Sunday, 23 February 2020

As Fit as a Flea. . .

Hello and welcome to The Sunday Selfies! 

     We are joining The Kitties Blue, from The Cat on My Head blog, for the weekly celebration of blogs and bloggers from across the world, and across the species.

     To join in, get the Linky-Link code from their website, add it to your page, and enjoy the hop!

     A link to the first part of this mini-adventure story called 'My Sweet Valentine' can be found HERE.

     If you want to see some of my, or rather Mrs H's January Foto Failures, then click the link HERE.

     Hello, and welcome to the 6th selfie of the New Year.

But first, the continuation of our little story. . . .

     Mrs Hudson sat beside Erin's bed and gazed down on the princess, who was looking particularly dishevelled. "Well, how do you feel?"

    "A bit better today, thank you, Mrs H. I think. . . " Erin blew her nose into a fresh tissue and then dropped it into a small dustbin beside her bed, joining countless others. "I think I'm over the worst of that flu bug. But I do feel as though I could sleep for a week."

    "So nearly back to normal then." Mrs Hudson winked to indicate she was only joking, as she knew the princess was not one to sit down on the job, well, not unless there was an unruly mouse to be SAT on. Looking at the thermometer, she'd just taken from Erin's mouth, she double-checked the reading. Satisfied, and having wiped it clean, she slipped it back into its case and carefully sat it on the bedside table. "Well, I'm pleased to say your temperature is back to normal 101.4 to be precise. As fit-as-a-flea, in fact."

    Erin blushed. "Ah, sorry about that I think maybe I do have one—"

    Mrs Hudson put up her hand to stop Erin from continuing. "Don't worry dear, I have spoken to your consultant, and they have made an appointment for you in a few weeks, once you are feeling fully recovered. Now let this all be a lesson for you. Never go out playing in the torrential rain even if you are seeing them toms off for trespassing. There's are a time and a place for these things, and if boys want to go galavanting around and catching colds – well that's up to them. You have responsibilities, my dear, and think what would have happened if both you and I were sick at the same time! Old Ned the gardener couldn't have coped with the cooking; believe me when I say the surprise in his 'vegetable surprise' soup was that he'd managed to peel-but not cook the veg. And Mrs Gusting, the reserve cleaner, would have damaged more than she cleaned; I really do need to book her in for an opticians appointment."

    "I'm sorry Mrs H, I really didn't mean to cause all this fuss; I'll be better next time and just shout at those boys in future, at night, from the upstairs bedroom window."

    Mrs Hudson winced at the likely caterwauling and increased lack of sleep she'd get, then sighed. Despite the reproving remarks, she really couldn't blame Erin for being a feline and estate proud. And there had been so much of it – the cold bug – going around. "Just promise me you'll be more careful dear, that is all. If it's raining or cold, wrap up warm and take your vitamins. Less snack food takeaways and more wholesome nourishment."

    Erin propped herself up in bed and beckoned Mrs Hudson over to listen. "Is there any news about, you know, my letter to Val?"

    "What letter is that dear? You sent a gift for Myrna, and she sent you a nice reply. I read that to you yesterday."

    "Oh, yes, not that. I mean that proposition I had for VAL." Erin gave her best attempt at a knowing wink like Mrs H's."

    "I do hope you and Seville have not got involved in another nip enterprise – South Sea Nip Futures or some other nonsense the Weasel Syndicate Inc. may have cooked up. Those things never hold water, and you will lose your money too!"

    "No, my Valentines Day proposition to Val, and my email letter asking him to, well you know, get hitched!"

    "Ahhh. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Erin, but I think you were hallucinating – delirious during your fever. I recall you – how should I put it – rambling on about some nautical themed adventures. Alas, I paid no regard. Though Val did send you a nice gift of a fluffy pink teaser."

    "So no gushing acceptance speeches?"

    "No, dear."

    "No bunches of roses and appointments for getting a gown and rings and booking a holiday to Portland?"

    "Alas, not. Sometimes we say things when we have a fever – live out in our dreams things that are desires rather than fact. Don't worry, though, at least you weren't mobile enough to send out invites or blog about it."

    Erin sighed, and Mrs H could see she had rather burst a bubble that Erin had for so long been inflating in her heart. "Best you rest up and get your strength back so we can get things back to normal. I'm still not over this cold of mine, and will need a hand chasing the mice that have taken advantage of your two-week illness!"

    "Two weeks! But I thought I had been off for a day, maybe two or three at the most!" Erin frowned, things really must have been bad. She made a mental note to contact Seville ASAP, to advise him about Mrs H's comments, and suggest they buy shares elsewhere to fund their early retirement plans.

    "Right," Mrs H continued as she got up and picked up Erin's empty breakfast tray, "time to get a move on. Rooms to dust, and guttering to wash and leaves to rake. Press the bell if you need me, otherwise have a small nap and then maybe work on this week's blog post?" Mrs H smiled and left the room, letting the door click softly shut behind her.

    Life, it seemed to Erin, had returned to normal. . . .

    Thank you for visiting us this week, and we hoped you enjoyed our frivolous fun feline fancy.

     If you have any particular favourite recipes for recuperative food and tonics, please do send them in a sealed container marked "URGENT Nip Medical Supplies", to me here at the Palace, and I'll make sure I take them as soon as possible ;)

     To see what our international blogging pals have been up to this week, be it tonics lotions or potions, or just neat nip brandy, then please click the links below, and enjoy the Hop!

Friday, 14 February 2020

My Sweet Valentine . . .

   Well, there was I having a nap on my favourite sofa in my favourite room, when the palace's lions claw door knocker clanged. I could hear Mrs H struggling to the door in her suit of armour and thought she was taking the whole concept of taking keeping the germs at bay, rather too seriously. Still, it was a great opportunity to deal with (scare off) the flurry of salesmen we have had recently, all intent on replacing our new windows with yet newer and better windows that, to me at least look just the same.

     Anyways moments later Mrs H clanked and squeaked into the room. Well, I think it was the armour, though her arthritis has been getting worse with the cold weather. I made a mental note to squeeze some glue into the joints later on, and to check for mice too, just in case!
     "A card and package for you dear, and unless I'm not mistaken, it is from the Americas." Mrs H proferred me the envelope and the pink plastic package. The package made an interesting rattling sound, either that or the postal service had just broken another of my orders for fine crystal ornaments!

     "Can you open it for me, Mrs H, as those plastic envelopes play havoc with my claws," I said, desperately trying to extract a claw from the glue strip edge on the package. "A great opportunity to give that sword of yours a bit of an outing." I smiled at Mrs H, who I knew had put long hours of polishing and sharpening into the old blade, as well as a few hours getting to grips with wielding it; I fear the trees in the orchard won't be bearing any fruit for a few years to come!

     After a flourish (or nine) of the mighty blade, the envelope lay open, neatly sliced along all its edges in a pretty scalloped effect. Mrs H really does take things seriously when she gets going, though maybe I need her to get out more?

     "There you go dear, nice and ready for inspection." Mrs H placed before me the contents of the letter and the envelope. Boy was I surprised and delighted!

     "Wow, Mrs H, this is lovely." Before me lay the most delightful and exotic pink teaser, ever! Thankfully, undamaged by postal service or Mrs H's wrist action. The soft pink heart immediately took my fancy and I nuzzled close to it and could sense the love emanate from its soft fur. I instantly knew who it was from, a fact that was borne out by the letter which was actually a Valentine's Day card from my, and the one and only truly original (top cat, well in my book at least) Valentine!

     "I do not know what to say, Mrs H, but this is wonderful. Do you think I should do something special in return?"

     "Well, I do think that after two-plus years of courtship and adventures on the high seas, it is time someone made an honest cat of that boy, Valentine. He is single and has his own transport too – plus clearly excellent taste, and first-rate staff." I could tell Mrs H would approve of a formal engagement if not marriage – being of the old school, and how could I put it, older. I nodded sagely and pondered what I could do.

     "It isn't really the done thing to propose to a gentlecat though, is it?"

     "As a rule no. But this year is a leap year, and as such, YOU could propose to him." Mrs H smiled and pulled up a chair. "I do think it would be good for you both to settle down, well a bit at least. Seafaring and book writing are excellent pursuits but a lady should have a companion." If nothing else it may stop the double glazing salesmen from trying to take advantage!" Mrs H winked and I knew she wasn't thinking or expecting Valentine to come over and act as a guard in the watchtower or wear armour – well I think she wasn't?

" Oh well, If I had known that, I would have been over in a jiffy. Pass me the laptop and I shall profess my love and post, in a post, my proposal." Mrs H gave me an approving smile and slipped open the laptop and booted up the hard drive.
Moments later, well, an hour and thirty minutes and two cups of tea, a sherry (Mrs H's) and a nap, I was ready!

And this is what I wrote:

"To my dearest and sweetest Valentine.
Our adventures have taken us far and wide, across the seas apart and side by side.
Our hearts have entwined in stories bold, told to friends across the world.
But the best story is that of life, lived together husband and wife.
On this special day, once in every four they say, a princess may choose her future
and seek the paw she wants without the risk of suture.
So, on near bended knee I ask, would you be up to the task –
To be my champion – dark and handsome, to be my foil and my transom?
Say yes, at least give me some thought, my window opens and curtains flutter,
just like my heart, and yes, for you it melts like butter....."

     "Mrs H, what do you think?"

     "Well, I don't think you could have put it better, Erin." I did like the nautical term too, very witty. Now, shall I send that off to him? I believe the first class post goes at midday?"

     I sighed as Mrs H really hasn't quite got to grips with the concept of 'sending mail'.

     I hope you enjoyed our Valentine's Day Story and proposal.

     However you Valentine's Day goes – be the answer yes, or hopes scattered to the litter tray, remember that love is just not once a year (or once every four), but a 25 hour-a-day, 367 days-a-year kind of thing – Just ask Mrs H!