80% Cat, 20% Book

I have just finished C. J. Sansom’s Tombland, 800-odd pages of social rebellion and murder, Tudor-style. Sansom’s Shardlake series are always well-researched page turners, but if you’ve not read any before you wouldn’t start here, so here’s a picture of the cover and my recommendation is if you like Sansom’s books, this is a good one, and better than the last. There, that’ll do. I think I’ve covered it.

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The reason for this rubbish post is currently sedated at the vets. Here is my Violet in her cat prison playing the role of The Ghost of Unexpected Christmas Expense, off to have her x-rays.

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Madam here got her back foot bitten by a bigger cat, and after a week of painkillers (£) and antibiotics (££) the swelling has gone down to reveal crunching bones (££££!). She will now be under house arrest for a month. For a farm cat, this is particularly traumatic (for both of us, I fear for the Christmas tree). When she stands by the door and wails, I give her tuna to placate her.

Meanwhile my dad has just badly broken his ankle, and so can’t drive, and even with all working limbs my mum can’t drive, and they live in the middle of nowhere. I’m pretty sure if my dad were to stand by the door and cry he’d be told to get over it and no tuna would be forthcoming. Largely because if you wrap him in a blanket he doesn’t look like this –

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So, a merry Christmas to all, and to all NO FIGHTING WITH CATS BIGGER THAN YOU. I’m not made of money.

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