Being Neighbourly

Tonight I had a visit from the neighbours’ cat, Coco. She’d been meowing on their doorstep for a while and I thought I’d try my luck and see if she was ready to move on to the next stage in our relationship. So far I’d been allowed to briefly pet her on the stairs, as long as I was careful to give her ample notice.

When I opened the door she seemed a little startled, but also quite fed up with sitting around on the bristly mat. She didn’t need a lot of convincing to waltz right in. She gave herself a quick tour of the premises, tail twitching and belly close to the floor, all the while keeping an eye on me (I was to stay put in a chair, preferably without moving) and on the door (any hint of it closing and she was gone). Then, having made sure there were no lifethreatening predators lurking about, she took a second, more leisurely tour. Up every table, under every bed and behind the couch –though that proved a little tricky, so she reversed right back out of there. I pretended not to have noticed and, face intact, she moved on to a safer piece of furniture.

Desperately wanting to be a good host, I presented her with some fish on a tiny saucer, which she declined, and some goats cheese, which she didn’t even sniff. She did give me a look that read, now where’s the real food? I apologised, feeling terrible, and planned to go out and buy some Gourmet first thing in the morning. She didn’t seem too put out, though, because she visited for nearly an hour. Then she quietly slipped out and went back to waiting on the neighbours’ mat, and I settled down to watch a film (Andy Garcia, still young and crunchy…yumm). As far as first visits went, this had been a success.

Film over, though, and I could still hear her out there. Poor thing, I guess the neighbours were out. She must be starved, I thought, seriously wishing I had something to offer her. But companionship seemed to be enough, actually –where do people find this type of cat?! I went to open my front door again and she nearly jumped at me. Guess I wasn’t the only one feeling alone tonight. She quickly did away with formalities and jumped onto the couch, cuddling and purring away. I’d have purred too, if I could. Her visit really liften my spirits. I couldn’t help wishing I’d watched the movie with her too. Who knows, she might have been an Andy fan.

Luau!

This came to mind the other day –and I wasn’t even cooking bacon. Always cracks me up…(check the youtube page for lyrics).

Untitled

I am not well. And I don’t write about it because I don’t want to bore anyone. How ridiculous. I can’t think straight and I’m aware of it. It’s such a weird feeling, to be mentally ill. I’ve been there before and, little by little, I’ve come to realise I’m there again. I can see it in people’s reactions and the worried faces of the ones who love me, and I can hear it in what comes out of my own mouth. What saddens me is some/most people’s failure to understand or, if understanding is impossible, their unwillingness to accept. They can’t see the difference between my illness and my character, and their comments are very hurtful. I wish I could understand it myself, I mean really get it. I wish it didn’t hurt me this much to live.

Tap

My mum is arriving today, coming to spend a week in the sun before the autumn blahs settle over Northern Europe. Over here the height of summer has definitely passed –the sun doesn’t hurt my skin anymore, but is just hot. And it’s still humid but a little less so. It’s actually getting bearable, and some days even pleasant. No sweaters or jackets, I kept repeating over the phone, but do bring some earplugs. Noisy neighbours and noise in general are typical of Spain, especially in summer. I know I’ve repeated that here ad nauseam.

But last night it started raining and as I went to bed, I briefly wondered why it is I insist on wearing earplugs again. You could here the proverbial pin drop. Weird! It’s as if someone has turned summer off like a tap. This morning it is definitely less balmy than usual. I can just imagine my mum’s raised eyebrow when she gets here…

Memories Of The Charts

Some techno music floating in from some neighbour’s stereo brought on a sudden memory: New Beat. Does anyone remember that? For some reason my brother and I thought it was cool. My mum used to indulge us and let us eat our dinner in front of the TV one night a week, so that we could catch the countdown. And every time the new beat hit du jour would come on, my dad would come out of the kitchen copying one of the silly –well, now I recognise it as silly– dance moves. Da-ad, we’d groan, you’re ruining the song!

And another top of the charts related memory –weird how it seemed so important at the time, but it really was. Saturday lunchtime (because those bloody shows always coincided with mealtimes), my brother and I sat side by side at the kitchen table, each with our own little boombox next to us on the floor and a weekly magazine open on the charts page between us. We each marked the songs we wanted to tape and when one of those songs was about to come on, everyone had to be quiet so we could focus on pressing the REC. button at the start of the song. The aim was not to get any kind of introduction on your tape, but you also didn’t want to miss the opening bars of the song. Man, we had time for stupid things in those days^^.