Ciaran’s Omnipurpose Blog

Children are delightful. I can’t help but smile when, on the way to work, I see kids playing in the playground. Sadly we’ve developed a paranoia about children. Victorian values taught that they should be seen and not heard, but now it seems they should not been heard or seen.

An indicative trend at the moment is the tendency of some picture editors to blur out the faces of children. It’s weird: it almost makes you feel criminal looking at the picture and isn’t even applied consistently according to any law, otherwise everyone would be doing it:

Sometimes real life proves that we won’t be influenced by people who want to peddle fear. This mother got chatting to a nice man on the tube. She had her son occupying one of the seats, which she gave up to another passenger. He wriggled on her lap, wanting to play tarzan on the handrail, so she let the man hold him as the boy climbed the post. They played together for about 20 minutes until the man had to get off for his stop. He didn’t steal the kid.

Some countries regard children as their parents’ first, but with society taking a hand in things second. Isn’t it healthier to think like that, rather than live in fear of being accused of being perverse for taking delight in the innocence and beauty of children and responsibility for our next generation?

It’s every cat owner’s nightmare: you get a lie-in because the moggy isn’t pawing at your face at 5am to be fed. In fact, you don’t see the cat for the whole day. Then two, then four. You start to fret. You worry that the worst has happened. Perhaps his death was mercifully quick? You decide not to give up hope and produce a series of posters and flyers with which to bombard the immediate neighbourhood. You try forget that your cat is basically a quadripedal ninja and can choose never to be seen if he wants. You go knocking on doors. You go for long walks with an empty cat carrier and a torch. You scour the web for advice on what to do when your cat goes missing. You tolerate smart alecs who tell you that you’re not doing enough because they found their dog after dropping 800 leaflets and never mind that dogs walk up to people whilst cats think it’s fun to hide from people.

You start to give up hope without giving up hope. Perhaps someone will find him and scan his chip? Why fight the inevitable: just wait for him to be found! Occasionally, your resolve breaks and you go back out for walks or try calling around vets. Then you give up again and feel bad for giving up. But it’s been 11 days, and with some of the hottest weather on record. How could he have survived?

Then one night, in the wee small hours, your cat comes home either like nonchalant teenager late home from a saturday night out or desperately happy to see you and all’s well again.

So my advice to you should your cat go walkabout for a few days, and assuming he’s microchipped, here’s what you should do: absolutely nothing.

See! They turn up when they want to!

I was wondering when I’d feel inspired to blog something. So here goes. Rebecca and I were out looking for our lost foster cat, Piper. We’d leafleted our neighbourhood and had a call from a neighbour who had spotted him in the fields nearby. Sadly we didn’t find him, although a very cute tortoiseshell followed us around as we shook a bag of kibbles to get his attention. Here’s a photo of Piper. What about those eyes, eh?

So we headed back to the house. On the way home, we stopped at Rebecca’s car, parked around the corner. Where we live, there are no residents bays or similar nonsense. It’s one of the nice things about the area; we never have to worry about finding our cars have been clamped after coming back from a holiday. The only downside is that you sometimes can’t park outside your own house, but this is a small price to pay.

Unfortunately, Rebecca has been unable to use her car for many weeks. This is because she broke her foot. It’s also been a bit or a turbulent time in our household, so we’ve been away from home a lot. We got into the car and Rebecca started it first time. Good sign! The windscreen was a bit dirty, so we spent a bit of time spraying and letting the wiper blades do their thing. Suddenly, there was a vigourous knocking on Rebecca’s window. We jumped a mile! A middle aged woman’s face was pressed against it. She was wearing a kaftan or something. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Here’s the conversation as I best remember it:

Woman: You’ve been parked outside my house for a long time. That’s not fair. Where do you live?
Rebecca: Just around the corner.
Woman: It’s not fair that you’ve parked here..
Rebecca: Well, it’s the street, so we can park here.
Woman: Well it’s really unfair that you parked here. I was about to call the police.
Rebecca: The reason the car has been here so long is because I broke my foot and couldn’t drive. I’m just trying to move the car now – I’m testing to see if my foot is strong enough.
Woman: Well it’s very unfair that you parked here. I was going to complain to the police!
Me: Did you not hear what she just said? She broke her foot and couldn’t drive!
Woman: Yes well, but I don’t see why you had to park there for so long. It’s very unfair on us!
Rebecca: I *broke* my *foot*! This is a public road! I don’t know why you’re having a go at me!
Woman: I’m not having a go, It’s just really unfair that you parked here.
Me: The lady just told you twice that she broke her foot. If it were me, I’d be too embarrased to complain about the parking, but clearly you’re not. End of conversation.