Who shot the cat?

A great weekend.

So, I started playing the flute again this weekend. I was a bit nervous about it as I hadn't really played properly since I was sixteen but I was reminded by a close friend this week that we have very little to fear but fear itself (And spiders of course). But if we actually put ourselves in situations that we are not entirely comfortable with we can find out a lot about ourselves that we didn't know.

It was actually a very positive experience, I'd forgotten far less than I thought and it all came flooding back! Maz chose some really great pieces to get started with and once Em's up and about I think I might give them a quick practice.

Anyway its a good excuse as any to reprint a story I wrote about starting to play the flute which I wrote a good number of years ago. I haven't altered or edited anything in it as its a good reflection of what I was writing at the time. But looking back on it now I see where the cracks and creaks are and wince a touch. but thats what growth it about I suppose.







Origins of a flautist




As most male endeavours have been over the span of human history, I started playing the flute to impress girls, sort of. Well one girl in particular, lets call her F.

F. was everything to me as most school yard first crushes are. Even though I knew little of the ways of love I knew that it must be that feeling she gave me every time she smiled. What else could this exquisite burning in my chest be?

She was in the year above me and my sun rose and set with her coming and goings. In the multiplex of my mind I saw every time I had past her in the corridor and in slow motion got to replay that one sweet time I queued behind her in the canteen, close enough to smell the coconut shampoo she used, whilst she giggled in front of me with her friends.

I should point out I didn't spend my time running from one side of the school to another just to catch a glimpse of her like some kind of hormonally charged stalker. There were other considerations in my school life at the time including football, sweet shops and bunking off.

When I saw her it was a rare treat I savoured rather than trying to gorge myself on an excess of her.

I listened to a lot of music even then, my friends and I would always be discussing albums and bands swapping copied tapes back and forth like we're meant to believe the kids today are swapping STD's. Eventually talk came around to starting our own band and I was given the task of both buying and learning the bass.

I rushed home sure that Mum and Dad, both being musical, would be overjoyed that I was going to become a famous rock star. To say they were under whelmed would be an understatement. I think they were afraid one of two things would happen;
I would buy a bass, get bored and leave it to gather dust in a corner, or I would play it so much and at such a volume that the structure of our house would age prematurely and bring the roof down on our heads.

A compromise was sought in that if I could play a non-offensive (non-guitar) instrument for a year they would think about buying a bass. Unhappy but unable to afford the bass myself I agreed to their terms. After some internal parental debate they presented me with a flute.

I was shocked. I couldn't even conceive of an instrument less bass like. Instead of striding the world like a rock behemoth, making the foundations of the world itself tremble, I would be playing a poncy version of a recorder, sideways, with my cheeks all bunched up and my lower lip sticking out like some kind of wanton child.

However, knowing my parents well enough that once a decision was reached, however stupid or ill advised, that would be the course of action that would be taken I kept to our bargain.

So I took the metal stick and started taking the regulation lessons in school as was stipulated in my contract with the parental unit. Imagine my surprise when I attended the first band practice, was directed to a seat in the flute section and F. sat down right next to me.

My panicking heart didn't even have time to recover from the sheer nearness of her before she turned to me smiled and said "Hi, you new?"

The burdensome flute changed in that instant to a key unlocking that which I truly most desired, contact with F.

Less than 2 months later, my friends abandoned the idea of forming a band and I had no need to stay in the band, as my bass playing skills or lack thereof were no longer required. But I kept at the flute so I could stay in the band and stay near to F.

Twice a week at lunch for 6 years I played the flute and had fun with F. My near obsession for her mellowed into something deeper more tangible and more adult. We became really good friends and apart from the odd half joking half serious valentines card my ardour was happily quenched.

A succession of boyfriends came and went but I was always there before during and after. I got to share so much more with her than I ever could have done as a potential suitor.

When she left school, a year ahead of me I simply stopped going to band. I started avoiding the confused music teacher, to whom I gave no warning of my musical defection, cleaned out my flute and placed it at the back of my wardrobe.

There it staid, wrapped in its red faux-velvet lining, until another group of friends decided to form a band and this time I already knew the instrument I was going to play.









There. That wasn't so bad was it? *shiver*

Anyway so friday we had dinner as payment for a very enjoyable flute lesson feature a one two whammy of Cottage pie and Cheesecake. We introduced Maz to the world of Dirty Word Scrabble. Extra points are awarded for the rude words. (In one game we still discuss Em got Quim on a triple word score!)

Saturday I biked up to Llandernog and back which was really rewarding/knackering but I'm not so bad today, it'll be tomorrow when the aches really come! We had a housekeeping day and went for a two hour wander around town finding all these really lovely od streets and quiet spots in town. The sun was just fabulously warming. And we finished off the day with the first barbeque of the season back at Rob and carolines helping them finish off some homemade burgers! Yay!

When the sun shines the world feels like a different place. I love how green this part of the country is and I wouldn't change it for the world but its nice to get some proper sun now and again.

So, a cat then.

Having been a dog person most of my life it may come as a surprise
that Em and I adopted a cat on Friday. Even more of a surprise if you
know Em's allergic to most things with hair (She assures me this has
nothing to do with her initial attraction to me and my shaven pate.)

We were told that adult cats (he's five) very rarely get adopted as
there's always a glut of unwanted pets and everyone wants the kittens.
Which I find really sad. I don't intend on ghost writing a blog in the
name of my cat or making every post about him but I think he's worthy
of a mention here.

An actual cats' blog would be quite dull I'd imagine.

April 4th;

Slept.

Slept.

Slept.

Got up, ate some biscuits and played with my humans for a while to keep
them happy.

Slept.

Planned global domination through the cunning use of catnip.

Slept.

Batted a cloth mouse around for a bit and pretended it was pleading for
its life. I showed no mercy.

Slept.

April 5th

etc etc etc

He's meant to leap out of his cage when he first arrives and find a
hiding place in a small room and not move for a day or so. The books
say not to force him to do anything too soon but rather to let him get
comfortable with the new environment.

Instead of the timid feline we were expecting this guy was straight out
and prowling his territory within seconds. Ballsy as you like coming
over to Em and I for a fuss and to leave us with clumps of fine white
hair.

He's quite a big lad as you can see above and having had the snip he's
leaving hairs rather than scent to mark his territory. I've hoovered
about five times this weekend already.

The only downside so far (aside from the extra hoovering) is that he's
mewling in the night as he's possibly bored or just uncertain of his
new routine. We can't let him in the bedroom as I don't think there's
an Anti-histamine strong enough for Em to actually sleep in the same
space as the cat.

The books say to make sure he's got everything he needs before you go
to bed and then ignore his meowing until the morning. Having finally
moved into a house that's quiet at night I seem to have invited my own
disturbance in with me. Hopefully this behaviour will change once he
realises;

a) We're not going anywhere.

b) However much noise he makes we won't be getting up

c) He'll be able to go out of the house in a week or so.

I've also realised that petting is not the same as playing and that I
actually need to play with the cat to make sure he's not getting bored.
The lovely cats on the farm I've mentioned before have 10 acres to run
around and play on. Our cat has a small bungalow full of other peoples
stuff. It's just not the same amount of stimulation.

So tonight my shopping list includes toys, catnip, a scratching post,
kitty litter and a scooper. The less said about the last couple of
items the better.

The family seemed to like him as he's quite a placid cat (when its not
4AM) and quite frankly gorgeous.

As soon as I can stop him from mewling we'll be best friends (Or I'll
get better earplugs.)

And the name?

Well its a combination of things, The 'Hero' of my favourite book "The
Dreamquest of Unknown Kaddath" By H.P.Lovecraft (Which is available as
a free download from the Gutenberg project Google 'em , you'll be glad
you did) is called Carter and he is very friendly with the cats in that
strange world. Also 'Get Carter' is one of my favourite films and I can
now quote it every time he leaves the room.

But most I think because it suits him very well.

I shall not to mention him too much here unless he does something
spectacular. Like win the Nobel prize for Physics or something. In
which case I might get a mention on HIS blog.

Carter the cat. (Actual size.)

Firdays!

Bikes hurt when you cycle for a couple of miles uphill. Just so you
know.

Moved back into our house last weekend and celebrated by making my
first batch of beer for a while. its a standard Bitter brew but I'm
going to try and couple of bottle conditioning styles using the basic
brew as the template. (And also brew up the rest of it for the Not-The
Royal Wedding)

We're having our official housewarming on the day of the wedding not
through any anti-royalist republican feeling. I actually thing the
Royals give good value for money (Duchy royal biscuit anyone?)and wish
William and whatsherface all the best but I don't need eight hours of
the bloody thing. If you're reading this blog then you're more than
welcome to join us, bring something to drink and something to throw on
the Barbeque. Plastic crowns and sceptres will be confiscated at the
door.

Been reading the Johnathon Barnbrook Bible which is all about Graphic
design and art. For an art book its surprisingly accessible and it make
you think about how fonts are used and how the shape of the letters
used subconsciously works on you.

Doing a mothering Sunday dinner for both respective mothers at the old
homestead this weekend. Be a chance to flex my culinary muscles. Only
ever done one roast before so I'm looking forward to the challenge. I
might do a chicken roasted on a tray of veg and mini sausages or I
might do a nice rump of beef with some Yorkshires. Mmmmmm How long is
it till lunch?