Sickness

Not going to Odyssey, and, despite wanting to and having a toga and everything, this must be a good thing cos I feel horrible. J'avais un sickie tres mauvais. It's just a cold but I am treating it as much more dangerous as it has reached a pinnacle unheard of; it has put me off food, even the delish lasagne larians made for lauremer, squintywitch, bad_moon_rising and me. A lovely night of talking with friends, drinking red wine and staring at other people's plates. Oh well.

Those of you who care about cats, spare a thought/prayer for the unfortunate chav-cat, local stray and current sufferer of the lurgy that brought our kitties down. Poor thing might even have caught it from them. Last time he was here, he was sneezing and his eyes were streaming. For the last two days the wind has howled all along the trails of the Wild Hunt to the tune of relentless rain. I hope he's somewhere safe. After months of the RSPCA being seriously crap (to quote our vet; 'Insist. Make them do their job' ) they let us have a cat trap, which is now set up in the shed, where we usually leave spare food for him. Of course, he hasn't been anywhere near it, because if he has what they had, by now he is feeling too shit to move, and if stuff around doesn't smell very strongly of food he won't recognise it, so he will just get weaker and weaker while the illness takes hold...if Chav hasn't been vaccinated sometime in his past, his next few days could be very unpleasant indeed.

Fingers crossed that he'll make it here. Rooting for you Chav. Come to the warm.

Cheering

Nothing clever about this, it is merely gentle and beautiful on a day I feel sad. I got it from a community I joined, strange_tears and add it here with thanks, so that I may always have a record of it. It's a combination of Debussy (a favourite composer of mine) and the words of a poet I have never heard of before, Piere Louys, so obviously if your workplace frowns on you not dedicating every thought, word and engine search to them, be careful. The poetry is spoken in French so I add the translation below.

http://home.ripway.com/2004-3/81451/ChantPastoral.mp3

It is time to sing a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.
I tend my flock and Selene hers, in the round shadow of a quivering olive tree.

Selene is lying in the meadow.
She gets up and runs away to look for cicadas or pick flowers,
or wash her face in the cool stream water.

From the sheeps' white backs I pull wool with which to grace my distaff, then I spin.
Time lingers.
And an eagle flies by.

The shade shifts; let's move the basket of flowers and the jug of milk.
It is time to sing a pastoral song, to invoke Pan, god of the summer wind.

To add to the summer theme, Ralik has just eaten a bee.

Dreams and blackouts

( very odd dream )