Sunday 14th August 2011

I love weekends, but hate the wooshing sound as they fly past!

And in a blink of the eye, the weekend was all behind, and the working week stretches in front like a huge stretchy thing. We did nothing much exciting; we were going to go and buy some home brew kit, but the weather did not get good enough for the walk on Sheppy that we had planned after. So, we had a walk along the lane after dinner, and after snapping some butterflies we came back. And, I took position on the sofa to listen to the football on the radio, as the Premier League season began this weekend.



Norwich got off to an OK start, drawing away at Wigan, whilst QPR got hooped (ha) at home to Bolton. And until six this evening City were in forth place due to alack of goals and wins and alphabetical order. But then Man Utd got a late winner and duped us to 5th.



Today, we baked a Christmas Cake, did the garden, began brewing some beer for Christmas and visited the old folks at Jools' Dad's. And after being given some cooking apples we went blackberrying and snapped more butterflies and insects and then prepared the apples and blackberries to be cooked so we can have crumble at some point.

Molly is restricted to just indoors again after knocking her scab off and the wound being as big as it was last weekend. A trip to the vet tomorrow is now planned as she has finished her medication. Other than the open wound on her neck, she is fine and back to her bouncy self again. But the wound is not going to get better with her outside. At least we have the new cat flap and she should be unable to get out.



In other sports news, England lost to Wales in the final warm up game for the Rugby World Cup; not good. Although as hard as I try, egg-chasing leaves me cold, and the fact that it annoys the Welsh and Scots that most Englishmen really don't give two figs about it only makes it worth following.
Much better was the cricket team, which thrashed India by an innings and 242 runs yesterday to be the best test team in the world. Sounds good, eh? But considering there are just 8 test teams in the world. In truth, it has been a glorious two years fro England; tour victories in South Africa and Australia means we have upset more colonials than since the time of Queen Vic,so it can't all be bad.

Thursday 11th August 2011

What is that I see hoving into view? Oh, it's the weekend! About time too. Thanks to a combination of cats, humidity and life in general means that I need sleep, a rest and whatever I can get.

First, update on Molly: she is back to her normal bouncy self. And the wound is healing quickly now. I am guessing its half its original size and looking a lot less angry. She is also making up for a week with no food by eating whatever and whenever she can, and best of all is still very loving. And has forgiven us for the trip to the vet, but not the two tablets we have to give her daily.

Yesterday we got on TV. well, kinda. A friend posted on FB that he had tickets for the filming of a TV in Dover Castle, was anyone interested? Yes, why not? So, after work and a quick dinner, we headed out to the castle; our name was on the list, and we stood around waiting for something television-y to happen. What I can tell you is TV is mainly lots of assistants running around, make up guys dropping make up brishes, and the 'talent' coming out from their trailers and reading stuff off autocues, waiting to see if the take was good and heading back for more otter's noses and ocelot's spleens in the green room.



We were warned to take something warm; we should have taken fire, but a winter jumper should have been enough in August. But the wind did blow and the sun got low and we all did shiver.

Come half seven and broadcast time, I had had enough, and after the intro was filmed and the 'talent' headed off to different parts of the castle, we headed out back to the car and home: where first a cuppa and then two wee drams helped warm the swonicles.



The big news this week has been the riots; initially set off by the shooting of a guy with a replica gun in the back of a taxi in Tottenham, but spreading to other parts of London and then England as people saw an opportunity to smash things and loot stores of designer clothes and jewellery.
But why, the papers and politicians ask? Because we put such an emphasis on the value of things, not just whether something is just good. By a top, plain? No, instead buy one for six times the price with this huge unattractive logo on it. That you can't afford it makes it even more desirable!
So, harsher sentences for the rioters, less money for the police, and this is what our glorious leader tells us will fix things. We shall see.

And now the weekend looms; the Premier season is about to begin, and Norwich are to be tested against the might that is Wigan. A game we could win; maybe should win. The fun starts here.......

Tuesday 9th August 2011

I am aware that I did not mention Molly in my last post. Or not much.

Well, Molly is in good health, apart from the wound on her neck, and seems to have accepted her restrictions, staying in the house for now. Or, that was until this morning. There is a chance that she managed to find a way out of the house before we left the house for work. She certainly could not be found, but then she could just be hiding. We shall see when we get home.
That apart, the wound in not drying out as we hoped, and if she is inside when we get back, we will make another appointment to see a vet to see if it can be dressed.

Saturday night she slept all the way through, just demanding occasionally a stoke or cuddle. Sunday night, she was a bit hyper, as I think she slept most of the day, and with the thunder storm outside and high humidity meant she was climbing the curtains instead of sleeping. And then having reached the ceiling, jumping onto the bed. Oh, it is funny now, but at half two in the morning, it wasn’t.

I just have to mention that these past two days, when sitting at my desk overlooking the harbour, on the horizon I can see France. It is unusual for it to be clear enough to see the French coastline from here, but with the rain we have had, it has washed the dust from the atmosphere and we can see for miles and miles. The sea is an azure blue, and the yachts racing just outside the harbour mouth look wonderful.

It seems appropriate, as the 1980s are in vogue again, what with a conservative government, strikes, a recession, high unemployment and so on, that riots would complete the picture. And so now on the news we have scenes of shops and homes going up in smoke, youths throwing rocks at the police and TV crews. And it is spreading. It is now time for Birmingham, Bristol and Liverpool to burn, not just London. The original reason for demonstrations is being lost, and now it is destruction and looting just for their sake. There are calls for more police or the Army on the streets, which makes the cuts to the police and armed forces a trifle unfortunate. Sporting events are now being cancelled as there is not enough police to patrol the streets and the stadiums. What happens if riots kicks off next summer when the Olympics are on? Doesn’t bear thinking about.

Two years ago today, Norwich began their first campaign in the 3rd tier of the Football League for some 49 seasons. City had won all of their pre-season games, plenty of players had been signed, good noises were being made by the then manager Bryan Gunn. The fans gathered for the first game of the season, a home game against Colchester United, expecting an cake walk, the first of 46 such cake-walks that would take us straight back the Championship. By half time, Norwich were 5-0 down, and in the end lost 7-1; the heaviest ever home defeat in 109 years. I remember listening to the radio, hearing some pundit saying maybe Norwich could recover and win promotion even after that defeat. It seemed unlikely.
In the aftermath of that, Norwich were the leading story on every sports bulletin on TV and radio, the goals were showed over and over again. As was film of two season ticket holders throwing their tickets at the manager in the dugout. Six days later the manager was sacked, and Paul Lambert was recruited from Colchester of all teams.

Things did not improve right away, but by the end of September a new resilience was seen, late goals, hard work saw us climb the table, and by the turn of the year we were trailing just Leeds. The second half of the season went almost perfectly, as City won game after game, scoring later and later goals to win games from ever for unlikely positions. At one time we seemed to be doing it just to annoy the Leeds fans on WACCOE whose incredulous swearing as we won yet more games whilst their lead slipped and trailed by ever more points.
Promotion was secured in April on a fine, cloudless day at Charlton; once held up to be the way City themselves should be run. The dancing and drinking lasted until the end of the season.

During last summer, Lambert bought unspectacularly, but hopes were high for the new season. And then the first game happened; a straightforward home game against Watford in front of the TV cameras. City blew it and lost 2-3. I said in my blog, a new dawn faded. But, once again the wins began to come, as did the late goals. At the end of November, live on the BBC, the old enemy, Ipswich, was put to the sword 4-1 and we climbed nearer the automatic promotion spots.

We stayed there until March, and the final 10 games. In a rare showing of complete confidence in my team, I said that Norwich would get promoted as we had showed our nerve the previous season, and were best equipped to do the same again as the promised land hoved into view. Six games to go, and the old enemy came along, and at their place City went one better to win 5-1 and cement their place in 2nd place.

There were some hairy moments, well, just the one when City lost on TV to Swansea, but we recovered our nerve to gain a second successive promotion. There was more dancing and drinking. I went up to Norwich for the final game to do some drinking.

And now, this weekend another new season looms; City are predicted to go back to where they came from. Lambert has bought frugally early again. The squad went on a trip to Germany to train and bond, games were won.

My point for this is, no matter what happens this season, the past two years have been a wonderful ride, and we indeed have a dreadful season losing many, many games. But we have bought, once again, young and hungry players who have something to prove and are not afraid of hard work. Even if we get off to a good start and win a few games, Lambert will have the players feet on the ground working even harder. And if relegation comes, we have no expensive has-beens on sky-high wages to dump next summer.

In Paul Lambert we have probably the best young manager in the country, someone as ambitious as is needed to be the very best, and is never happy no matter how big the win, or how well the team has played. We may be dreadful, but the players will work hard and never give up, and with six proven goalscorers we may upset a few of the complacent teams.

Who knows, who knows?

Kick off, throw in, have a little scrimmage,
Keep it low, a splendid rush, bravo, win or die;
On the ball, City, never mind the danger,
Steady on, now's your chance,
Hurrah! We've scored a goal.
City!, City!, City

Sunday 7th August 2011

After the drama and lack of sleep of the previous night, we laid in bed until nearly eight just listening to the outside world, and occasionally stroking Molly, who seems to be getting used to being an indoor cat once more.

The BBC said that today we would have unbroken sunshine, and so I left for the open day at Dover Coastguard with no coat and thought that the walk to the station from the car park would be pleasant. It was, but there were some very black clouds bubbling up.



The coastguard station is along the clifftop road, just as it dips past the National Trust's place, and is only a five minute drive away. I parked in the field opposite, only to be told that to attend the 'free' event a parking fee of £3 would have to be paid. I had no change, as neither did they.



I walked along the road a bit, and was treated to wonderful views over the A2 to the castle beyond. It really is the finest view of the castle, especially when the sun shines.

Up the single track road to the station, more fine views, this time over the harbour and to Shakespeare beyond.

The black clouds were now heading our way, quickly, and so I grabbed a few shots before discovering that a helicopter was inbound to practice a cliff rescue. I took shelter next to the building and changed lenses and waited.

The helicopter came and hovered a few hundred yards away, it lowered two men, then a stretcher; and after a while winched one man back up, then the stretcher and the final guy together. all this time, the rain arrived and it was driven hard by a strong wind. But being in the lea of the building meant i stayed dry-ish, and I got my shots.

All there was left to do was to look round the building itself, culminating with a look down into the main control room. I ended up giving a talk on windfarms to an electrical engineering professor as the London array got mention and I said casually I worked on Thanet. Must learn to keep my mouth shut.

Back outside to look round the displays, I meet a couple of fiends, both photographers before I walk back to the car and a quick drive home in time for lunch. I quickly slice two huge tomatoes, and a couple of mozzarellas, drizzle some olive oil, crack open a bottle of home brew beer and a cider for Jools,and lunch was ready.

And that is today, really; as this afternoon i watched the Charity, sorry Community Shield. The football season bean this weekend with the Football League starting things off this week before we the Premier League big boys join in next week. Yes, because Norwich are indeed Premier League now; I checked next weekend's fixtures just to be sure. And we are there, playing Wigan at three on Saturday.
This is the beginning of 21 months of almost continuous football; even a footy lover like me admits this is way too much. After this season ends, we have the European Championship which dovetails into the beginning of next season and the Olympic tournament too.

Phew.

Saturday 6th August 2011: Return of the cat.

There have been times when this week has been hard, for three days and nights there was no further sign of molly; no meow, no footprints just a bump in the night that may or may not have been her coming in through the window.

Friday came, last day of work for the week. I left off a bit early, went to the butcher's and Tesco. Tired out we had pizza and beer for dinner, then planned our trip to Essex for the Saturday. Churches, market squares, bead shops and maybe a steam railway.

As the football season began this weekend, and the first game of the Football League season was on TV, I sat down to watch it, and at half time grabbed a shower so we could go to bed nice and early so we would be fresh for an nice and early start in the morning.

Jools was reading in bed, I came out of the shower, dried off, and went to walk down the hall to the bedroom. In the shadows there was a cat.

Meow.

Molly? I said.

Meow.

I turned on the light, and it took a couple of seconds for the energy saving bulbs to power up, but in time, Molly was illuminated.

Meow.

She rolled on the floor showing her belly.

Meow.

Jools got up and locked the cat flap so Molly could not make another quick exit. She came up to see if it really was Molly.

It was.

as she rolled on the floor, I saw a huge lesion on the side of her neck; there was no fur or skin in a 2 inch circle. She seemed unworried by it though.

I went down to the kitchen to get food and water, and Molly ate well and drank deeply. I stroked her as she ate, as I had done when she was a kitten, and Molly purred more and raised her tail even higher.

We called the vet, and made arrangements for us to go to Canterbury for an emergency appointment. Molly was not happy about going into a box, and sang to us all the way into Canterbury. The vet looked and suggested it had probably been an abscess, which had burst. It was now an old wound, too old to stitch, so she would have to heal naturally. She got shots and in time we were allowed to bring her home.



We can't let her out for a while, and our trip today is cancelled, but for great reasons. There's always another time. We let her stay in with us, and she prowled around on and off all night, with the occasion 'hello' meow she does. She laid with us, and purred as we stroked her. Almost like being back to normal.

Molly is back.

Wednesday 3rd August 2011

Tuesday, I printed so ‘missing cat’ posters; laminated them and once Jools had left to visit her friend, I went for a walk and put them up at various points around the neighbourhood. Before Jools left, we discussed the situation, and although it was possible Molly could come home any time, I accepted she was probably dead and we would almost certainly never know.

As I walked back home, the drizzle turned to more sustained rain, which matched my mood.

I sat down at the computer to process some photographs, and heard a meow.

That was Molly’s attention seeking meow I decided. And it was in the house.

I stood at the foot of the stairs and called her name. Nothing. I called again and there was another, quitter meow. Once against in the house.

I walked up the stairs and called again, there was a simper from the spare bedroom. I got on my hands and knees and looked under the bed; nothing. I turned my head and looked under the wardrobe, and there was Molly. All wide-eyed and full of panic.

Meow.

I got up, went downstairs, grabbed a bowl of food and another of fresh water, took them up for her. She would not come from her alternative hiding place, the bedside table, so I pushed her food under and she ate quickly.
I went outside, closed the door and went to call Jools to let her know the good news.

I went back up, open the door, and she shoots out like a thing possessed. I follow in her wake down the stairs, out the kitchen just to see her bolt down the garden and out of site. She did not pause, break stride or look back.

And that is that. Molly is alive by very spooked, and very nervous about even coming inside. We have not seen or heard from her since, maybe this evening will bring another, less fraught meeting. But she is, at least, alive.

Monday 1st August 2011

Some 40 hours since we last saw Molly, and no sign. We live on the edge of the country, and quite frankly, anything could have happened. But, its the not knowing. Jools is beside herself, I'm a bit more pragmatic, thinking that she will saunter in at any moment just demanding to be fed. We thought we heard her meow this evening, but we were both mistaken.

News, as we get it.

So, Sunday, Molly had not been missing for long, and all cats do that from time to time, just go a wandering, so we went for a walk around the neighbourhood, or along the track at the end of our street, across some fields, along a couple of lanes, a walk through a wood and back across the fields and back home in an hour. Not bad.

It was good, I saw few butterflies, but to be in the English countryside, a riot of greens, golds and reds is wonderful enough. we wave to various horses and cows who think, quite rightly, who are those freaks?



Back home we have lunch, and I notice a friend is leading a historical walk round the outside of Dover Castle that very afternoon. Sounds good, we respond via Facebook. My old boss sees my post and says he and his wife are coming down to Dover for the walk too!



We quickly visit Tesco, rather than do it on a weekday evening, and get all we need for the week, including seed encrusted rolls for Sunday lunch.

And back out again at half one to meet up at the ruin of St James's Church for the walk.
We follow my friends Paul and Jeff for a bit, then we stop and listen to jeff talk. Walk a bit further and Jeff talks some more. And so on for over two hours at which point we have climbed to beside the castle and arrive at the Bleriot Memorial. Jeff tells us that he has made arrangements with English Heritage that we can walk down into the town through the castle. For free.



This we do, where we stop at the world's most unhelpful ice cream kiosk, where they have:

No change.

No cones.

No tubs.

No siree.



We sit on the grass and watch children batter each other with wooden swords bought from the castle shop. It's interactive education!

We walk down through the castle, out through the traffic gate and down the hill and back to the car. Three hours, some exercise and lots of photographs and snaps of Chalkhill Blues too.