Had visits yesterday from 2 Sandys – one of whom is my vicar at St. M’s church. We had a very profound discussion… particularly around my ambition to ‘come back’ as a sleek, cool, black cat. I mean, cats are hardly the height of intelligence are they? Sister S (who often looks after Troy for us) has always referred to Troy as a ‘guard-cat’… cos he regularly checks who’s at the front door and sees off (with a few good stares and a little howling) any rude cats who refuse to obey territorial etiquette. Sandy reckons I can do better than come back as a black cat…. well… today, God has come to my rescue to prove that ALL his creatures are truly, truly marvellous … check this super-cat (click or cut and paste into your search bar): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fy097s5t8Pc
I’ll be that tabby any day… provided I’m… black.. of course.
I don’t need any help, really I don’t. However, it got me thinking why, when I first had this accident, that Jay was strangely happier – he said as much! He loves it when he can help me! So, I finally accepted an offer of help from neighbour Sylvia (79) to take me shopping today. We threw our crutches into the back of the car and ourselves into the front (Dukes of Hazzard style – lots of throwing happens when u use crutches) and set off to a supermarket I don’t use much. We’re the Crutch Bandits I said to her. Waitrose has a pretty steep slope leading down to the entrance. I shop by pushing my trolley and then crutching to catch up with it… and as a result, my careering trolley came within 1cm of toppling a frail lady before crashing into the not- quite-open automatic doors….Trolley Bandits then. As we got home, we wondered how we were going to get my shopping from the car to my front door… we’ve got to nab a handsome young man Sylvia said. I waved my magic crutch and up popped the PE teacher from St. W’s primary school.. out of nowhere .. howzat?