Stars at elbow and foot

My poor old MBNAD woman has been having a sad time and she had this thing called flue. You couldn’t actually see the chimney but it made her wheeze an awful lot so I guess it was there. Perhaps she hawked it up when she was having one of those big cough and spit things. Anyway, the chimney’s gone.

At the same time as she was in the chimney-way, she was very, very sad and I have tried to make her better by leaning on her leg. The Princess suggested that I try one of those full-on snogs that she used to do but I don’t think I could get away with that.

We haven’t been able to be There while she had the chimney and sad stuff but I can see that she’s filling up the bag to go There so perhaps we’ll be off soon. I know that once we get there, she’ll be able to be happier.





We've had snow while she had the chimney. I like snow, chortles the Princess. Snow angels. Always made snow angels. Of course, there's a big royal tradition of snow activities. She does talk some pretentious claptrap. Used to go orrff piste. Yup well, I went off-piste and made some yellow snow.















The Little Dark One has been around a lot. Sometimes she’s with the Man with the Cat and sometimes with us. When she stays with the Man with the Cat, she comes to see me instead of my DB. Then off we go for a walk or even ball throwing and then I go to the Man with the Cat’s house where the Cat swears at me.


She's working on something called a Dizzy Station. When she’s busy with it, she sits in front of her wall-string-word-box with heaps of books and lots of cups of tea. Then she mumbles a lot of cat words, then she writes words, reads a bit and mumbles more cat words. Then the cat comes in and sits on the letter buttons on the wall-string-word-box. I lean against her leg to show I’m being supportive. Something I’ve noticed, bitches like you being “supportive”. Now I’m a new man, or at least the bits of the old man have gone, I notice this sort of thing. But not enough to get chatted up by the Dog with Leanings.

The Man with the Cat has had a very sad week. Old bloke, his Sire, Grandsire to the Litter, gone. I know, says the Princess, he’s become like me now. Yes, quite. And they were all sad when it happened to you so it’s made them all very sad. I think that they put him in a garden somewhere. The Litter were both here. The Tall One stopped looking for Hot Pixies all last week and came to stay. They kept going off to do things looking after the Man with the Cat’s Dam.


Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

MBNAD woman doesn’t have a Sire or a Dam but I guess she must have done once. Nope, says HRH, she was crocheted. She always said so. What a lot of right royal nonsense she talks. Small humans are made in the same way as puppies, and it ain’t got anything to do with handicrafts.