tempus fugit

By ceridwen

An hole

I wish I had collected up all the pictures I've taken over the years of cat holes in barns and sheds and  outbuildings. Not sophisticated flaps for the domestic puss but rough-hewn access  points for farmyard moggies to do their job as vermin catchers. No doubt the cat hole has existed as long as people have had cats, and doors.

The oldest mention of a cat hole in literature  is in Chaucer's Miller's Tale, (14th century), a bawdy romp involving cuckoldry, farting and bare bottoms. A servant, trying to spy into a room, resorts to 

“An hole he foond, ful lowe upon a bord
Ther as the cat was wont in for to crepe"



Seen at Clynfyw Care Farm, a remarkable place that provides meaningful occupation and learning opportunities for vulnerable people deep in the North Pembrokeshire countryside. Once a grand estate, the big house was sold off and the agricultural and domestic outbuildings have been converted into residential accommodation, workshops and offices. Organic vegetables are grown, animals reared and apples turned into juice by the residents and staff. They also repair old wheelchairs and other aids to send to South Africa, and collect clothes for refugees.The atmosphere is always  cheerful, if slightly chaotic, and everyone seems to be enjoying what they do.

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