Anxiety Diminishing?

When Lisa, Felix and Thunderthighs were kittens

Nothing much in the archives so I thought I’d use this one a couple of days late.

3 November 2023 at 16:32

Ever since Kitty the mad cat went out one dark and stormy night and never came home, and little Lisa met with a car outside our house, Thunderthighs has been very anxious about keeping the cats in. 

Even in the light summer nights he hates to let them out after 8pm and is up and down the stairs like a thundering humungous yo-yo, peering out the back and front until they are in.  

I eventually get fed up, give in and go and call or whistle for them once it gets dark.

In the winter he's even worse.

However...

Last night about 7.30 he comes into the living room 

"Felix is by the back door desperate to be out."

"It's up to you."

Much to my surprise I heard the back door open and shut.

When he came into the living room I said "Well done.  Now pull back that back curtain so we can see him when he lands back on the windowsill."

Which he did, and went upstairs.

Half an hour or so later I spotted Felix glaring through the window so I went to let him in.

I thought Thunderthighs would hear the door and come downstairs.

Nothing.

In fact it was around nine before he descended and spotted Felix, much to his delight, sitting on the inside windowsill being warmed by the radiator.

Maybe that one little bit of anxiety is diminishing.

 

Holiday Diary Part Two

From my journal, written in the holiday cottage in Chatton 

Sunday 26^th October 2025

Via Chillingham to Edlingham to visit:  the church founded 700ish; the castle, which is actually a 13th century fortified manor house; and look at a 19^th century railway viaduct.  Of the three only the church remains in use.  Absolutely fascinating.   

Timeless and changing over time as people and their needs changed.   

Then circuitously to Seahouses for lunch in the Neptune fish and chip restaurant where they turned the music down for us.  A little shopping then back via Bamburgh, Budle Bay and Belford.  Wonderful wide views.  I love this countryside, the only place that might be more beautiful than the Towy Valley.

Mid-afternoon I walked to the metal bridge on the road to Chillingham.  The sheep were being noisy but I couldn’t see why.  Walking back I noticed, in the hedge, a sort of style and an overgrown wooden signpost “Chatton ¼ mile”.  I’d seen a footpath sign by the church so assumed that was where it went.  I walked over the field and saw yet another covey of partridges.  We’ve seen a lot of pheasants and partridges on this trip (and gladly little roadkill).  The church was still open; I sat and thought for a while before coming back.

Monday 27^th October 2025

What I thought in the church was that I was walking alone, as I always have.   

Except for a little while with Henffriend when we were children on the farm.   

And with Phil.  

Crossing that field felt so much like wandering the fields around Manordeilo and down the river when I was a child and before I left home.  

The cat that walks alone.  That’s me.   

“Why me?” I thought.  Then thought about my life now.   

Why is it like this?  Don’t I deserve so much better than this?  

I have family, friends and a husband and children.  

But in almost everything I am alone.

To be honest for some things I don’t really mind.  

I can do things my way without interference or worrying about what somebody else might think.   

And it gives me time to think.  

Possibly too much.   

I can do that lying in bed awake in the dark because I can’t sleep.  I drop off and wake up a few hours later.  Then drop off again when it starts to get light.  

What am I?  A bloody nightwatchman?

This village could be a Northumbrian version of St Mary Mead (it even has some 1950s council houses by the bus stop)

At Bedtime

Went for a walk to the stone bridge this afternoon, but it is too narrow with too much traffic to stand on and look at the river.  Came back into Chatton via The Old Road which led past the village hall (ex-school) and way to the church.  The dead grey squirrel is still there in the churchyard.  I think it may have eaten yew berries as there is a row of tall yews all in berry along the churchyard wall.  Nothing has scavenged it.  Saw a sparrowhawk trying to catch roosting collared doves.  It flew into a fir tree and four starburst out of it.

To Alnwick on the bus today.  I’m enchanted and enthralled by the landscape around here.   The Autumn colours add to the magic.

We’ve watched Pointless, Only Connect and Call My Bluff together.  And both local news programmes, with Ferretfingers who fell asleep because he stayed awake so late last night.

Here endeth the holiday diary as I started reading Victoria Hislop’s The Figurine, followed by 

Mary Stewart’s Rose Cottage and Libby Purves’ Casting Off.  The last one I picked up in a charity shop thinking it was about knitting; it isn’t but it made me laugh so I’ve passed it on to Mrs Leftfoot.

 

Posh

Cwmdu Post Office, Village Shop, Inn etc

From my journal, written in the holiday cottage in Chatton Saturday 25^th October 2025

I forgot when I booked this cottage, way back in the Summer, quite how posh rural North Northumberland can be.

Chatton village is made up of Victorian estate workers cottages, farm buildings, matching modern infill, a pub, church and shop-cum-post-office. 

This morning, first thing, Fester went to the shop to get all the stuff we’d not brought because we assumed they’d be provided.  The cottages we’ve stayed in in Wales always left a welcome pack of milk, Welshcakes or cake, and a supply of tea, coffee and sugar.  Here there was a handful of hotel teabags and ¼lb sugar.

On his return he commented 

“Quaint.” 

“How quaint?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well…compared to Cwmdu.”  

 “Oh an eight… and posh.  I mean when your choice of instant coffee is Pumphreys and the marmalade is made at Oxford Farm Preserves just down the road… that’s posh.”

Later we stocked up at Budgens in Wooler, which had lots of half price stuff but no bananas.

In Wooler itself I got some stuff from the pharmacy that cost less than I expected.

We had brunch in a café called Tete-a-Tete, who were happy to turn the music down, and I had the best fruit scone I’ve eaten in a while.  The beverages and boys’ food were good too.

Then to a wholefood shop where he bought cheese, piccalilli and honey, and I spent far too much on some excellent cards.

I drove and Fester navigated up to Coldstream and Duns; a nice town, very spread out and very quiet.

We came back via the back-whacks.  

He loves that kind of drive; OS map in hand, announcing which old pits we’re passing.  I try and enjoy the views.

I’ve just been for a wander and found, to my surprise, that the church was open.   

There’s been a vicar here since 1224 but the building now standing isn’t that old.

 

Wandering back a village couple were walking their whippet and greyhound.   

“Rugby fan, six nations” says the bloke.   

I got this nice red fleece commemorating Wales 2001 victory in the Cat & Dog shelter shop last year for not much money.  

It’s been a long time since I followed rugby.

 

What's For Tea?

From Facebook Archives

23 October 2022 at 16.02

Fester just rang to say he won't be home until after seven this evening.

I said to Thunderthighs "What shall we make for tea?"

He said "I'm going up to the Hungry Shack."

I go downstairs, check the fridge, and say to Ferretfingers "Sausage, beans and mashed potatoes for tea?"

He looks horrified and says "I had a sandwich."

"So you don't want any tea."

"No."

Which means he doesn't want me to make him any tea.

You can bet he'll get something when Thunderthighs goes up to the Hungry Shack though.

A lesser woman would feel hurt.

(Thunderthighs brought him a small box of chicken nuggets and chips.)

Yesterday however I posted this on Facebook...

22 October 2025 at 19.28 

Fester overdid things 'concentrating and reading small print' at the Mining Institute today so has taken to bed with the family cold. 

Thunderthighs made his own tea and was happy to let Ferretfingers get on with doing his own. 

I made it into the kitchen as he was spreading a quarter inch of spread onto two slices of bread prior to making a ham and Nutella sandwich (he's moved on from chocolate mousse which I'm not sure is better or worse). 

I scrape off the spread and tell him I'm making his tea. 

He leaves the kitchen looking grumpy. 

I wonder what I can do in 15 minutes. 

Look in the fridge and find leftover mashed potatoes, take them out and turn the frying pan on full to heat up. Meanwhile whisk up an egg, milk and a little butter and put that in the microwave for a minute. Squish the mash into a flat lump and put in the very hot fat, lid on. Slice a slice of sliced ham into thin ribbons, get the egg-mix out of the microwave, add ribbons, stir briskly and put back in for half a minute. Turn the mash to brown the other side. Cut the two slices of bread into triangles and arrange around the side of a plate. Dump the hot mash in the middle. Stir the eggs again to scramble them and put on top of the mash.

He ate the lot.

Small win, put a few flags out.

🙋 

We're away for a week, so don't look for another posting until next month.

But do feel free to go back and read or reread old posts, there are 1592 to chose from.