Sunday, January 01, 2006

Carol singers unite!

Hope you had a happy Christmas and have a very happy new year. I like the turkey (oooh I just made a pun!) I'm just too talented. Anyway, I, like the turkey am absolutely stuffed. I had slivers of raw turkey Christmas Eve, Dolly did too (she loves all her meats tartar.) I like it cooked, raw, rescued from bins. Lilly distastes uncooked meat. She likes the burnt crispy bits of meats, likes crisps and chocolate cakes even tries to eat peanuts but won't eat anything uncooked. Lilly is special; she was rescued from The Bath Cats and Dogs home, she had been taken to this sanctuary after being found wandering on a motorway. She is not the brightest light on the chandelier. Susan (the female human of the household) believes she should have called her Gracie. She doesn't climb, plods rather than walks -I think it's the size of her feet they are huge. Lil's life is lying against the radiator walking to the kitchen, popping out to drink from the birdbath, in no particular order. Recently Big Lil has gone deaf; it just came about all of a sudden. Everyone thought it funny when the morning's noises, alarm clocks, showers, radios, tea, coffee cups rattled, Lil would continue snoring, (sometimes when there's a film with great poignancy and the zzzzz zzzz zzzzzzzz zzzzzzzzz zzzz is most distracting and breaks the magic bond of film and watcher, but that's Lil.) She was merrily shredding an art deco chair and no amount of shouting and hand clapping distracted her from her revelry, I thought at first they were giving her a round of applause for managing to sink her nails into solid oak, but Dolly soon, too soon, corrected me, (it's no wonder she's got stripes (she is a real sergeant) It was a well aimed chocolate wrapper that finally ended Big Lil's adhoc carpentry.

At Christmas Lil has an elastic band attached to her belly, which means every time the fridge door is opened and where the leftover turkey lives she is compelled off the sofa and her nose is forced into the fridge. This happens with such force (the compression of this invisible band) that she can arrive at the fridge door before one of the humans has crossed the kitchen floor.

Boxing day, the great American bird is served cold. Potatoes roasted in olive oil with a sprinkling of paprika. Alongside is served red cabbage a wonderful shade of magenta. This pickle simmers merrily away filling the house with it's piquant fragrance. I'm not a great lover of vegetables in fact I don't like them, don't like them at all, just take grass now and again as a tonic but even I can appreciate this aroma, it does make the juices flow or maybe it's just the thought of the turkey accompaniment. Anyway the recipe for this is as follows if nothing else you'll know what I'm talking about.
Might be nice to try!

One small red cabbage
I large onion
1 garlic clove
1 cox apple
and some vinegar that's it. Absolutely no water (or it turns a horrible colour.)
Change the ratios around to suit your taste (don't you just hate humans who have to weigh things, no instinct, no confidence.) Anyway what you do is fry off the onion until transparent Everything's chopped up by the way, thought I'd just mention that in case you included the apple cores: oh groan as if you would! I'll go and annoy Eileen in a moment; the bark on her Japanese aspen is particularly sensual under paw and claw. As I was saying before I interrupted myself. After the onions you basically toss every chopped thing into the pot and pour in some vinegar put the lid on and leave to simmer. And that's it.

Snowflakes are falling gently on my ceiling; I have a new cardboard box with iceberg lettuce letters on the side and a new clean blanket. Which I'm looking forward to returning to after my constitutional wander, Eileen's first, I'll ignore Fiona's which I know sounds terribly rude but until something grows it just is very boring. I will also go carol singing because I know the misfortune of being down and out like to support my fellow felines who through no fault of their own have found themselves on hard times. I sang silent night outside Brian's at 2.20am last night (that shows you how concerned I am) and do you know he opened the window and hurled what I believe was a slipper, didn't hang around to find out as Chancer was barking at the door he managed to annoy Brian's neighbour and lights started coming on all down the street, Stupid dog. Tonight I'll try away in a manger.

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