Tree Play

After having had such a week of sadness, we permitted the Apparitional Gamekeeper to hire a dumper truck — having, the week previously, bought him a new and more powerful chain-saw. In consequence of the one and teh other, there has been mighty logging; to the extent that the chain saw has already required a new chain. The fallen ash and other trees have been cut up, and moved, with the aid of the dumper, to beside the woodshed, which is now all but invisible behind a mountain of logs. The AG was helped in this endeavour by the Professor and the Northern Gentleman — I had a pile of stuff I’m externalling to get out of my life, so spent the day puzzling over scripts listening to the roar of the dumper in the distance. The males of the household are all as stiff as boards this morning, but pleased with themselves.
Meanwhile, we have had a report on Mrs Grey Cat. She is very happy, and lying about in various corners of the pink castle, purring. She was as stressed by the domestic situation as any of us — it wasn’t that she liked attacking the kitten, but she plainly couldn’t stop herself. She has relaxed and become sociable. So it seems as if that is one story which has achieved some kind of happy ending.

3 Responses to “Tree Play”

  1. canadian professor Says:

    She oculdn’t help it because she was, in her view, a victim of injustice. She had applied for the post of Cat. No one told her that an external candidate had the job sewn up. What could she be but bitter?

  2. Jane Says:

    She didn’t so much apply for the post of Cat, as squat.

  3. canadian professor Says:

    Is that not the feline mode of application, i.e. of the bottom to the doorsill?

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