Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Oh Paddington, how could you?

Marmite? Really? You've given up marmalade for Marmite?

You treacherous little darling, you.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Chuck? It's your cousin Marvin. Marvin Berry!

The Smidge was starting to look a bit tubby in the tum area, and since that unfortunate incident with the door, and that other unfortunate incident with the futon (when I actually thought she had broken her leg), she is afraid of her toys. So what I reckoned she really needed was a new litle pal to run around with.

We wanted a kitten/cat who was dog friendly, cat friendly, and, most importantly, robust and healthy. Luckily, a lady on the Pets Ireland board was able to help us out, and she drove over from Finglas with a 16-week-old kitten called Berry. He is now named Marvin Berry, although I call him little Roo (he also goes by Mini Smidge). He's an amazing little cat. No sitting around in one room for a week waiting to acclimatise for him. Oh no. He was out and about with his face in everything inside the first couple of hours, and he marched boldly around the dogs for hours on end, annoying them just by being small and forbidden. Woody in particular is fascinated by him, and just follows him everywhere, trying to lick him and wash him and love him. I only worry that he might accidentally swallow him.

The Smidge and Linus have taken to him tremendously as well, and the running around plan is working very well. Not to mention the fact that he hasn't had so much as an ear mite since he arrived.

Marvin Berry is also an affectionate little thing. He likes to be picked up and cuddled, and he loves to nap beside me in the afternoons. He has a loud purr and he loves a bit of a chat, too. Now I have three cats who lie around me on the bed when I'm having a lie-in.

Of course, now that the ex-hubbo and his missus are heading back to the U.S., cat number four will be on the way in the next few weeks. Now that really will be fun in a house this size.

Tuesday, September 23, 2008

If it's August, it must be Edinburgh

It's so long since I blogged about anything of substance that much of what we did in Edinburgh has faded from my precious brain area, but some things remain. We saw some American comedians, including Louis CK again, who was patchy in his attempt to pull strands from his longer show, and Kristen Schaal, who did a cute sketch show with a guy called Kurt something or other (no, I'm not looking it up, I'm not well), but seems to be a little one-note. I am allowed to be bitter about her, because Mrmonkey has informed me that he will be divorcing me soon so he can go and marry her little squirrely face. Well, go on ahead. See if I care.

We also saw some English comedians, including Nina Conti and her monkey, who were both entertaining as always, although I was more creeped out than amused by her working her dad (Tom Conti, in case you hadn't guessed), into the show. It seemed a bit desperate, frankly; and Commodore Sir Tim Fitzhigham, who had the best directed show on the whole Fringe. Actually, Tim's show was very interesting. It told of his decision to emulate the great Shakespearean clown Will Kemp's feat of morris dancing from London to Norwich in nine days. There is film footage of Tim doing that very thing, and tales of the adventures he had along the way, all performed in a tiny little portakabin of a venue. Most entertaining.

Also we did see ComedyB in the largest venue on the Fringe, and he was entertaining as always, although we did want to kill the four women in the front row who wouldn't shut the hell up while he was talking. The annoying thing about this kind of stealth heckling is that nobody in the rest of the audience can hear it, but it's incredibly distracting for the performer, so they have to do something about it, but doing something about it makes them look a bit of a dick, because nobody else knows there's really a problem. So don't talk if you're in the front row, is the lesson there.

We also saw Craig Campbell's show. Craig is a burly loon of a Canadian comedian who had decided to go a different way this year; instead of your standard bloke-tells-joke show, he went for a horror/comedy one-man play about a guy who works the haunted house at carnivals, travelling all over Canada, taking drugs and scaring the shit out of people. It was really good. Craig's characterization was surprisingly effective, the show had a plot and a proper story and everything, and it was funny to boot. I'd recommend it, and I'm not a fan of the one-person play thing.

Off-hand I can't remember what else we saw, but I'm sure I'll remember later.



My brain seems to have started working again at a time when my body seems to have shut down, so now's the time to get some blogging in while I'm laid up in bed.

First, some questions.

Did you send me a letter earlier in the year that I intended to reply to? If so, I still intend to do so and I'm sorry I haven't done so thus far.
Have you sent me a thank-you card in the last six months for some gift or service I gave you? If so, I did get it and I appreciate it and it was rubbish of me not to have acknowledged it.
Do I have books lying around that I saw in Oxfambooks and meant to send you in Canada or, perhaps, in Bristol? Yes, this is almost certainly the case. I will get round to it.
Have I collected your wedding present from the shop yet? Not yet, no.
Are you a Canadian comedian I saw in Edinburgh and whose show I promised I'd blog so people googling it would find a glowing review? Yeah, I didn't do that either.

Man, I feel better now.