the scene with Noel Coward where his character of Mr Bridges says: ‘someone’s broken into my toilet’ in that wonderful plummy, clipped voice of his. Instead I came across this much-loved and much-used phrase in our house when anything goes totally belly up:
If you haven’t already reached there, trust me, there comes a time in your life when a simple thing like spelling, or more correctly mis-spelling and the corruption of the English language will suddenly bother you in a way you never thought possible. Someone who saw this sign had clearly reached that stage in life:
Is it too late for the Olay do you think?
OK, I think we’ve established already that I suffer from an acute case of internetus paranoiacus and so don’t readily offer up too much information about myself here, meaning that I rarely describe my personal life. However, for the sake of full disclosure, here is the first in a short series on ‘A day in the life…’. Sit back and prepare to be riveted.
Tuesday, 7th July
I cleaned the utility room today – which is truly wonderful for me, given the pigging mess that it was in, but hardly interesting for anyone else. Here’s a question for you though:
How does cat food end up sprayed up the walls?
I’ll leave you to ponder on that.
I also tidied up the garage a bit. The kittens think that spending their days in a cardboard favella is phenomenal. Me less so. So much stuff has been ordered and bought by family members lately that we have sturdy cardboard packages coming out of our ears and whilst I can’t flatten it, because it’s clearly the strongest cardboard known to mankind, I reasoned that stacking it one inside the other would at least free up a six-inch path to the up-n-over door. (Always handy).
Apropos of the newly stacked cardboard boxes in the garage, another one arrived at lunch time – one containing the little white bedside table I’d ordered from Laura Ashley. Yay! Of course I have to put it all together (self-assembly you see), but it’s here. Then I can dump the box. In the garage.
That Dear Friends is about the long and the short of it for yesterday. Oh, except that kitten William has started peeing in odd places, like our *!!new!! *!!expensive!!* Stressless leather recliner in the living room (on Monday night) and in one of the cat beds today. It’s all been cleaned. In readiness for the next time.
Then there was the totally yummy Sausage and Lentil Concoction that I came up with for dinner last night. Maybe I’ll post the recipe here some time, except I should probably come up with a better name for it, don’t you think? ‘Concoction’ sounds like something I rustled up in a chemistry lab.
And there it is. Tuesday.
I had one of those weird moments today when panic makes time stand still and thoughts that might well be the basis of an entire conversation in the normal course of events are flashed across the brain and collated at the speed of light.
I had just finished getting washed, dressed and made up, had just popped the mascara back into its tube, zipped up my little make-up bag and put the mirror back in its place by the washhand basin and was thinking to myself how lucky the timing would be because the kittens had fallen peacefully asleep. That meant that I wouldn’t have to speedily slime my way through a crack in the front door to prevent feline escapees.
Then I heard it – an ominous thudding and the unhealthy sound of porcelain chinking coming from the bathroom. I went in to see kitten William, up on the window ledge, chasing a fly and doing a quick succession of Fosbury Flops onto my little white porcelain dish … which sits beside my brand spanking new glass optic jar from Laura Ashley (of which I am inordinately fond at the moment)… which sits beside a little blue Wedgewood trinket box. I went into an instant stressy. The fly kept buzzing and batting itself frantically against the windows, meaning that even though I had caught William and was extracting his struggling form from the bathroom, in came brother Harry to see what all the fuss was about. Of course he quickly figured it out and started doing his own back flips amongst my precious possessions.
Then my brain went into that odd panic slow-mo, where neurons are clearly sparking at supersonic speed and entire lengthy thoughts are processed in nanoseconds. Inside my brain it went something like this:.
Question: Do I open the window to let the fly out? Answer: Don’t be silly, the cats will be out and away in an instant.
Question: Do I try to catch the fly? Answer: Now that’s even more silly. With what? Do you think you’re the Shaolin monk out of the Kung Fu series? Catch it between your thumb and forefinger perhaps? … er, I don’t think so!
Question: Can I catch both cats at the same time and get them out of here? Answer: Almost as silly as option two.
Question: Do I move my stuff to a place of safety? Answer: At last! Some sense! But you can’t carry everything at once so what do you save first, brainbox?
I did get my stuff out, but only whilst blubbering like a two-year-old girl – maybe as a result of blind panic, I don’t know. (I’ve given up trying to understand why and how I cry so often and so easily, I just do. Always have). By the time bits had been moved, the fly had dematerialised (or was eaten) and I looked in the mirror. I had panda eyes — my mascara had smudged and started to streak down my cheeks. I had to be out early this morning so I quickly patched up the damage and as I slipped out of the front door minutes later I noticed the cats were cuddling and dozing on the bed as though nothing at all had just happened. Little [~ bleeeeeep ~]!