No, I haven't been ignoring you...

but I have been leading a rather sedentary life, with no interesting acedotes or photos or anything.

I know that's never stopped me before but maybe I'm getting the hint.

The Thick of It

So, we have a new government!

A coalition. Not had one of those since the 70's, how retro-chic is that?

Oh, FFS.

I keep having this recurring thought about a Conservative/Liberal Democrat deal. Put it like this - if you went to the zoo, and found out that the lions and the gazelles had formed a coalition and were sharing a pen, would you expect it to be constructive?

The LibDem gazelles can say what they like, but the Conservative pride ain't listening. They are just waiting for lunch to shut up.

Admittedly, the remaining gazelles might get a lucky break when the lions are too stuffed to move. But what odds would you get at PaddyPower or Betfair?

And would David Attenborough fancy a move to The Politics Show?

Eric Morecambe, 15 April 1996-27 April 2010

Eric Morecambe, founding member of the Reservoir Mogs, is no more.

It was a rock'n'roll end, involving a pretty brunette and a syringeful of powerful drugs.

Happy Birthday Eric Morecambe!

Yes, obviously I mean the furry one. Not the comedy legend.

Our Eric is 14 years old today. He has dined very well on prawns and monkfish, and is currently basking in great comfort on the comfy chair. He declined the banoffee pie, so I scoffed it with help from Tig and Bailey.

Life is hell for an elderly cat....

Eric rules...err, ok then

Mr Eric Morecambe, senior Reservoir Mog, has been giving me serious cause for concern.

In fact, on Tuesday I thought he was heading for the Great Catflap in The Sky, and whisked him off to the vets, prepared for the worst - the Dignitas treatment.

During the journey, he perked up. On the treatment bench, he eyeballed the vet and his whole attitude said

Whatever you were going to do with that thermometer, change your mind NOW.

So the big jab became one long-lasting antibiotic and one painkiller. I left with a bottle of Metacam and a cat who can still do the killer stare.

And result! Tonight I came home to find a skinny black cat with attitude sat at the gate waiting. So I did what any grateful owner would do - put the collar back on. Oh yes, if he's up to playing outside he needs his Hi-Vis and flea collar.

He's skinny, perky and massively pissed off with the outfit.

Cat behaviour explained

Akif_Pirinçci apparently collaborated on a book about cat behaviour.

I should buy a copy. I'm having problems with a line of reasoning from Jasmine.

Eric is still feeling sore from a recent tooth extraction. To be brutally honest, all his back teeth out and a biopsy which has revealed a slow but malignant cancer.

Combining honest discomfort with a healthy desire to milk the situation for all the tuna it is worth, he is playing up. He's on lovely nutritious treats, all mashed/chopped/blended, while the others think it is fantastic and wolf down their shares at warp speed.

The little mouse almost went unnoticed, as I lay on the floor persuading Eric to eat spag bol. He has invented a nice little sport - he gets under the dining table and weaves in and out of the chair legs, knowing I can't reach him. All the better to avoid antibiotics and bad food choices.

There it was, neatly placed under his favourite chair. I knew Eric wasn't up to hunting, Tig was snoring on the sofa and Bailey doesn't catch mice.

Jasmine went into raptures when I asked "Did you bring Mousie in?". She likes praise for honest graft. But if he is wary about tackling mince, how did she think he would manage a mouse?

Answers by carrier pigeon, just in case he gets peckish. *groan*

The Second Mid-Life Crisis

When I was 32, I realised it was unlikely I would settle down with someone, and have the "2.2 children and half a dog" life, any time soon.

I decided to take the plunge and buy a house. As you do.

The last week of May 1996 proved a bit hectic. In the space of 3 days I got the keys to the house, had my navel pierced and acquired Eric Morecambe, Cat Legend. I wondered if it was my mid-life crisis as both my paternal grandfather and my father died aged 64 and I started to brood about it.

Two weeks later the IRA bombing of Manchester on 15 June had a profound effect on several members of my friends and family, and made me realise that nothing should be taken for granted in this world. Although they said there were no casualties, some things did go forever.

At the time I owned a little blue Mini, called Muttley. I sold it 6 months later and regretted it instantly.

Fast -forward to 2010: the house is still standing and so is Eric, but totting up the gains and losses over 14 years made me feel that I was being sad and complacent again. I applied the 'Death Bed Regret' criteria. What would I regret NOT doing, with my final breath? Obviously it had to be something I could change for myself. I decided it was time for a new MLC. I'd always wanted a convertible and the trusty Yardis was becoming a wee bit of a money pit.

So meet Muttley II.