Archive for the ‘Living’ Category

Keeping cats at bay

2014-05-26 12.24.43Since moving into our new house we have been plagued by cat bowel movements. There are at least five culprits. Some are sweeter than others. However, they use the yard as a toilet. Cat poo is not pleasant. We decided to act.

The solution we investigated might be a sonic device that emits a sound frequency that they simply cannot bear. Apparently.

So, here it is (left). It is branded as Rentokil and made in the UK. It worked for the first two days. However, the cat poo returned.

We are currently procuring a new weapon against them:

Funeral of my father

Order of serviceHe died suddenly on 2 April. I was on my way to see him when he died. I heard the news from my sister at a motorway service area on the A1 south-north road in England.

The administration of a death is unrewarding. One has to make an appointment to register a death. Seemingly, not all doctors – post killer-doctor, Harold Shipman – are qualified and/or able to write the necessary death certificate. No death certificate, no registration. No registration, no funeral.

The choice of undertaker, Annison and Boddy (part of the Dignity group), my father already made. They were excellent. We allowed the undertaker to manage the process for us. I even accepted the door of the car to be opened for me. We allowed the undertaker to appoint a skilled celebrant, Paul Hamby. He did us a fine ceremony. God was absent.

We entered the Haltemprice Crematorium in the northwest of Hull on 11 April to the music of Reginald Dixon, a fine (Wurlizter) organist. His music was a feature of my childhood. The most emotion came from a piece of music from Daniel O’Donnell. ‘Forever You’ll be Mine’ which best captured my father’s devotion to my mother. The tears were impossible to hold Coffinback.

We departed to Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance, part of the finale for each year’s BBC Proms concerts, which we always had to endure as children. Only for me to be a regular Prommer in later life. There is much to reflect upon.

Dead seagulls

Source: Andreas Trepte

I live on the seafront road. It is dangerous. If you are a furry or feathery creature, particularly so. So it was not surprising to see a dead adult Herring Gull on the pavement adjacent to the house when I arrived home last night. I assume that it had been hit by a large truck and deposited there by the impact.

It disturbed quite a few people. I know that the local council pick up road casualties as a matter of course on a daily basis. And so it was with this creature, I assume, as it disppeared somewhere between 2200 and midnight. Or was it the Council? I say this because, whilst ironing a pair of trousers last night, I heard some talking outside the window. I took a moment out to look. There was an elderly woman with a small terrier dog, stroking it and talking to it (the dead gull, not the dog). It was difficult to decipher exactly what she was saying, but I sense there was disbelief that it was dead. She then stood back and looked at it and the surroundings unsure about what to do. The dog was no help. Maybe she took it home to nurse back to health?