The Sopping Sunday

The Tropical Godfather (see response to previous blog) is quite right; the Gamekeeper, with his chest-high rubber waders, is just what is needed. Or a dear little BOAT. It is unbelievably wet here; it has rained with such grim persistence that we have a leak in the spare bedroom; all the defenses are being tested to the limit. The dam, however, hasn’t actually burst. Yet. But the ground is so wet that the lawn actually squelches underfoot, and that means huge volumes coming down the burn. Miss Kit had a small adventure last night; I was awakened by an imprecation from which I gathered that she had bitten the Professor and he was taking exception to it. Some minutes of curious manoevuring in the dark followed; and it eventually dawned on me when the little creature bumped up my way that the kitten had somehow contrived to get herself inside the duvet cover and was getting increasingly anxious about finding a way out — hence I presume when she came across a recognisable portion of Professor, an arm or something, she bit it through the duvet in the hopes of attracting his attention. I succeeded in unwinding her from her prison, and peace descended once more.

3 Responses to “The Sopping Sunday”

  1. A Wishful Reader Says:

    I do wish some way of providing protographs of your Borean Paradise could be found. Much as I enjoy coming up with my own, I’m sure the reality would exceed my fancies.

  2. site admin Says:

    There are a very few photos on site — I have to ask the Rogue Semiotician, who hosts this for us, to put them on and he is a man with much on his mind. There is a photo of the inauguration of The Damn in ‘Works of Giants’, August 13, 2005, taken by the Greatest Living Renaissance Scholar. It looks much like that now, only muddier, worse, and with more and dirtier water. It is not in the least paradisal at the moment. Creepingly and insidiously cold, with occasional ferocious downpours (causing Damn-related hysterics), interspersed with hail and sleet. The only person who is cozy is Miss Kit, who is lying curled up on somebody’s PhD thesis beside me, directly under a halogen desk-lamp, shining like a new copper saucepan. There’s a pin-up of her somewhere as well, end of August/early September, it would be.

  3. A Wishful Reader Says:

    If you or the Rogue Semiotician care to drop me a line directly (he has been to my place, I believe) I feel confident I can offer some assistance. Much as I enjoy my own word pictures, I fear they fall short of your Idyllic Reality.

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