Archives For comedy

The 4th of July. 

Kittens are gone! Well, three of them are gone. Hopefully Bree will cope alright because she still has her mum. Also hoping this makes her more amenable to being petted!

This morning, I filled in the paperwork for Betsy’s adoption, and realised that I didn’t have any more PetPlan forms for this afternoon. I also checked the PetPlan website to make sure Brodie’s heart murmur would be covered if it doesn’t fix itself and it will. Phew. 

Linda came to pick up Betsy just before twelve, and had a great carrier that could fold away. We filled in the last bits of the form, and we got Betsy in there pretty easily after I gave her a quick hug. I have had a video of her playing in her new home so it looks like she’ll be okay. 

Rosemary came for lunch, so I had a bit of a chat with her before food, but I was in with the kittens when she left. This afternoon, I have been doing the second lot of paperwork and doing a blog post. Plus a couple of episodes of Orphan Black. 

The family adopting the other two came at quarter to six, and I got the bouncy toys out so the kittens didn’t run away. Bailey got in the carrier without a fuss and I tricked Brodie into a cuddle before popping him in. Now they’re all gone, I just hope they settle in okay!

The 5th of July. 

It’s so quiet now. I don’t think we’ll hear any thumping into the wardrobe with just Betsy and Bree here. They both favour lounging around as an activity; Betty because she is so chill, and Bree because she is just lazy. They can be slightly forgiven for that today though, considering the heat and their level of floof. 

I think that most of my day has been spent in front of the tennis. So far, we are doing well! It’s bound to all go wrong at some point but I can cling on to it for now. I did take a break when I went to moisturise my legs (no one wants to see flaky skin) and I put on some music, had a little dance to George Michael. 

Had an early dinner of cheese on toast with sultanas (if you have not discovered this sweet and savoury combination, prepare to have your tastebuds blown) because I was out at The Glee tonight, seeing Fin and Kiri’s works in progress of their Edinburgh shows. I had no trouble with being let in this time, and went to have a chat with them both pre-show. It was nice to see them without oxygen attached to my face and being able to walk around a bit. 

Both shows were excellent; if you are able to see the finished products either in Edinburgh or on tour, you should. At the end, I managed to escape without assistance, and waited for Daddy outside the back door. Funny how much safer I feel in the summer in my chair than in the winter on my legs. Harder to abduct and murder. 

The 29th of April.

Today has been so exhausting and so good.

I slept less well – super cold last night and no lung capacity to get more layers so I froze until I was too tired to care. This morning, I decided not to climb the stairs so as not to waste oxygen, so I just hung out in my bedroom until it was time for us to go out to see Tez Ilyas. He was great, as expected, i mean that’s going to be the case for every act I mention. I had to help him out at one point because the members of the audience he picked were not answering the question he asked correctly. Not paying enough attention!

He ran over slightly, so afterwards I literally just had time to grab a coffee before heading over to The Youth Wing to see Phil Wang. That was problematic, because the way I went meant I got stuck at a flight of stairs, but thankfully some very kind strangers offered to carry my chair down the steps (without me in it) and then I was back on my way. I got in and parked on the end of a row, and ended up with various members of sketch groups Pappy’s and Daphne to my right, with Tom Parry sprawled across the floor, snorting with laughter. For a work in progress, it was pretty slick, and I’ll be keeping a lookout for the finished product on tour.

I had Lolly Adefope straight after in The Canteen, so I left The Youth Wing the way I should have gone in, so I could get myself some more coffee before making my way back round to the other side of the school. On the way, I bumped into one of the women I hung out with last night, and she was going to Lolly too.

Coffee in hand, I drove down to The Canteen to join the queue. Being in the chair, I got moved to the front, which turned out to be a blessing and a curse. She was due to start at 4, but there were technical issues – there were cables that were needed and I watched people running back and forth trying to get hold of the right ones. This went on for just over an hour, and every time somebody came back, the hearts of the queue lifted, only to fall again when the doors didn’t open. I felt really bad for the guy who was checking the tickets – he knew nothing more than we did, and there wasn’t really anything he could do, I could hear people behind me getting (understandably) frustrated because this was going to impact upon their attendance of their next show, so they were having to decide who they wanted to see more. I was okay to wait, because my next show wasn’t until 7.15, and I was glad I did.

Her show is a reply to her reviews from her last show at the Fringe, in which she was criticised for not referring to her race enough and for talking about it too much. It would be like me doing a show and discussing or not discussing my disability. I have to applaud her too for her excellent singing, and for dealing with groups of people leaving towards the end of the show. Super impressed.

It ended just before six, and I was starving, having only had coffee since my crumpet at breakfast time. I got myself a smoky sausage in a bun (relatively easy to eat and no danger of spice) and ate it while watching all the fun dogs around. I even met a famous dog, Rosie, who is regularly heard on Rhod Gilbert’s Saturday morning show. She is a very good dog.

My next show, The Griefcast with Cariad Lloyd, was up stairs, but when checking the venues yesterday I’d been informed that there was a lift I could use. Today there was a worry because they had put an Out of Order sign on the door, but that was just to put able-bodied people off using it. Sneaky.

It was a small room and VERY HOT. Lots of people crammed in. The guests were Phil Wang, Kiri Pr’chard-McLean and Nish. Usually, the show is Cariad interviewing a comedian about a particular death, but today the topic was just death in general. In an amusing fashion. The last topic was “last words”, and Cariad asked them all what theirs would be. Phil missed a trick with his answer, and Cariad asked if there were any questions. I put my hand up and Nish pointed me out. I could have asked something poignant, but I had to say that surely, Phil’s last words should be “Wang out.” I saw the pun and had to say it. I don’t know if it’ll be on the podcast but I hope so. The only time I think my brain has worked that fast.

My next show wasn’t until 11.30 and also included Nish in the line up, so he met me back downstairs and the rest of the evening is a blur of faces and saying “Nice to meet you.” I did mean it each time, I just met a lot of people! We went to the bar in Y Plas where pretty much every comic at the show was.

Honestly I couldn’t tell you what we talked about, I just remember that for once, I wasn’t telling the story of my life ten thousand times, people just treated me like I as part of the gang and that pretty much never happens with people who don’t know me. It was just the most fun.

My oxygen ran out in the middle of Beat This, so I had to text Mommy and get her and Daddy to come and swap it over for a new one. I thought that might be enough to tide me over, but thinking about getting the taxi back on my own, having to deal with the chair, I just knew that it was going to be horrific. I cancelled the car, and sneaked out the side door. Knackered, but elated.

The 30th of April.

Going home early. It’s fine, we just don’t have enough oxygen for me to do another night.

We had to get into Mach earlier today, because there was a massive cycling race that started in the town and was going to close the road that we use to come in on. We got in at about eleven, and I sat in the car while Mommy and Daddy went to get coffee and some sort of breakfast pastries. I ate my co-op cinnamon swirl, then set off to Y Tabernacl for Pappy’s Flatshare Slamdown. Matthew and Ben said hi on their way in, and when the queue started to move, I went over to the lift to go up half a floor so I could enter the hall. There was a step down to the pews, so I just parked my chair at the best vantage point. Josh was a guest, and he saw me so he came over. Kiri was meant to be on the show but had yet to arrive, so other comedians were being texted en masse. Who turned up but ol’ Nishy Kumar? Kiri appeared shortly after, so we just got an extra person’s-worth of funny for free. I had a joyous time, particularly enjoying the quickfire round jingle that Tom and Ben recorded with Nish and Josie last night at Y Plas when Josie was full of Pinot Noir. I can’t wait to hear it when it goes out.

They ran over, as one has to expect, so then I had to bomb it down a rather steep hill to The Mach Arena for Josh and Friends. The wheelchair view in there was less good, but enough that I could just about see. We had stand-up from Josh, Matthew Crosby, Nish and James Acaster, then he read out some classic scrapes from his book which are all hysterical.

Upon coming out, I bumped into Amy, and we talked while Mommy and Daddy went to get food. I informed her of the racist attack Nish had just endured (Josh threw a massive ball at him but he was not injured), then they went to get lunch and we went to eat ours. We discussed oxygen levels, and we only had one full bottle left, so came to the conclusion that I only really had one more show left in me. Mommy and Daddy went back to the house to pack up, and I went to get more coffee and see who I could see before it was time for Sara Pascoe.

Happily, a lot of my lovely pals were still around, so there was Nish, Josh, Fin, Tom, a whole host of people. We whiled away the time together until everyone had to beetle off to our respective shows, and I left loving my wonderful gang.

Sara was fantastic as always, and I look forward to seeing the finished piece when she takes it on tour. I didn’t have time to hang around to see her afterwards because Daddy was coming to pick me up. We returned to the house, packed everything into the car, and we set off on the long drive home. I am so happy and I’ve had such an incredible weekend – definitely going again next year. Hopefully without any extra oxygen.

The 25th of April.

Everything hurts today. I am tender all over. My body did not like being invaded so I am being a delicate flower.

My day has been punctuated by half-hourly squeezing of a stress ball with my arm up in the air. It is the only thing I can do that might make my arm go down. I’m not convinced it is going to work but I am desperately hanging on to anything that may make a difference. If this doesn’t work, I don’t know what I will do.

This afternoon, I wrote about yesterday’s procedure, then I went to sit with Sam for a couple of hours. I watched Netflix, and he kneaded my lap which I tolerated until it hurt. Pointy claws of a heavy kitty on wound sites are not good.

I just feel very sad. Maybe tomorrow will be better. We’re off to Machynlleth on Thursday for the comedy festival there and I really don’t want to feel like shit. 

The 26th of April.

Measured my arm this morning. Still exactly the same. I am not expecting it to improve, but I’ll carry on with the compression and the squeezing for a few more days, then I’ll ring Andrew’s secretary and make sure my appointment is on the way because he’s going to have to come up with a new plan. I cannot go to John and Maddie’s wedding with one huge arm, even if it will be full of medics.

So this morning I was sad about my arm and had a bit of a cry before I came downstairs. Breakfast, then I wrote up the blog post about the venoplasty while I watched new Pretty Little Liars and iZombie. I did a lot of shouting at the latter because Peyton is being a moron.

After lunch, I sorted out what clothes I’m going to take to Mach and printed out all the tickets for the shows I’m going to, using up a small tree in the process. Then I went to give Sam some attention and a brush because we were taking him to Lee’s to stay with her while we’re away and I thought he ought to look nice.

I am sick to death of living in baggy clothes. A third of the year has passed and I haven’t felt good about my body for a single day.

The 30th of March. 

Fairly acceptable breathing today. I’m on 0.5 litres of oxygen. Normal air is not quite oxygenated enough for me. 

I at least had a better sleep, and this morning I got a blog post done and not much else. I had another appointment (which I had entirely forgotten about) at the Women’s at half past one, so we ate our lunches and got on our way. Thankfully no hellish traffic jams today, but there was nowhere to park so Mommy pulled over, I drove off in my chair with the oxygen on the back and she found somewhere to put the car. 

I was seeing Miss Byrom for a follow-up after the procedure I had in November, and Sue, the sexual health nurse, was there too. I said that I thought it had been successful, but only up to a point. She examined me, using a very small speculum and a very long swab, and it turns out part of me has sealed up again. JOY. It’s to do with a thing I have called lichen planus and it’s just another stupid thing that I have that has no cause. I have to carry on with the dilators, and she’s going to talk to a plastic surgeon about me to see if he has any ideas. 

Too many things wrong with me right now. I feel like a collection of conditions rather than a human woman. 

The 31st of March. 

Today was the most normal I have felt in a while. My sats were good enough for me to not need extra oxygen for most of the day. I’m on it now, but still, it’s been a good day. 

This morning, I didn’t fancy watching Eamonn and Ruth be unbearable, so I caught up on The Magicians and did some mindless crocheting. After this project, I really need to make something for nurse Jenny’s baby and for James. I also had issues with Vue and their stupid website trying to book tickets for Ghost in the Shell. 

It’s an odd sort of film. I kind of get the premise and I found it interesting, but I didn’t really see the point. Having done some research, I think it’s too large a story and world to cram into a 100 minute film. One thing I did like was the choice Scarlett Johansson made to lead her walk with her head. It was curious because the company in the film go to so much effort to make Major appear human, but her walk was so unwomanly. Hm. 

Tonight I am going out to The Glee to see Fin Taylor and Mat Ewins, but there is no way I am climbing the stairs, so I’m going in the chair and have arranged for someone to let me up in the lift. Then tomorrow I will feel terrible, I suspect. 

The 16th of February. 

We have a plan. In fact, we have many plans! I got called in pretty much straight away again (I do like the promptness of Andrew’s clinic) and first off, he was really very annoyed that I hadn’t heard from the compression garment people, so he fired off what I think was a politely passive-aggressive email immediately. I went on to explain how it’s affecting my breathing and mental health, and I didn’t cry, but I wobbled. He went back into my pictures, and we talked about my contrast allergy again. I showed him the pictures of the rash and he agreed that I cannot have the iodine-based contrast, so we have four other options available: carbon dioxide, which they would watch displace the blood, measuring the pressure in the veins, the gadolinium (the MRI dye they usually use on me) and IVUS, which is intravascular ultrasound, where they put an ultrasound probe inside the vein and get pictures that way. Then it really depends on what they find, but he’s going to try to sort it out asap, because he now understands how debilitating it is for me. We have to wait for him to talk to the people who make IVUS because it’s not a standard going they have in the hospital. I left feeling much better. 

Then, on the way out, I got a call from the compression garment people! They were very apologetic and asked if I could go there right then, so we turned right back around. I went to the orthotics department and booked in with the receptionist. Again, I was called in super fast, and the nice man took lots of measurements of my arm. He’s ordered it today, and has asked them to get it sent out express, so I’m hoping they’ll call me back early next week? I have to wear it 24/7, so that will be fun. 

Afterwards, we went back to Andrew to let him know that it had happened, and he was delighted. Polite passive-aggressiveness works!

We went into town so I could get Penny a birthday card, then by the time we got home, I was starving. Lunch was most welcome. Then this afternoon, I watched the series finale of No Offence, and worked more of the complex, fine wool doily. Hand cramp ahoy. 

The 17th of February. 

Well, I have my compression garment. It is not my favourite.

I got a phone call just after eleven from Chris, the guy I saw yesterday. My sleeve was in, when could I go in to collect it? I suggested two o’clock which he was happy with, and I hung up still in shock at how quickly it has happened. 

We went out straight after lunch, and were waiting for a little while but kept amused by the nonsensical rolling news along the bottom of the screen (“Armed with a machine to pick cows up and an angle grinder, man gives cows pedicures.” “A nationwide depot search was conducted but the painting was never found.” “The club described the player as having a contagious energy and sense of humour which lit up a room.”). 

After twenty minutes, he came to get me, and proceeded to fit the sleeve. I do not look forward to us having to do it – it’s so much harder than the TED stockings. He said the most common injury in their department is ruptured fingers – dislocated knuckles and torn ligaments from pulling garments up people’s limbs. I have to wear it all the time except in the shower. God. 

Once it was on and in the right place, we went into town again to take back a jumper I’d ordered (did not resemble website photo), and I got a different one which will also go back because the arms aren’t big enough. 

This evening, I was out at The Old Rep to see Josie Long, supported by Tez Ilyaz. There was little traffic, so I arrived ridiculously early. To fill the time, I got myself a glass of wine and read the little programme Josie had made. When the doors opened, she was doing pre-show karaoke, which was basically her singing along to the Pina Colada song on her phone. Such fun!

She did a bit, then Tez did his bit (which was very good, I am going get tickets from him at Machynlleth), then it was interval time. I had to pee, and on the way to the toilet I saw Malcolm, who I used to hang out with back when I was at school and was one of the photographers at Becky and James’ wedding. Then, when I came out, I was recognised by Bryony, a nurse from the QE who I love dearly and haven’t seen for ages. Bonus, unexpected chat, so that was an added delight to the evening. 

Josie then came on and did her show, and I just love her. She is such a font of positivity and optimism but also rage, which is what we need when the world feels so terrible. She ended on a high note of an audience sing-a-long to Take That’s Never Forget, and as people filed out they all wanted photos and to talk which she gladly took part in, and I climbed up the stairs to the stage so we could catch up. I met Tez, and Josie’s boyfriend Johnny, and we talked about the show and Mach. They tidied up the stage, removing all her banners, and we ambled out of stage door where there were still some very dedicated fans waiting. 

I am not looking forward to sleeping with this thing on my arm. 

The 18th of November.

Today has not gone at all how I expected. Up at half past five, at the Women’s by half seven. Mommy came up to the ward with me (mainly because I couldn’t carry my overnight bag on the chair), then left me with a couple on my right and one in the far corner. The nurse (whose name I can’t remember) came to clerk me in, and was amazed by my history (as are most people). She was grateful for my drugs list, gave me a red wristband (allergies), then the healthcare assistant, Mercy, came to do my obs and bring me my anti-DVT stockings. While getting changed, I took a sneaky sip of water to help my dry mouth, then I sat and listened to the corner couple having a hushed, Jeremy Kyle-style domestic. She was really stressed about whatever she was having done, and he was telling her to “Just deal with it like everybody else in here.”, which was not very helpful. They both wanted each other to fuck off, but she also wanted him to be able to stay because she’d freak out if left alone. I gleaned that she wants a hysterectomy but nobody will do that because she’s only 23. Poor girl.

Miss Byrom and Gerwyn the anaesthetist came to see us all individually. She just ran through with me again what she was going to do – remove/separate the adhesions, attempt to do a smear, and take biopsies if deemed necessary. Gerwyn was very nice (as are all the anaesthetists I’ve met) and he was glad to have my latest lung function results. He mentioned that he wouldn’t be intubating me (for a short sleep I’d bloody well hope not), just putting down a smaller breathing tube. That was fine.

I was second on the list, so while I waited to be taken down, I decided to use the time productively and do a blog post. While I was writing, the girl in the corner came to the conclusion that she didn’t want to stay, but before she came back, the porter came and he and Mercy took me down to theatre.

I moved over to the theatre gurney, and was wheeled into the anaesthetic room. I met some new people, confirmed my identity and what I was having done, then Gerwyn had to find somewhere to cannulate me. The first vein didn’t want to co-operate, then the one on the other hand was only too happy to squirt blood everywhere. Still, it was in, then he gave me some morphine to relax me, put the mask over my face emitting gas that smelled of vanilla, and off to sleep I went.

I awoke maybe 45 minutes later, conscious that some time had passed but not long. No dreams. I was acutely aware that things were inside me and that I needed the toilet. I was told that in theatre they had put a catheter and a pack in, which would be pressing on my rectum which was why I felt like I needed to poo. The nurse in recovery was pleased with how awake I was and that I was drinking and talking, so she called the ward and the other nurse looking after me (Rachel) came down. I asked her if the lady in the corner had stayed and it turned out she had. Change of heart. The boyfriend had had to leave though because them’s the rules. She checked the inco-pad underneath me and we found that the catheter had come undone, so she screwed it back together and changed the pad so I had a clean bed.

Back on the ward, they said I would have to stay for at least six hours, until half past four, when they could take the pack out, then the catheter, and I’d have to pee without it. This was not great news but fine, I could deal with it, I just had to adjust my position regularly. It was really, very uncomfortable, and the need to poo did not abate at all. I was brought some tea and toast which at least made my tummy stop rumbling. I texted Mommy and Christine to let them know how I was, and finished off the blog post. Visiting started at 2, so I asked Mommy if she’s come then with some coffee and lunch. To pass the time, I worked on my Christmas scarf and tried to ignore my discomfort.

When she arrived, I explained in more detail what had happened this morning and told her about the whispered argument in the corner (which seemed to have been forgotten when he returned). I drank my peppermint mocha and ate my panini, all the while wriggling around. I tweeted and crocheted, and we kept hearing the nurse ring a particular doctor about him coming to see the lady in the other corner, then she could leave. She waited for him for four hours, and in the end, he didn’t even show up, just gave some instructions on what she needed to do. I would have been fuming.

By ten past four, I was counting down the minutes until we could take the pack out. I was the only one left in the bay by this point, so I could be plenty vocal about my need to have to removed. Thankfully, at half four on the dot, Rachel was all ready to do it. The curtains got pulled round, I pulled the sheet down and spread my legs. She put a sick bowl down for the pack to go in, and started pulling out the gauze. I have never, ever experienced anything like it. There was so much pain as it ripped away from the skin inside my vagina, and seemed to go on forever, like when a magician pulls a string of flags from his sleeve. In a way it did seem like magic because I have no idea how they fit so much in there. At one point, we got to a knot where it emerged that there were two packs tied together and we were only halfway through! I was in absolute agony but I told her to keep going because I just needed it to be over. When she’d finished, the blood-soaked gauze filled the sick bowl and I didn’t even feel any of the relief that I’d expected, just sheer trauma. Thank fuck I never have to give birth because that was one of the worst things I have ever been through.

I was still bleeding a lot, so we didn’t take out the catheter in case they had to put another pack in. I really did not want this to happen and I willed my body to stop. Thankfully, it did slow down, and by the time Miss Byrom came round, it was at a much more acceptable rate. She had prescribed some topical estrogen cream and explained how to use it, and gave me a slightly more graphic description of what had happened in theatre. Basically, there was only a tiny amount of vagina that was open, maybe a centimetre, and she really just had to stick her finger through and rip me apart. Brutal, but the only way. Also, they couldn’t see any hint of my cervix or the coil, but they’re definitely in there. Just don’t know how we’ll get them out when it comes to that. Still, she was happy with how I was, so the catheter and cannulas could be removed. Then I would just have to wee and I’d be able to go home! I didn’t expect this to be a problem as I’d been drinking all afternoon, but my bladder was not keen on letting any of it go.

I managed one rather small wee, which was not adequate, then I just had to drink more. I drank glass after glass, watching the clock because I really wanted to get to The Glee to see Tom and Suzi for 8. About 10 past 7, my stomach was as tight as drum with the amount of water filling it up, and I went to see if there was anything to be done that might help. I couldn’t have any diuretics, but Rachel was happy that I had at least done a wee and was confident that I was sensible enough to know what to do if anything seemed wrong.

I went for one more pitiful try, then Mommy and I took the paperwork and cream, and off to The Glee we went! I decided that I would text Suzi and ask her if she could get a member of staff to let me in the back door so I could go up in the lift and not have to climb the stairs, which she very obligingly did.

This meant I was the first one in, and for a little while, I sat alone in the studio while an excellent playlist of musical theatre tunes played. I couldn’t do the kicks on stage that I might have, but I did take a selfie because I’m cool. Then the room started to fill up, and Tom and Suzi appeared! The format was essentially intro, Suzi’s show, interval, Tom’s show. They were both equally hilarious and thought-provoking and delightful in different ways, and I enjoyed myself immensely. I popped into the dressing room at the interval to say hello and have hugs and chats, and I got to wang on about my very strange day.

Time flew by, and suddenly it was time for part two, so we had group hug and a photo before Tom’s half. I think his show was longer than Suzi’s, and by the time it was curtain down, it was nearly eleven o’clock and I was very ready to go to bed. So tired. But I was really happy I got to finish my day laughing so much with my lovely pals.

The 19th of November.

Well I don’t feel great. Having got in late, I thought I’d sleep really well, but all that water caught up with me and I woke up four times to pee. Did not want to wake up at half nine when my alarm went off but I thought I should.

I stayed in my pyjamas all morning, feeling rather delicate and taking things slowly. Mommy and I caught up on I’m A Celebrity, and I finished crocheting the tiny Christmas tree for inside a bauble. Lunchtime came round quickly, and it felt like a beans on toast kind of day. Warm, cosy food.

This afternoon, I had a go with the topical estrogen. It didn’t work quite the way I thought it would with the dilator, so tomorrow I’ll try the applicator that was provided. It certainly went in a lot further than it used to, so the surgery definitely did its job. I was glad I decided to it on a towel as I am still bleeding and had I not, I would have ruined a duvet cover. Admittedly only a rather unexciting one from Tesco, but still.

I then spent a good couple of hours writing four and half pages about yesterday. I really hope you enjoy all the detail. When I’d finished, I finally read this morning’s paper, and made the penultimate bauble. Just one left to go, for the tree to go in. It might have to be a special one because a) I have run out of outer bauble wool and b) the tree seems too big to fit in the same size as the rest.

I think it might be somewhat longer than I thought until I am back at the gym.

The 12th of November. 

So the adoption didn’t go ahead last night because the lady’s daughter (who was driving her) got stuck at work so they’re coming this evening. 

I ended up arriving at the mac before Nish, but I had a nice time with a kitty who was sitting outside courting attention. A very big pretty floofer. 

We met up and went to the theatre, but then had to shout down to someone to let us in. The tech guy materialised and opened the doors, then Nish ran through the music and lighting cues with him before we went to his dressing room. We had tea and talked (inevitably) about Trump, still unable to really comprehend it, then quickly moved onto lighter subjects like Joel going to the jungle, other reality TV shows, the shows of other comics, his mum’s appearance on It’s Not What You Know, The Outcast Comic, all sorts of junk. I love him, we have such a good time. 

Obviously the show was excellent, and even improved by an appearance from an audience member who called himself “The General” looked like an Asian version of Angelos. He started interjecting in a rather nonsensical manner and ended up closing the first half with an utterly dreadful freestyle rap which rendered us all helpless. Amazing. 

Today has not been as fun. Amy got adopted this morning, which was not easy – she had to be pushed into the carrier. I did chuck a lot of treats in to make it better. I think she’ll be fine – happy to get away from the kittens!

I then had the rest of the day to myself, as Mommy and Daddy got invited by Uncle Peter (who is not technically my uncle) to go and see Kiss Me Kate by the WNO so they’ve been there since lunchtime. I have filled my time crocheting my Christmas scarf, watching Rise of the Guardians and eating chocolate buttons. I also went to give all the kittens a good stroke and a fuss to make sure they were okay, but they don’t seem to have noticed Amy’s gone. Which is good, to be honest. 

Now just waiting for Ava and Amira’s adopter to arrive. I hope someone in the family has an email address. 

The 13th of November. 

Today certainly ended unexpectedly. I sat with Archie this morning because he was making lots of sad noises after his sisters were adopted. We took the cage down, he has been having lots of fun (in between the sad mews) rampaging around the room. 

My back has been terrible since Friday night – I think the seats at the mac are to blame – so I spent my afternoon in a comfortable chair, crocheting things which I then unravelled. I eventually started working on some Christmas baubles, when my phone rang. It was the adopter from last night, and she told me I had to have Ava back because she’d gone mental and taken a chunk out of her finger. I was very taken aback by this, and said I’d have to speak to one of my colleagues and get back to her. I rang Shaki, and we decided she’d come to my house and we’d go and assess the situation together. 

When we arrived, we ascertained what had happened, and made the decision that we would refund their money and take both of the kittens back. (Obviously a lot more than this happened but I can’t put it on here. Sorry, I wish I could share!)

Now I have three kittens again, Archie is thrilled to have his pals back, and everything is fine.