Cambridge here we come!

Oh yes, it's that time again! Cambridge Folk Festival is on this weekend, and yet again I will get off the motorway and get lost in the Cambridgeshire countryside.

This year, Scott is navigating. Not sure whether or not this is a Good Thing. We might be relying on my innate ability to find the Guinness tent come-what-may.

This year, only two of us are going down there from our Usual Suspects. Ben has the best excuse (something about going cycling in India this autumn, bah!). Though Damon and Lisa's new house runs a close second. The Townley children are not allowing their parents to attend (probably for the best, Steve and Hayley would just run amok in the children's ceilidh. Oliver and Lucy are too young to be made accountable for their parents). Iain is meeting us down there, my mate Dorian might make and appearance, and over the years I've acquired a nice bunch of drinking buddies down there, so we won't really miss the convoy (*she lied*)

But I want to make something very clear. Once we get to the festival, Scott is ON HIS OWN. I will take no responsibility for any dodgy headgear/musical instrument purchases or his behaviour at any workshops he might attend. I am his friend, not his conscience, and I don't do the voice of reason or commonsense.

It works both ways; he is not going to try to explain anything I might do/say to old acquaintances or bail me out under any circumstances.

Glad that's sorted!

Quick update

Tig is alive and well, and has a note from the Glasgow lab to say he is one fine and dandy cat. My bank manager is greatly relieved about this.

Tyler has learnt to walk, and is 1 year old today! We think he is going to be a goalkeeper or rugby player, as he still prefers to grab the football and roll round the floor with it. He's not mardy enough to be the next Ronaldo.

The cats have decided that they don't like ill people, which was a bit of a nuisance when I was off sick last week. I wouldn't mind, but they never use the bathroom...

And I am on Cambridge countdown. Please, PLEASE send the heatwave from 30 July - 3 August.

Tig and his ailments (again)

We are now waiting for the results from Glasgow.

On his last visit to the vets, Tig had to be held down by two experienced nurses while poor Patrick the Wondervet took a swab from Tiggy's mouth. Tig may look like a little sweetie - don't be fooled. "Ginger demon git cat" is the most used alias.

It sounded like Patrick was testing for the 'Carlucci virus', though I may be wrong. I had been watching one of the cookery programmes and Antonio Carlucci does a mean tiramisu. But whatever it was, Tig was swabbed and Patrick escaped unscathed.

But I am a bit concerned that Patrick read his records, and said, "He doesn't look like an immuno-suppressant cat."

Eeeek. Neither did Elvis.

Tig's being a bit quiet and withdrawn, but is eating ok and he is a cat that likes to catch a few rays in the garden. He doesn't do wet weather.

Can we have a heatwave to cheer up a depressed moggie?

It's been a funny old month has June...

what with Sophie and Ralph getting married, Scott changing jobs, Julie legging it from the mortal coil, Tyler learning to walk and Tigger continuing his vendetta against Patrick the Wondervet!

July is starting quite well, with the annual family get-together at the races (Mum's birthday) and Mandy & Steve's wedding. Shame they clashed, though with a bit of messing about and some nifty driving, I get to attend both. And Cambridge Folk Festival beckons, with a nice mid-month boozy foody fest half-planned.

At this rate I won't be missing football. Which is good, as Mike Whalley has decided to take a close season break.

On the whole, life is good :)

Julie

This is posted with much love and affection for Julie.

She was my neighbour for 21 years. She was the cool kid next door, always in and out of our house. My parents loved her to bits and called her the 'little star'. In a reciprocal arrangement, her Mum was my 'auntie Babs' and much better value than the blood aunties.

Later she became the more clued-up big sister. My own sister is 14 years older than me, and read Cosmopolitan, so I 'borrowed' it from age 7. Julie, only 5 years older and not as unapproachable as big sis, explained the bits that 'Jackie' magazine wouldn't tackle!

In another life her ability to create a party out of nothing, and get it talked about for weeks would have earned her megabucks. And I learned a lot about how a pithy one-liner can start or end a fight, from Julie. She was fundamentally a kind, funny person who did light up a room. Few people can really do that.

After we moved my mum would go on regular jaunts to the old neighbourhood and still saw Julie quite often. She only remarked a fortnight ago that it was strange that Julie had been out when she called.

She died of aggressive lung cancer on Tuesday 17 June, after 5 weeks of negative tests for pneumonia at a nearby hospital. Paul hadn't told us she was ill; it was supposed to be routine checks for pneumonia and pleurisy, he saw no reason to alarm an old lady for nothing. Julie would be home soon. It ended in a frantic attempt at chemotherapy at Wythenshawe Neil Cliffe Centre.

She was 49, planning a big 50th do, and looking forward to her 16 year-old son starting college in September.

In her lifetime she managed to own a damn fine collection of Pesky Critters, though it would be unfair to count partner Paul and sons Lee and Matthew amongst them. Let's have a bit of respect for the living.

Insert your own 'sudden death platitude' here. All I can think is 'oh bugger, it won't be the same without Jules'.

Tyler update

Can now walk, and brush his own hair! Better than most of the adults I know...

Six unaided steps on Friday, then he sat down and applauded, just in case we missed the point.

Saturday, he took his mum's hairbrush and wobbled over to the mirror to sort his own hair out. And he doesn't mind having his teeth brushed, all nine of them.

All at 10 months, 3 weeks and 2 days. I've no idea whether this is good progress or not, so I'm just going to be stupidly proud and vaguely pompous about it all.

Starting with an apology...

apparently it is Lowden, but I'm not blessed with innate musicality, so I didn't know. But the aggrieved Lowden owner suggested 'Compton Mackenzie' as a name for the new Macbook, and I think it works.

The cats have shown an indecent amount of interest in the new toy. So I think their kind concern should be added to the mix.

Welcome, Compton Mac-kenzie, Reservoir Macbook. Shame I bought the white one.