So Nige sent me a text about his new blog the other day. Having read it, I thought to myself, hey! I’ve got one of those! I had, truth be told, forgotten all about it. Nige’s blog has inspired me to get typing again. He’s growing stuff in his garden down Brighton way by the coast. I could probably make an effort to grow some stuff in the garden, plus then I can put some pictures in and it will make things a little more interesting. So here goes, wish me luck.
This is my sister, Helbabes.
Helbabes is a management consultant, and is very intelligent. As you can see.
Not to be confused with my other sister, Hanbabes.
This is my sister, Hanbabes.
One day, she will be world famous film director, Hanbabes Pudentino.
Hanbabes is not to be confused with my other sister, Helbabes.
Him Indoors – and a chicken. He’s not one for poncing about all over the interweb as the chicken evidently is, so this is all you’re getting for now I’m afraid.
Likes: Beard Papas, sausages and his shed.
Dislikes: Raisins, gherkins and mayonnaise.
I’d like to think that I can provide a useful source of information occasionally, as opposed to a neverending stream of inane rubbish.
Sooo, here’s how to adopt a cat from Battersea cats home (at least, this is how it went for us.)
First of all, you go to the home during their interviewing hours, pay a pound to get in, fill in some forms and wait to be interviewed.
The ladies and gents who do the interviews have a great job. They get to keep one of the dogs or cats in their office with them during the day. This is to socialise them I guess. Or perhaps the animals they choose are their personal favourites. Or even their pets, I’m not really sure. It turns out we can’t have a kitten because we’re out too much during the day. They recommend we get one that is 18 months or older. The next step is to have a ‘home visit’. Someone will call us in the next 7 days. I’d better get hoovering.
The home visitor dude doesn’t turn up when he said he would so I call him. He’s in the middle of Battersea park with 22 dogs on leads, walking them. He’s obviously a busy man – I’ll let him off. Eventually he comes over, has a nose round and has a bit of a chat with me about keeping the cat inside for the first few weeks etc… He gives us a bit of paper to exchange for a cat at the home. Kind of like a voucher I guess. Or one of those coffee shop loyalty cards.
Battersea cats Home is a little smaller than their dogs home. They have about 30 cages. I say ‘cages’, they’re nicer than that. Sort of plastic pens really. They’re about 4×3 ft. They have a little ledge for sleeping on, a litter tray, food and water. They also have a catflap at the back of each pen with access to a yard so that they can stretch their legs.
There was also this random bloke hanging around the place. He seemed settled enough to be staff (he had his own mug) but I think he’s actually a cat groupie. Weird.
But I digress. Then we met little Wilb. Her real name was Bella, but we’ve changed it. I just kept calling her Wilby and she never answered to Bella anyway, so I’m afraid it’s now official. I have re-spelt it ‘Wilbie’ though as she’s a girl.
Wilbie has been with us a month now and is thoroughly settled. I call her the anti-hoover. This is due to her very diligent and thorough anti-hoovering skills, which consists of her travelling around the house depositing cat hair on every surface. Even those hard to reach nooks and crannies. Very impressive.