David Beckham world cup 2006

"England! England! England!"
"Stop shouting."
"I'm excited."
"England!England!"
"Ferdinand!!!"
"England!"
"Ferd."
"Yes Doll?"
"Stop shouting."
"England."
"Ferrrrrrd!"
"England! England! England!"

Jim the graveyard cat

Through the large black wrought iron gates across the flagstones, a shortcut walked to the shops. At Christmas time once a year and for that day only the gates are closed, this preserves the path as private property. Most of the gravestones have been removed some re-rooted along the stone wall. A few headstones remain; lichen clad most of the inscriptions worn away by rain and wind. But one tomb is lichen free, well tended, the wording recut. This is the resting place of Thomas Helliker hanged March 22, 1803 in the 19th year of his age. A cloth worker, he was arrested in 1802 on suspicion of threatening a night-watchman with a pistol during an anti-machinery mill-burning riot. Although protesting his innocence, he refused to betray the real culprit, a fellow member of the shearmen's union, and was subsequently tried and hanged on his 19th birthday. He was later cleared of any wrongdoing and was adopted by the trades unionists as a martyr marking their struggle through turbulent times.

And this is where Jim the graveyard cat's black backside was now parked. His eyes closed face tilted up to catch the warmth of the sun. Without raising so much as an eyelash...
"Hello Ferd, "he bellowed in that low slow West Country accent.
"Morning Jim," and I jumped up to join my good chum on the warmed stone.
We sat side by side, sharing the sunshine.
Two good ladies from St James' were tugging weeds from the rose bed, Mavis and Mabel. Mavis had blue hair.

"How's Doll, Ferd?"
"She's ok, Doll being Doll."
"And Lil ?"
"Ok, although shes gone deaf."
"Stone me."
"Yep, deaf."
"Well I'm sorry to hear that."

Mavis said, "I'm not getting that dandelion root up, they go deep they do and I'm not digging, you never know what'll come up in here; a bony finger breaking through the soil!"
"Could give us a hand with digging!"
"Er."
"Look at those two will you? looks like their having a conversation!" Mabel chuckled.
"What the F~+* do they think were doing?" Jim muttered
"No point whispering Jim, they can't understand us."
"I know! but for *~#+ sake!" His language as broad as his dialect. "Fancy coming down to mine and sharing a vole?"
"Fried or boiled?"
"Last one there is a mangy F*&$+*+# fleabag." Jimmy yelled leaping off our resting place, and we raced off to Jim's gaff. Through a break in the stone of the church and down to the cellar which housed gardening bits and bobs; Jim's bed was a seed tray made from pinewood with an old potato canvas sack for a blanket and protective cover against splinters from the rough wood.
"Look at them now Mave. They look like they got it up em. They dont like it up em ey Mave?"
"Pehaps they got the finger, the bony finger..."

Ferdinand ginger cat and the amazing dancing balls

I went on a quest, a quest to find new box. If something can't be found anywhere else then Knees is the place to go, Knees is an old department store, not a chain but a family based business that's been based in the town for over a hundred twenty five years. And that is the place I would begin my quest...

At the rear of the shop is the service entrance; stacked up are cardboard boxes sadly but neatly flattened and forming towers of cardboard. No good to me, I need a box shaped box. There were mansions of boxes with pictures of washing machines on the sides, wonderful, but they were stuffed with smaller flattened boxes and too heavy to shift. Not to worry something would turn up!

Venturing further, piled up right against the back wall was a jumble of boxes, paper and card. I could not see anything suitable but I was sure there would be something in that stack. Umm thats quite nice a bit small though. No good -I don't like the pattern on the side. No -that one has a dent. More crumpled paper, some corrugated paper, bits of string, ooo bubble wrap! I'll just push on a bit further still.

A stuffed plastic bag, great texture feels granular a bit like cat litter but warmer, I'll just give it the Ferdi stomp, left paw up, right paw down, right paw up, left paw down. In my rapture, I inadvertently punctured the bag! Well actually I pierced it in several places I just hadn't noticed until all these little white balls jumped out.

The more I tried to brush them off the more they stuck, the more they stuck the more I rubbed. I leapt from the pile and all the little balls jumped along with me, my very own shadow of jumping polystyrene balls. As I walked a column of bouncing balls followed in my wake. It was fantastic. I moved left, and a couple of sparks later everything fell into the Ferdi conger line of ginger cat and balls. I moved to the right... and hello? there's one little ball not playing along, I jumped on it gave it a quick rub and the balls in a frenzy of excitement regrouped and synchronised with my dance moves.

"You put your left paw in, your left paw out
In out, in out, you shake it all about
You do the Hokey Cokey and you turn around
That's what it's all about
Whoa-o the Hokey Cokey
Whoa-o the Hokey Cokey
Whoa-o the Hokey Cokey "

And all the balls joined in. I had quite forgotten where I was and this was a secret mission until... "What the bloody hell," emanated from a male human wearing large black boots and a dark blue uniform.
I stopped singing and just blinked through the blur of balls.
"What you done to yourself? You all stuck up mate? Lets give you a hand. Dunno why you came in 'ere anyway nothing ere for you. Come on let me brush you off and you can go on 'ome. Wish I had me camera wimme. (This was obviously a man of exquisite taste to recognize my superior feline qualities so quickly -though he was wearing a polyester suit!)

As soon as I got near him, all my coordinated rhythmic balls switched allegiance and leapt to their very newest chum Mr security guards trouser legs. Bereft of my dancing partners I padded homewards box less! Anyway, it was fun while it lasted and I left Mr security guard enjoying the company of the unique dancing balls trained by Ferdinand Ginger cat choreographer.

Do not disturb

Cat levitation the causes and cures?

Another sunny day, that is two in juxta pose. My position is laying upside down, legs a kimbo, on my conservatory roof; mopping up a pool of sunlight.

I'm a bit worried about big Lil, she's behaving oddly (more oddly than her normal idiosyncrasies allow) she levitated off the back of the sofa and hit Susan (female human of the household) on the back of the head with her flying furry body.

The second time -and fortunately there have only been two instances- She was in deep r.e.m sleep and snoring contentedly, seemingly quite composed. The next thing she's in the air -a splodgey cat hovercraft- and landed on her side on the floor (all cats land on their feet and although Lil is not your normal average moggy -and we are all used to perculiarities- this is very disquieting) it woke her up -not much does, apart maybe from the aroma of roasting chicken- and she lay prone for a good minute, then she wailed and wailed and then wailed some more. Fortunately I was on paw to administer support, unfortunately, Dolly attended too and shoved a thermometer up her bum. Not good!

I've checked on websites to see the nature of the complaint to form a proper diagnostic opinion but it's all standard stuff.
Bald patches.
Peeing problems and smells.
Projectile vomit.
Fleas, etc.
I thought maybe it could be something to do with her sudden deafness; a loss of balance, an inner ear problem, but that doesn't explain the vertical take off from a sleeping start. I pumped into google, cat levitation and was issued with magic tricks to perform with your feline friend... but although I am of course supremely talented and could master with ease the slight of paw skills needed to work with a magic obsessed human friend have no inclination to pull a rabbit from a hat. The image of Roland rabbit leaps scarily to mind -now that is an image to conjure with!

Ferdinand not a magician: seeking help -and not too proud to ask -cat levitation the causes and cures?

An army on the move!

A lovely warm sunny day. I'm sitting on a bench outside my conservatory, a platoon of ants are marching due northwest towards the green house. Another column marching due southeast are carrying bits of stuff along the Victorian brick path to their encampment under my conservatory. Anthony is carrying a huge white ball of something, I dont think he can see where he is going! he is wandering away from the rank-and-file; he is going in the wrong direction. Ant has just got stuck on a clump of moss. He is trying to move his prize white ball of something or other but it is stuck tight. A comrade comes to his aid and nudges the burden loose, Anthony is moving again, and steered by his ally makes it to the sandy hill, and the entrance to his camp. The convoy continues on.....Another soldier in the line of marching ants is carrying the body of a fallen comrade.

"Ferdi!"

"Dolly! Watch out, your paw, oooh."

The column breaks ranks. Many soldiers gather. Some carry bodies away. Others tend the maimed. One ant has a broken back and he twirls in circles his prize still in his jaws, desperate to rejoin the column he spins faster and faster pivoting on his narrow twisted waist.

My best Canadian chum Spunky would like to have a letter. I'm giving him the letter Z, (I wonder if I could use it later if I really needed to.) Ebra in the oo, well that's ok I could qualify it if I needed to; stripey horse in municipal game park. So Spunky, please have my letter Z, it is wrapped and ready to go but you just take good care of it you never know when it will come in useful, by the way I need your full address what is your ip code?

Ferdinand ginger cat philanthropist

A saving of 75,000 pounds in that sentence alone.

I have the best box ever, a fruit cocktail of a box. It's early morning and the sun is just breaking over the rooftops. I think I'll get up in a minute. Well i've thought about it and I think i'll stay here for a while longer. I'm in a very thoughtful mood.

I'm reflecting on words, thinking about if words have a price, and sentences a cost? And if words have a currency then can speech be free? So how much is freedom of speech worth?

A twelve-year-old boy who spoke the words Paki, and Bin Laden to a classmate was sent before the courts. Three words. How much did each of those words cost? Well there was a judge and a prosecution, defence, clerks and social workers, etc, 60.000 pounds -my guesstimate. That is 20.000 per word or 5,000 pounds a letter.

Words then have a price. Therefore, they can be traded, and the rich can afford to use bigger words than the poor, and stock markets flourish selling syllables. Perhaps words should be rationed so every body has a fair share. A day when no one can use vowels, perhaps

nd nthr dy whn prhps th lttr Z ws nt t sd.

Well that's quite good, sort of readable and i've made a saving of 75,000 in that sentence alone.
So when is freedom of speech not free? when there is a high price to pay. So perhaps it should be called expense of speech.

My musings have cost me 5,960,005, mind you, I have been prudent, this blog article was going to cost 13,098,095 until I edited it, very good value for money. I bet even Dickens did not make that much per book. Just wait till I tell Dolly how much my word's worth.

Ferdinand, the famous ginger cat economist.