Excerpt from the Locked down Tiger who came to TEE

Available on Amazon https://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B0914YT77B/ref=dbs_a_def_rwt_bibl_vppi_i1

Sunday; I staggered down the stairs this morning to find water pouring in through the front window seals. It appears while Tiger was carefully removing the sycamore tree from the gutter last weekend, he had inadvertently dislodged the downpipe. The weather was atrocious and I had to put my waterproofs on and scuttle out to sort the problem. If I stand on tiptoes, I can just about reach the gutters on the front of the house. As I pushed up the pipe the water flooded down my arm and far beyond. A shock to the system like this is not be recommended. Wearing waterproofs over pyjamas is not to be encouraged, I was soaked! Even my fluffy slippers looked as though they had done a triathlon, finally the downpipe was fitted and I staggered indoors. Once I had showered and dried, I spend the rest of the morning mopping water in the kitchen and behind the work tops. I was listening to the Eagles whilst working and it occurred to me! Tiger had had his revenge for being a specimen in a jar for my previous ramblings. I resolved to increase security.At Lunchtime I noticed the water pouring down the inside of his conservatory window, feeling more than a tad smug I tucked into my granola bar!

Monday; For some reason yesterday evening Rigsby the halfwit Labrador, didn’t want his perfectly prepared tin of very expensive grain free dog food. I forgot to secure it away from the jaws of the rampaging furries. This morning I came downstairs to find one of the team missing from his normal spot in the hall. Malcolm the ginger mentally challenged cat was nowhere to be seen, most unusual this time of year. He is always in for breakfast and then roams the fields and local farms reminiscing on the days when he could actually catch something! I made a cup of tea and I noticed him curled up fast asleep in his favourite chair (Actually it’s my chair that I use to help support my back but he is allowed to use it or he sits on me!) normally, he is up like a shot demanding his staff bring him food and be quick about it but not today. I thought here comes a vet bill, the local vets are still working but the way you visit has changed beyond recognition. I have not yet experienced the changes, but I am told you have to ring while in the car park then poke the animal through a catflap type airlock. Seems odd but we will see. Anyway, the old boy couldn’t move, looking around he had eaten the whole bowl of dog food, I checked the security camera and at 4am he had trotted down the path looking lithe and slim, now he was blown up like a balloon and looking smug and unhappy. To be fair he looked a bit like me after Christmas dinner! Panic over. When I got to the first landing, I could hear crashing and banging downstairs, back down I went to find old lardy stuck in the catflap. He obviously needed a pee and was off to do his stuff. Once again in my night attire I am outside in the rain poking a cat backwards through the catflap. Being ginger he didn’t get it and he was pushing against me. Eventually after a few minutes he came out the door and I went to find a towel. Ten minutes later the cat flap was banging and crashing again, he was back this time stuck coming back in. Once again, we played the ginger cat shoving game and eventually all calmed down. I settled back into bed and took a sip of my tea… stone cold oh well no lay in for me!

Tuesday; Yesterday was the 15th November, November underlined! Last night while standing at the kitchen window the normally blacked out houses across the road had a set of icicle lights dripping down from the gutters flashing in a rhymical fashion. It seems due to the weird way this year is panning out; Christmas is coming early to this corner of Kent. Cleary, we have missed something so today we are checking on the supplies of Christmas cards, wrapping paper, stamps and of course Terry the Turkey, nesting nicely in the corner of the freezer awaiting his moment of glory. Many things to consider, last posting day to Damascus, will the sprout stalk last until the big day, did I make the Christmas pudding early enough? I wish someone had given me more notice. The sounds of crashing and banging above me is getting louder, someone is checking stocks of bread mix so we can order if necessary. The twelve days of Christmas have been stretched to 37, I feel someone will be rewriting the old song soon!

Wednesday; Christmas cards written overnight ready to post. I was faced with a surreal situation this morning. I need to cut back the buddleia which the hens use for shade in the summer months, but it’s getting a bit more tree like than bush. It’s clear the chainsaw is due to make an appearance. I mentioned this to the management who went red with rage, I went to the garage to whittle some sticks until the air cleared. I hadn’t considered the fact the chainsaw noise would probably give them heart failure, what a twit! I was faced with something which many hours later I still can’t fully explain so I will do my best. Back in the day when we used to herd granddaughters, we had left a few disposable nappies which were about to be ditched. Management was sitting on the floor with scissors fashioning tail holes in the nappies. I was sent to the garage to get the chainsaw. By the time I had mixed the 2 stroke fuel, and found the chain oil, the garden was completely empty. Curiosity got the better of me. I went indoors and almost fainted with shock. Sitting on the sofa were 4 hens wearing nappies with ziplock bags on their feet! They were watching ‘Chicken run’ on the TV and seemed quite happy for me to do the gardening work. Suddenly there wasn’t any sense of urgency so I redecorated their house and added a few Christmas lights and repaired their disco ball.

Thursday; What a day today. It started off well with a couple of piles of cat sick on the stairs, perfectly stood in with bare feet! The hens didn’t want to come out when I opened the door. I went down the run and saw movement under one of the sun decking boards. It was obvious there was significant digging underneath. My heart sank, it could only be one thing…RATS! For those who know me well will know of my fear these mostly harmless creatures. When I was about three, I had one run across my face in bed and this traumatised me for life. Looking down the barrel of a smoking AK47 didn’t even feature in the scale of 1 to 10 compared to the sight of a rat. Even one crossing the road three hundred yards ahead sends me into apoplexy. I immediately went to find a garden chair but realising I would still have a rat by standing on, I discounted this and thought of a better idea. Having removed the management from its sleepy hollow, complete with Labrador, we decided to attack the problem as a team. I decided we should pull up the decking with the garden rake, when it was vertical, I would get the management hold it whilst I attacked the interloper with the yard broom. All went well and after gathering composure, I heaved the board up and it was securely held against the fence… expecting the offending hoards to come up fighting, I grasped the broom and as I looked gingerly over the top…nothing, zilch, nilrat! From underneath the hen house a field mouse was I swear, rolling on its back laughing its head off. Time for coffee! whilst putting the rake the back in the garage, the door came off its runners. The rest of the day was spent negotiating a door specialist to come and repair it.

Friday; Up early today, the door man is calling in to see the size of the prize, this was a very expensive call out. The nice man got hold of the door and after spending fifteen and a half seconds adjusting his glasses, drinking his flask of coffee and taking what looked like a spliff from his pocket, he concluded I needed a new screw! One screw! Within five minutes he was gone, sleepless nights awaiting the bill! To aid my mood I told the Alexa thing to ‘play some music’ This didn’t help my mood at all, the dulcet tones of Noddy Holder yelling “It’s Christmas!” NO I can’t take anymore. Now this seemed to have been the catalyst for another beef on my part! Fairy tale of New York is one of the best Christmas songs ever, recorded in 1987 telling the story of a drug addict and an alcoholic who meet on Christmas eve and spend life arguing with each other. The music police AKA the BBC, have felt that the language of the time could be inappropriate to some groups or individuals Apparently, it is a song for another time (err yes 1987!!) and the words need changing in case they offend somebody. For goodness sakes, having researched the words carefully, I appreciate as a country boy somewhat sheltered in life, the only word I can see that could vaguely offend is the word that starts with A and ends in E. Having considered the rest the only other thing that could be confusing is a reference to a Brains ready meal from back in the 70’s. I always liked the gravy, and the whole dish went well with a good portion of mash and sprouts. In my weird world the weekly blog finishes today, Where is Saturday you cry whilst waving banners and marching up and down my garden path, Saturday in the world of retirement is my day off, I sit in the dark humming the ‘Match of the Day’ theme tune while eating pickled onions and scotch eggs. I will see you next week got to go, the police with tear gas are just arriving outside!

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