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March 09 2006 - I'm Going To Africa
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I'M GOING TO AFRICA!!! On April 3rd I leave for Johannesburg, from whence I travel, on a bus, for 300 miles to somewhere in the deepest part of the African bush. Well, obviously the African bush, I mean I wouldn't travel to Johannesburg to take a bus to the Polish bush or even the Italian bush, now would I? On arrival I shall live in a tent for 8 weeks, and when I'm NOT in my tent, I shall be caring for orphaned and wounded Vervet monkeys. Their mother's - I do hope I put the apostrophe in the correct place - get poached and then sold for medical research. I shall be given charge of some babies, who I have to take to bed with me, because like human babies they have to be fed at 2 hourly intervals during the night. Never having had children myself I have an excess of maternal feelings at my disposal, and my biggest fear is that I shall forget myself and breast-feed. Which could prove to be a tad embarrassing and doubtless viewed by some as possibly eccentric. You know how easily shocked some people can be? And I can guarantee that those who ARE will not be reading any further! It's so strange, because even though I know I'm going, it still hasn't really sunk in, hit home, registered, whatever you want to call it. But you get my drift.... Tonight, I'm sitting at my kitchen table in my basement flat in a house built somewhere around 1786 with my cat - Caspar - stomping around and demanding attention - oops! I said MY cat, and if my best mate Vicki reads this she'll probably give me notice. I meant OUR cat. If you're a feline devotee read on, if you're NOT I suggest you depart this blog, never to return, stay with it and you'll definitely vomit. You have been warned. Vick owns the house I live in, and the reason she's the landlady and I'm the tenant is because she's one smart cookie. Caspar had been living with Vick for several years before I moved in - Vick inherited him from her daughter Emily - and prior to meeting Caspar, cats had never impinged upon my consciousness. I was a dog person having had several during my adult life, and quite honestly I just didn't 'get' cats. And then I met Caspar.... We think he's mainly a British blue with possibly a Siamese grandmother. But baby... does that cat have PRESENCE!!!? And charisma, a massive intelligence and stunning physical beauty. The only reason he took up residence in mine is because he prefers the facilities. Vick doesn't feel the cold, where-as I tremble violently and my extremities turn blue if the temperature drops below 85 degrees. So during the winter, I live with central heating, a (real) coal fire and an electric blanket. This arrangement suits him to a tee as he spends 23 hours out of each 24 lying on the aforementioned electric blanket in a state of unmistakable ecstasy. (I find I have ALOT in common with the domestic cat. I too spend 23 hours a day lying on the electric blanket, in a state certainly bordering on ecstasy). I feel as though I could blog all night, but tomorrow I have to leave for Stockton-on Tees (I THINK) to attend a convention, which means I have to do sensible acting and transfer myself from kitchen table to bed. But I'll be back babes...sooner than you think! x
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