Boo

Fudge is a good cat. Each night round about 10:00 or 11:00 she’ll run excitedly to the door having heard me tie the bag of used litter to take to the bin. Frankie can’t come with us; she’s too excitable and would run around outside for hours before deciding to come back. Not Fudge though. Fudge appreciates her night visit to the garden and listens when told it’s time to come in. Fudge is a good cat.

I had dropped the double bagged used litter in the bin and was waiting for Fudge to come down the three steps in the close and out to the garden. She always hesitates because of the noise she hears from out there and thinks it may be a stranger – someone not within her comfort bubble that she doesn’t want to be around. The noise is my neighbours overflow pipe. It’s been broken for as long as I can remember and makes a cracking sound as it hits the constantly wet gravel.

Crack.
Crack.
Crack.

A steady and constant sound like a metronome.

In barely anytime at all Fudge remembers the origin of the sound and has a short burst of a run to reach the door. She stopped short however strafing to her left as she spots something on the close floor. A bug. I can’t see it but I know it’s there because Fudge’s head follows its path her nose never leaving the ground; her mouth never leaving the bug.

Our roles are reversed as I stand out in the pitch black stillness of the night and look in oh my cat as her head jerks and her mouth twitches in such a way that I know she’s just eaten her tiny prey.

“Aw Fudge that’s nasty ha ha.”

“ha. ha. ha.”

My head darts towards the sound of the laughter and my mind races. Maybe someone on the path past the fence? Maybe someone with an open window in there flat? Maybe my imagination? Maybe, but if I imagined it Fudge did too. When I looked over to her she had backed away toward the stairs, her head was down and her eyes were black.

Ten. Twenty. Thirty seconds looking into the blackness and trying to find a shape that didn’t belong, straining to hear movement but hearing nothing but the pipe drip.

Crack.
Crack.
Crack.

One minute now. Long enough. Fudge is half way to the door and I’ve proved to myself that I’m a man and not afraid by bumps in the night. But this was a laugh and despite finding no evidence in sight or another sound I can feel eyes on me and know that the chill in my spine has little to do with the winter air.

That was a week ago and no voice or otherwise has been heard or seen since. Fudge has trotted outside happily as always and in truth it’s the absence of the fearful little cats reluctance that is of most comfort to me. I used to walk with her out to the garden and stand with her as she sniffed the air. Now stand in the door. At the door nothing waits behind your back.

Babies!

This week has been all about babies. Not the least of which is my Brother Christopher and his wife Yvonne’s newborn Lucy. She was born on Valentines Day round about 2:30am and weighed 8lbs 12 ounces. Now the weird thing is a few people have said “So, you’re an uncle again”. Now I get what they mean – I have a niece and nephew from my sister already – but does another niece make me an uncle again? I don’t think so; if anything it just makes me more of an uncle. I’m an uncle to the power of three (and that’s just in blood relatives!).

***

Today we supposed to be babysitting for Michelle’s brother Steven and his girlfriend Ellen. They had a little boy a few weeks ago and named him Eli. Now I’ve only seen the kid once so on the one hand I was looking forward to seeing him again, but on the other hand – a much heavier and tired hand – looking after Eli would mean getting two trains into Govan.

It’s Sunday I don’t even like getting on two shoes on a Sunday let alone two trains. It’s just about the only part of Christianity I agree with – Sunday is for rest. I do nothing that involves effort on this day – it’s a life rule that I hate to break but still I did feel a little guilty at the fact I was overjoyed when I found out I didn’t need to go.

***

Now the last thing isn’t really anything to do with me but it was too cool a weird a thing not to tell people. My friend Jim has two brothers, Stevie and Craig. Stevie lives down south and Craig lives here in East Kilbride. Each has been with their girlfriends for a long time and recently both found out that their girl friends were pregnant. Great, brilliant, nothing odd about that – except that both babies are due on the same day! What are the chances of that!

***

Well that’s all I’ve got for now and I’ve got to say that after reading both Zach Braff and Kevin Smith’s Blogs I have to say that writing about my mundane little life is kind of intimidating. I really have to start doing interesting things.

'Till then.

Soon to be Mocked

A bit late perhaps but here are my resolutions for 2007: -

Do the Dishes Every Day
I do the dishes in the flat, it is one of the things that I, and only I, do. My current modus operandi with said dishes is to let them pile until there is either no room on the worktop or no cutlery with which to eat with. No more. Everyday!

Lift Weights on a Semi Regular Basis
Back in the day when my bulk was not purely made up of chub I use to lift weights. I still have them, so to say I plan to use them on a semi regular basis should not be too difficult. Lets say I do it at least once a week to start off. If I manage that I may start doing it more. Maybe. For now - once a week!

Join a Creative Writing Workshop
Specifically the creative writing workshop Laura and Stuart “got me” for my birthday. By “got me” I mean they looked for a course, highlighted the page for the course on a prospectus and gave me half the money towards it. Now the workshop starts this month, but as after all the bills come off Michelle and I will only have £15 in the bank I can’t afford to go. However I’m sure it’ll be on again and I plan to be there when it is. Best birthday present ever!

Make a Baby
Out of papier-mâché and try to convince Michelle it’s real and that she gave birth to it. Maybe if I used one of the cats in the mould…

Tomorrow

Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind. ~Mary Ellen Chase

In my previous post I had spoke of what fills me with the feeling of excitement for Christmas approaching – wrapping Michelle’s gifts – but, while the above is true, the state of mind mentioned in the above quotation does not occur until the day is upon me.

Children are filled with the spirit from the day their advent calendars are opened, or at least as the number days open out number those still to be. At some point they begin to count sleeps and become ever easier to manipulate with the perhaps cruel but effective threat that Santa knows if they have been bad or good. Christmas is magical for children, their still developing little brains dazzled by the shiny objects and bright, occasionally blinking, lights. And of course there are all the packages under the tree – “For me?” – For them.

The older your get the more difficult it is to feel the magic. The shiny objects are less fascinating, the bright lights hurt your eyes and blinking ones threaten to send you into some sort of fit, and all those gifts under the tree – “For me?” – No, not for you. You have to struggle through crowds of ignorant humanity and wait in seemingly endless line after line for your gifts. Then there’s the cost - where’s that jolly fat bastard when you really need him?

And then you wake up on Christmas morning. There’s something unquantifiable in the air – everything seems still. There are the one or two gifts under the tree for you and your content with the quantity you receive and love those gifts because you love the one that gave them to you. Everyone is pleasant – you pass people in the street and rather than pass by them you greet them a merry Christmas or at least wish them a good day. The worries of the year nearly past fall away for one day and the day it’s self is a gift for that fact.

Today, Christmas Eve, is stress. Maybe you’re buying the last minute gifts, maybe your wrapping all your gifts, maybe you’re preparing for tomorrow’s dinner or maybe you’re building your kids gifts tonight to be freshly delivered by Santa Claus tomorrow. Tomorrow is calm. Tomorrow is content. Tomorrow is love. Tomorrow is Christmas.

Have a good one.

A Lot Like Christmas

I don’t know if it’s the non-stop rain, the fact that month it passing so quickly or astonishing amount of money I don’t have, but I hadn’t been feeling the Christmas spirit too much until recently.

The tree was up, the house decorated and Michelle and I had wrapped all the presents we got for the kids and parents – but I know now that none of that does it for me, doesn’t get me excited about the upcoming festivity. I know now that it’s wrapping Michelle’s gifts that gives me that familiar buzz that we mostly leave behind the more time passes.

I think it’s because Michelle is now the only person that I buy gifts for; meaning that she is the only person that receives gifts which are just from me as opposed to “us”. I always buy her, her own wrapping paper so that her gifts look different from everyone else’s under the tree, and I always pack those gifts in boxes or bags full of tissues and decorate the packages with bows and sometimes ribbons.

I like to make the effort with the packaging because Michelle almost always knows what she’s getting. This year for example I bought her tickets for Swan Lake but stupidly got them sent to the flat. Of course Michelle was in when the mail came that day and it wasn’t exactly hard to figure out what I was getting though the post in an envelope marked as being sent by The Theatre Royal. So, yeah she knows what it is, but I made her an envelope from two types of wrapping paper so that, while it may not be a surprise, her main gift will at least look nice when she wakes on Christmas morning.

Anyway - I’m done for now as I don’t want to speak to much about Christmas at this time. I’m hoping to write a good Christmas post nearer the time in the same vain as last year.

‘Till then.