EXAMS AND INSPECTIONS
Arraminta’s exams are nearly over so no more we can do but cross our fingers.
Apparently, Drama Practical went quite well. They had to improvise being a vegetable…she chose carrot for some reason. I felt it unwise to ask how she had portrayed it…I always sound very silly when I try to get involved. That’s what is so clever about these courses. You learn to see such things in a different light.
She sounded fairly upbeat about yesterday’s Travel and Leisure Paper 2. An essay on Lanzarote versus The Maldives as a destination. No contest imo, but that doesn’t fill three sides of A4, does it?
Critical Thinking was less of a hit with questions all about Aintree and the Grand National. A gift for a girl whose father is never far from the racing times, I would have thought, but she said not. It's just nerves.
I’m sure she’ll have done well.
The kittens will all be gone, apart from Tiger (this week’s name), when Arraminta gets back ….at least I jolly well hope they will. The backs of my legs can’t take much more.
Two have already been sold to good homes. One to an old lady in Frawdon, the other to the Plump Pig to get the mice under control in the cellars. I hope they keep it on short rations so that it gets a taste for hunting. I’m sure I’ve seen droppings in the lady’s loo. I shan’t take it back either way…Caveat emptor!
Mrs Stevens from the council houses came to collect hers after lunch…the one with the long silky fur and mad glint in its eye. They’ve bought a little blue collar and called him Boris.
Then into Denby & Hornsea with Tiger and Mrs Tibbs for a job lot of neutering. They don’t give discount unless they share an anaesthetic I was told…I think that was a joke.
They came home very subdued with their tummies shaved, but the pair of them were back to whining at the cat flap and scratching the furniture in under three hours so no harm done.
The curate has agreed to take the last two against her better judgement. She tried hard to say no, but I spun her the ‘they get very lonely if they live alone…especially if you are out all day’ story, and she fell for it hook line and sinker. I’ll drop them off next Monday before she changes her mind. I’m sure the furry blighters will enrich her life and that of her family. Let’s hope they ruin those awful shoes she wears.
Crichton has received a call from the firearms bods. Sgt Confines wants to come for a squint at the gun cabinets, so that awful man with the sweaty underarms will be here all afternoon on Friday. He’s so very patronising. Anyone would think he’d never met a woman who can shoot. The fact that I generally chose not to is none of his business, and I feel I have every reason to own my little 10 bore and the Ruger if I wish to.
I told him it wasn’t at all convenient but eventually I relented as the next appointment wasn’t for three weeks. They are so inefficient that they couldn’t guarantee I would have the Fire Arms Certificates or shotgun licences renewed in time for the grouse. If they run out before the new ones comes, it’s such a par-larva even though it’s their fault.
I have pleaded with Cook to lay in a goodly supply of stickies for the Old Bill and shall make myself scarce round at Granny T’s while the ghastly man tucks into our baked goods.
Crichton Comments
Sgt Confines arrived and set up camp in the gun room. He obviously relishes the visit and gets himself far too comfy sitting in my armchair ticking off the rifles, shotguns and ammo. The whole thing could take about half an hour, but he drags it out to an entire afternoon of chit-chat and one doesn’t like to hurry him in case he cuts up rough about the sound moderator on the Mauser, or Cynthia’s humane dispatcher.
Cook brought in tea and iced buns and he left a happy man. We can expect the new FAC and shotgun certificates any time this side of Doomsday.
Each day there are fewer cats in my house. Long may this trend continue.
Comments
Post a Comment