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Wednesday, 20 July 2005

The Remains Of The Day

I wish to speak with the scriptwriters of my life. I'm sure I requested an Adventure Story, not Black Comedy. I am bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. The Bushbaby has kept me awake by cackling up in the tree at an eardrum-busting level all night long. When I walked into the living room this morning I saw what was making it laugh. We have recently acquired two cats, in an attempt to stamp out the wildlife that runs riot inside our home - the bats, rats, mice, voles, giant hairy spiders and so on. Unfortunately the cats feel that they must show off their captives. On the sofa, next to a cute and fluffy toy mouse, all tucked up neat and tidy next to it, almost like bedmates, is a real mouse. Well not so much real anymore, seeing as it's dead an' all. And missing its head. But that's ok though, because I can see the head. Puked up all over the floor.

We have a sweet old lady in the UK who likes to send odd bits and pieces to the schoolkids here. We just received from her a big box of teddies for the creche. Donations in kind have to be registered, so we've got a record of incoming goods. I went to speak to the Man In Charge Of Records about the donation. I showed him the box and told him how many teddies we'd gotten. He didn't know what a Teddy Bear was. There is something incredibly sad about that. But also something incredibly funny about the fact that I now have a receipt for Teddy Balls. I don't really need a box full of furry genitalia, I've had quite enough body parts to contend with this morning...