Dave's Day

Dave the cat was having a lazy morning relaxing on his favourite cushion when I ambushed him. Before he knew it he was bundled into the cat carrier and we were heading for the vet's. Disaster struck when I drew into the car park, Dave who is always travel sick vomited through the bars of his carrier and all over the gear leaver, thank goodness I always carry wet wipes and bin bags!

We went in to see the vet, he looked at Dave's few remaining teeth and Dave managed to run through his entire repertoire of swear words while his mouth was being held open. Much to his disgust the vet decided that he needs to have his teeth out, so he will have a course of antibiotics and the deed will be done at the end of next week, Dave particularly objected to the instruction that he has to starve from 6pm the previous evening! It sounds dramatic to remove his teeth, but he only has two teeth and a couple of stumps where the roots are still in his jaw, a legacy from his time as a stray. Apparently cats cope quite well without teeth. It will cost a small fortune, but it will be worth it if it makes him more comfortable, he has only been with us since last November, but I really love him. I told Robbie that Dave would have to have false teeth and he believed me! When we got home Dave took himself to bed and stayed there all day, he was cross with me for plotting against him, but by tea time he was back to his usual hungry self!

Difficult Negotiations

When I got home from work this evening Robbie had steak and chips waiting for me, it was lovely but I couldn't help wondering what he had done – I don't usually get that sort of treatment. I know Robbie well enough to know that I wouldn't have to wait long to find out what was on his mind, and before I had even finished my meal he announced that there is a rail tour from Wolverhampton to Cleethorpes called the Meridian Mariner that is due to take place right in the middle of our holiday in Norfolk. and he disparately wants to go! I can't say I'm overjoyed about it, but he can go if he wants to. There is just one thing he needs to understand – it will cost him much more than steak and chips!!

More Cat Trouble.

This morning Robbie got up and went down to feed the cats as usual, but Dave was nowhere to be found. I thought perhaps he was hiding because that three letter word beginning with 'v' was mentioned yesterday and if he gets a hint that he is going there he hides. I wasn't too bothered because his appointment is not until Wednesday morning so I thought he would come out of hiding in due course.

I went out of the front door shortly before Robbie was due to leave the house and I found a gift laid out on the door step, a nice juicy dead mouse! Robbie recoiled in horror and I despatched it to a better place (the dustbin). As soon as I saw the mouse I knew that Dave must have got out somehow, he doesn't go out because of his poorly feet and he is usually very happy to stay at home. I went out looking under cars and in sheltered spots for him, but there was no sign of him. Laura and Sam searched all over the house for him without success and I became increasingly worried about him. I kept checking the street and the garden but there was no trace of him. Then at about 11am there was a strange light knocking noise at the front door. I opened the door and in walked Dave as if it was the most normal thing in the world. He swore menacingly at Oreo as he walked past him, he went to the kitchen for a late breakfast, then after a quick wash he settled in his favourite spot to enjoy the sunshine. Hopefully he will not feel the need to go off on any on any more adventures.

Catastrophe!

Robbie will be returning to work tired (as promised) and wounded. I was only indirectly responsible for his injury, it happened when I called him to rescue a kamikaze cat. After a lazy morning, I took possession of the bathroom and I was just about to get in the bath when I realised that there was something moving on the ledge outside. It was Oreo, he must have scrambled through the tiny top window and he was poised on the edge of the ledge ready to jump on to the paved area far below. I opened the larger window but he wouldn't come in, my and fear for his safety combined with fear of the vet bills if he survived the jump.

I was not prepared to scare the neighbours by hanging out of the window in a state of undress so I yelled for Robbie to help me. He sprinted up the stairs (clad only in pants) and reached out of the window and along the ledge and grabbed the cat. Oreo found himself flying through the air held only by the scruff of his neck, he is not used to such harsh treatment and he panicked. His legs flailed but there was nothing solid for him to grab. Then as Robbie swung him in through the window he realised that he was dangling over a full bath, and not being keen on total immersion he lurched to one side and sunk his claw into Robbie's chest. In a split second Robbie yelped and the cat fell to the floor and fled. A torrent of abuse followed and then Robbie clutched his chest and danced on one leg unable to adequately express his agony.

Oreo had come within an inch or so of piercing Robbie's left nipple! Robbie stood there admiring his wound and telling me over and over again that the claw had punctured the skin twice, it went right through his skin like a needle. I offered him a plaster, but he wasn't brave enough, he would have needed a general anaesthetic to remove it from his hairy chest! Since then Oreo has kept a safe distance from Robbie, but they have traded insults from opposite corners of the room.

A Cunning Plan

I have had enough, I'm starting a campaign to get Robbie to look for another job! I have never met anyone more passionate about his work than Robbie and I'm used to him leaving early in the morning or coming home late. I can't count the number of times I've had to 'put his dinner in the dog' or make last minute changes to the evening meal. Even when he gets home, his work often comes with him. Today he was struggling to find a solution to a particularly challenging problem with his December 09 timetable. He wandered around Morrisons muttering to himself about why this or that solution wouldn't work, he got some funny looks from other shoppers, but he was too engrossed in his timetable to notice or to care. His eureka moment came in the yoghurt section when he suddenly announced to anyone who cared to listen “Yes! That could be possible, it could work”. By now I was convinced the store staff were ready to call for the men in white coats, so I hurried him through the checkout and out to the car. He continued his discussion with nobody in particular and by the time we got home he seemed to have settled on a possible solution.

Robbie was exhausted after his 18 hour endurance test on Thursday when he went to visit Network Rail in Leeds, but he still got up early and rushed off to work on Friday morning. By the time he got home in the evening he was too tired and too wound up to eat! He has a reputation to maintain so he managed a few mouthfuls, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. The early starts don't bother him, they don't even bother me very much and we cope when he is late home, I am used to it. The thing that really bothers me is seeing him work so hard and not be appreciated, in fact on Friday it was worse than that, not only did his efforts go unnoticed, but he got moaned at for something that he knew nothing about and was not his responsibility. I know they have had to cope with difficult circumstances, and Robbie has willingly put in time and effort to make things work, but this has been going on for almost a year now and he is being taken for granted, I know he thinks he is Superman, but he can't do the impossible!

It may take me a while to get Robbie to see things my way – but he usually does in the end! In the meantime I have a strategy. Robbie arrived home totally exhausted on Friday evening, he is no use to me in that state. After a good night's sleep and a haircut his strength was restored, but I have plans, he will be totally worn out by the time he goes back to work on Monday morning. Why should they have the best of him? I didn't choose a 'toy boy' just to watch him sleep all weekend!

Robbie's random information for the week was imparted in the middle of the night. Just before 1am on Saturday morning he woke briefly to inform me that 'they have sweeteners reduced at Tesco in Leeds' I'm not sure why I needed to know that, but before I could ask he was sleeping soundly again.

Mr Angry!

Robbie's trip to Leeds turned out to be a bit of an endurance test, he had to be up at 4.30am in order to be at the station in time for his train and he didn't arrive home again until nearly midnight. He was very tired but he was still talking about trains, he went on and on ...... and on about his December 08 timetable and the various problems he has to resolve. I am not that interested in the intricacies of timetable planning at the best of times, and I'm even less interested after midnight! I tried to get him to shut up, I even asked if he had mistaken me for Barry Doe, but that proved to be a big mistake. The mention of his name provoked a torrent of loud and very angry speech, I didn't understand the individual words, it sounded as if he was speaking 'Klingon' but the meaning was obvious - Barrie Doe was not in Robbie's good books! It was past midnight, but Robbie presented me with the offending article in Rail Magazine, Barry Doe was scathing about the pricing structure of Cross Country tickets. More words of 'Klingon' followed, then someone must have flicked a switch and Robbie lurched into fast forward mode and he began what promised to be a very long tirade about the inadequacies of the franchise process. I keep emergency supplies to cope with this type of crisis, there is only one proven way to make Robbie stop talking – feed him! Soon afterwards peace was restored and Robbie was tucking in to ham and mushroom tagliatelle. As for Barry Doe, I think he is quite funny when he has a rant, he is a bit like a Jack Russel terrier, he can't resist biting whichever ankle happens to be nearest. He may say that he wishes that Virgin had not lost the Cross Country franchise now, but he as been fairly nasty to them in the past.

What a Difference an 'S' Makes!

Robbie had an early start this morning because he is going to Leeds to visit Network Rail and you know what that means – the railway will probably grind to a halt! Every time Robbie goes north disaster strikes and they have points failure or power lines down.

As I began writing I automatically wrote Network Fail instead of Rail, that is how they are filed away in my brain and that is how I think of them, not that I think about them at all unless I am forced to! Anyway it reminded me that I came close to disaster when writing the blog the other day. I always use the spell check, but if you accidentally miss type a word that happens to be a different word the spell check will not highlight the problem. I read what I have written, but as I know what I intended to say I sometimes read what I expect to see instead of what I actually wrote. I had intended to write 'Robbie woke with a start' but just before I added the item to the blog I spotted my mistake, I had written 'Robbie woke with a tart'. That would certainly have set tongues wagging!

A Load of Rubbish

Laura told me that someone from Network Rail came in to her school yesterday to talk about their engineering apprenticeships. Laura is doing maths and science A Levels so she is probably the sort of candidate they would like to attract and I was interested in her reaction. She told me it was a big turn off, as it sounded excruciatingly boring and it didn't lead to a high enough qualification. It certainly didn't sound like an attractive proposition to her and her friends. Young people who have worked hard to achieve good A Level results want to go on to university to get a good degree, yet oddly Network Rail did not provide them with information about their graduate scheme. Laura was also put off by the O2 apprenticeship scheme, she said that it sounded more attractive than the Network Rail option, but the fly in the ointment for her was the requirement to live in Slough and she said that nothing in the world would induce her to do that. She claims not to be very keen on English Literature, but she would probably enjoy John Betjemen's poem about Slough!

Network Rail may be in a class of it's own when it comes to finding the most difficult and inconvenient way to do something but it seems they don't have a monopoly when it comes to potty ideas. Robbie's company seems to be having a moment of madness. They are moving into a new building shortly and the steering group have decided that individual bins will not be permitted and people will have to get up from their desk and walk to a communal bin. I'm not sure why they are called a steering group, if they can't foresee the consequences of their actions I hope I never encounter any of them behind a steering wheel!

The company already recycle, so paper and other recyclable materials are not put in to individual bins, but there is still a need for a bin, without it even a trivial task like removing a staple from document or discarding a broken paperclip would require a journey across the office, or more likely they will end up on the floor and someone else will have to come along and clean up. A bent paperclip could damage a vacuum cleaner or industrial floor machine. Post often creates bits of rubbish, sellotape, packing tape, wrapping from journals and advertising material and other oddments. There should not be a huge amount of rubbish in individual bins, but if each small item reprents a journey and a potentially distraction from the task the person was focussed on, it will prove extremely unproductive. I wonder if they have thought about the problems and unnecessary discomfort this will cause to people with disabilities, there will also be a potential fire hazard if everyone starts collecting their own rubbish in a carrier bag, not to mention the disruption to the office environment if everyone walks to the bin with each item of rubbish.
Of course I am not accusing the steering group of original thought, this is yet another batty government idea. Envirowise provides free government funded advice to companies – most free gifts are really not worth having! Quite honestly I don't think the government could manage their way out of a paper bag, everything they touch seems to turn to disaster, so perhaps they should give up on the 'nanny state' and the micromanagement and get on with sorting out the economy! That would leave the steering group free to use their common sense, surely the staff could have individual bins and empty them into the main bin at the end of each day.

Trains and Stuff

After Robbie's visit to to Tyseley Open Day I asked Robbie to let me have a couple of photos for the blog - he sent me 22! So here is a random selection

King of the Fridge

People often ask how I cope with Robbie, mostly his idiosyncrasies don't really bother me, but sometimes the little things make me furious. I have written about Robbie's obsessive control of the fridge before. The 'post it' notes on the food drive me mad, I don't need to be told to 'use this first' or 'don't eat this' who made him the King of the Fridge anyway?

At just after midnight Robbie informed me that he'd enjoyed his evening meal but he would have liked to have an egg with it. I wondered why he should mention it now, so many hours after his meal and I asked him why he hadn't done himself an egg if he wanted one. He explained that we had none because he had thrown them away as they were out of date. I was furious, he had actually thrown away a brand new box of 12 large free range eggs! I conveyed my feelings to him and he explained that when he looked last week the eggs were nearly out of date and I hadn't informed him that I had bought new ones and thrown out the old ones, so when he was sorting out the fridge he threw them away. So apparently now he has taken on sole responsibility for stock control! I don't know why he couldn't read the use by date or why he didn't realise that the box of eggs was full, but his excuse was absolutely pathetic!

I took myself off to bed muttering darkly and planning my revenge – a mouse trap in his bed sounds suitably painful!