You and Your Pussycat Face*

Well, going to try not to mention the s-word! The car's still stuck on the drive as the snow plough that has been doing the road has pushed up the compacted 'stuff' and it's about 18 inches deep. I just dont have it in me, physically or 'bovvered' enough, to dig my way out. There's some kind of freedom involved in having your options removed. I've been writing a list (yes!) of things I could/ought to do but so far all I've done this weekend is walk Alfie, read the papers, watch the telly and snooze. It's a hard knock life.

I do feel for the oldies though. There were two old ladies struggling past my house yesterday so I took their trolley (which I swear had a dead body in) and walked them the last few hundred yards up hill to their house. I'm what's known in the trade as a strapping lass and had to pull this trolley behind me with both hands. God knows how they'd made it from the Scotmid to my house with a trolley and walking sticks. Then an old fella with woefully inadequate shoes and clothes came along and I tried to help him down the big drop from the pavement to cross the road, I slowed the traffic down and all I got was abuse from the eejit who was travelling way to fast in the first place and resented having to slow down for this old man. Knob-end of the highest order.

Anyway, here's Archie who just made it easy for me this morning before I'd even had to get out of bed. Click. Tick.





What's New Pussycat, Tom Jones. 1965