Yes, it's "hammering down outside!" as we say round here! Been raining all day, and looks like it'll be raining all afternoon and evening, as well.
So, what does a wargamer do in the rain? Well, sort out his his hobby room, that's what!
What!!! Why not paint a few soldiers? Or set up & play a small skirmish game? Well, the reason why not, is simple... My hobby room is now *so* full of (family) junk - boxes of my dear old mum's photos, when we had to move her out of her Assisted Living flat into a proper Car Home; our family photos, and boxes of paperback books, which I read years ago, but can't bear to part with! And so-on, and so-on...
So "spring cleaning" it has to be, then. And *then* I can - perhaps - have sufficient space to erect my small gaming table and set up a dinky-little skirmish game.
Question? When *was* the last time I set up, and played, a wargame? ... ... Oh, only about ten or more years ago, that's all (!!!) And even that was only the second or third game I'd ever set up on the dining room table. After that last game - and the succeeding ones - the missus had complained *so* much about the "mess on the table" and "not that silly wargames stuff again!" that I lost heart, and hence my hobby room started to get used by anyone wanting to store other junk... Till now! The fight-back has already started - this week - and now I'm going to stop typing and start sorting out my hobby room for the rest of the afternoon.
Friday, 27 April 2018
Monday, 10 August 2015
Why *DO* I bother...???
"Why *do* I bother?" I said, aloud, as I drove home today from Newport Pagnell, in the pouring rain, this lunchtime. Good question! But why am I saying it?
Well, as I drove along Marsh Drive, in Great Linford, taking the missus home from her swimming session in Newport Pagnell, (the road is a quiet, almost country-lane type of road, with a country park one side, and the edge of Great Linford village on the other); a young woman with 4 children in tow, was waiting to cross from the village side to the park. She wasn't really watching her children - albeit that they were all standing at the kerb, (looking suspiciously like they all might just run across the road, possibly in front of an oncoming motorist), and with the eldest, about 5, on her little bike, itching to get across the road to continue her cycle ride, and her younger siblings impatiently squabbling whilst standing at the roadside... ...
And the woman? (mother / child-minder???) ... ...
She could have been on another planet, for all the control she was displaying of the children, or the attention she was giving to crossing the road!
So why was she not in command of her tribe?
Oh, she was prattling away on her mobile phone whilst trying to hold a brolly up against the rain, and push a pushchair! Totally oblivious to what the kids were doing, or for that matter, whether there was any traffic to be aware of as they waited to cross the road. Yap, yap, bunny, bunny... laugh, laugh, yap-yap, laugh ... ...
All this I saw and took in, as I drove up the road towards them. So, being the kind, generous, big-hearted type that I am, I slowed to a halt, wound down the window, and beckoned them to cross (it was safe - there was no other oncoming vehicle in sight).
The eldest child saw and understood my hand-wave (i.e. "you can cross now"), and cycled over the road, followed by the [still squabbling] siblings... and this woman pushing the pushchair... still gabbling away on her mobile, and (here's the bit that really got to me) never stopped yakking, never looked at me, and *never* even gestured a wave of thanks!!! Grrrrr!!!
Hence: "why do I bother?" ... ... ... But then again, as my dear old Dutch. put it to me a moment later, "because you're a nice, kind, husband!" ... ... ... Aaah ... innat nice?! :-)
Well, as I drove along Marsh Drive, in Great Linford, taking the missus home from her swimming session in Newport Pagnell, (the road is a quiet, almost country-lane type of road, with a country park one side, and the edge of Great Linford village on the other); a young woman with 4 children in tow, was waiting to cross from the village side to the park. She wasn't really watching her children - albeit that they were all standing at the kerb, (looking suspiciously like they all might just run across the road, possibly in front of an oncoming motorist), and with the eldest, about 5, on her little bike, itching to get across the road to continue her cycle ride, and her younger siblings impatiently squabbling whilst standing at the roadside... ...
And the woman? (mother / child-minder???) ... ...
She could have been on another planet, for all the control she was displaying of the children, or the attention she was giving to crossing the road!
So why was she not in command of her tribe?
Oh, she was prattling away on her mobile phone whilst trying to hold a brolly up against the rain, and push a pushchair! Totally oblivious to what the kids were doing, or for that matter, whether there was any traffic to be aware of as they waited to cross the road. Yap, yap, bunny, bunny... laugh, laugh, yap-yap, laugh ... ...
All this I saw and took in, as I drove up the road towards them. So, being the kind, generous, big-hearted type that I am, I slowed to a halt, wound down the window, and beckoned them to cross (it was safe - there was no other oncoming vehicle in sight).
The eldest child saw and understood my hand-wave (i.e. "you can cross now"), and cycled over the road, followed by the [still squabbling] siblings... and this woman pushing the pushchair... still gabbling away on her mobile, and (here's the bit that really got to me) never stopped yakking, never looked at me, and *never* even gestured a wave of thanks!!! Grrrrr!!!
Hence: "why do I bother?" ... ... ... But then again, as my dear old Dutch. put it to me a moment later, "because you're a nice, kind, husband!" ... ... ... Aaah ... innat nice?! :-)
Tuesday, 12 May 2015
Screech! Howl! Wossat?! What time is it? 3am...
3 am is not my best time of night!
In fact, though I'm a morning person, and quite happy to rise at 7am, the "early hours" of the morning are for 'Zees', NOT jumping out of bed at the sound of our puddytat being attacked!
As many of you know, (via my Facebook page) we have a beautiful, small, loving, timid, little puddytat, 'Jem', (short for Jemima, her given name by the Milton Keynes & District Cats Protection where she came from) - who is quite happy to wander around our front or back garden during the day time, but rarely goes out in the dark; but for her convenience, we've a cat-flap let into the back door.
However, last night, at 3am, the bruiser-tom from 2-doors up entered via said cat-flap, and having got as far as the lounge, was sussed by our Jem, whereupon an almighty cat fight ensued! ... Except 'Bruiser-Tom' didn't expect Jem to put up such a crackin' good counter attack, repelling the intruder with the most ghastly of screeches and, no doubt, paws-n-claws flying! (Pure speculation on my part, but the morning showed how that dratted tom-cat had exited the kitchen, through the cat-flap, SO fast, he's broken the flap hinge off and burst the cat-flap frame screws out from the back door!
Of course, at 3am, when awoken with a Banshee-like screech, yowls, and the sounds of a mighty cat fight, I just jumped out of bed and shot into the dining room and kitchen, switching on every light as I went through - and blinking hard against the light! - to find our Jem with the bushiest of tails, but not a scratch on her, guarding the hole where the cat-flap had been!
I've installed a 9mm 'Kalashnikov' sub-machine gun pointing through the cat flap, and on CCTV/PIR alert now... Jem says, "Make my day, punk!" (Joke! Seriously, I *do not* do cruelty to animals... even 'orrid bruiser-toms!)
In fact, though I'm a morning person, and quite happy to rise at 7am, the "early hours" of the morning are for 'Zees', NOT jumping out of bed at the sound of our puddytat being attacked!
As many of you know, (via my Facebook page) we have a beautiful, small, loving, timid, little puddytat, 'Jem', (short for Jemima, her given name by the Milton Keynes & District Cats Protection where she came from) - who is quite happy to wander around our front or back garden during the day time, but rarely goes out in the dark; but for her convenience, we've a cat-flap let into the back door.
However, last night, at 3am, the bruiser-tom from 2-doors up entered via said cat-flap, and having got as far as the lounge, was sussed by our Jem, whereupon an almighty cat fight ensued! ... Except 'Bruiser-Tom' didn't expect Jem to put up such a crackin' good counter attack, repelling the intruder with the most ghastly of screeches and, no doubt, paws-n-claws flying! (Pure speculation on my part, but the morning showed how that dratted tom-cat had exited the kitchen, through the cat-flap, SO fast, he's broken the flap hinge off and burst the cat-flap frame screws out from the back door!
Of course, at 3am, when awoken with a Banshee-like screech, yowls, and the sounds of a mighty cat fight, I just jumped out of bed and shot into the dining room and kitchen, switching on every light as I went through - and blinking hard against the light! - to find our Jem with the bushiest of tails, but not a scratch on her, guarding the hole where the cat-flap had been!
I've installed a 9mm 'Kalashnikov' sub-machine gun pointing through the cat flap, and on CCTV/PIR alert now... Jem says, "Make my day, punk!" (Joke! Seriously, I *do not* do cruelty to animals... even 'orrid bruiser-toms!)
Sunday, 1 March 2015
The First Day of Spring 2015
It's Sunday, the 1st of March, St David's Day, and, meteorologically, the First Day of Spring!
Well, first thing this morning... that is 8am... (come on... it is Sunday, after all!)... it was lovely and sunny; a clear, breezy, mild morning, here in Great Linford. The writer seriously thought about having his breakfast in the Summerhouse, but after spending 10 minutes in the garden, clearing out pussycat's dirt box, feeding the birds, and just generally praising God for a beautiful morning, he felt the keenness of that breeze; which, even as he stood there, was developing into a strong, chilly, wind!
By the time the missus and I were ship-shape and ready to go to church, this beautiful, sunny, morning had turned into a dull grey sky, with even greyer clouds scudding along, dark and ominous, and depositing a touch of drizzle as we motored to church. "April showers." said she, as the windscreen suddenly got spattered as if someone had turned on a hose. "You always say that." I replied, "How can it be 'April showers' in March?"
Stupid boy, you just opened the door to your wife's wealth of memories of growing up on the farm, down in Kent, and all the country folklore she learned at her mother's knee, out in the fields. "The weather doesn't know it's still only March." she replied, sage-like. "Of course April showers can start in March ... and finish in May... You know, they're the showers that suddenly descend from an otherwise bright, sunny, sky. Quick, blustery, downpours, or gentle sprinklings from a fluffy white cloud. And that's what we've got this morning, April showers! Look: over towards the West, there's still enough blue to make a sailor a pair of trousers." she said, remembering the age-old weather idiom about patches of blue sky shining through developing rain clouds. Blue being the colour of sailor's trousers long ago; and having sufficient 'blue' to patch, let alone make, a sailor's trousers, gave a really positive outlook on the weather one was experiencing! The more 'blue' the better it must be getting, that is, the showers lessening, and soon the sun would be out again!
However, showers apart, other signs that "Spring has sprung!" can be seen along the centre verges of the dual carriageways here in MK - they're festooned with gorgeous yellow Crocus; and Daffodils are evident, too, by their long green leaves, now several inches tall above the grass. From the look of them, it seems it won't be long before we see their flaring, golden 'trumpets', truly announcing the best, and finest, season of them all - Springtime!
In our garden we've Bluebells and Crocus pushing through the dark winter earth of the borders, and dozens of the miniature Daffodils beginning to show under the Bay Tree, and a bunch of Sweet Violets are already in bloom under the Hawthorn tree. On the grass border along the roadside, are slender mauve Crocus, always only a few, spread across a square yard of grass, but there every Spring to cheer me as I walk to the car. Swelling buds on the Hazel and Crab Apple trees; the Cherry and the Silver Birch, along the border by our car parking places, and all these flowering plants pushing their way into the sunny mornings, how can I not agree with my lovely wife when she rightly says, "April showers [which can occur even in March!] bring forth Spring flowers!" Happy 1st Day of Spring, dear readers!
Well, first thing this morning... that is 8am... (come on... it is Sunday, after all!)... it was lovely and sunny; a clear, breezy, mild morning, here in Great Linford. The writer seriously thought about having his breakfast in the Summerhouse, but after spending 10 minutes in the garden, clearing out pussycat's dirt box, feeding the birds, and just generally praising God for a beautiful morning, he felt the keenness of that breeze; which, even as he stood there, was developing into a strong, chilly, wind!
By the time the missus and I were ship-shape and ready to go to church, this beautiful, sunny, morning had turned into a dull grey sky, with even greyer clouds scudding along, dark and ominous, and depositing a touch of drizzle as we motored to church. "April showers." said she, as the windscreen suddenly got spattered as if someone had turned on a hose. "You always say that." I replied, "How can it be 'April showers' in March?"
Stupid boy, you just opened the door to your wife's wealth of memories of growing up on the farm, down in Kent, and all the country folklore she learned at her mother's knee, out in the fields. "The weather doesn't know it's still only March." she replied, sage-like. "Of course April showers can start in March ... and finish in May... You know, they're the showers that suddenly descend from an otherwise bright, sunny, sky. Quick, blustery, downpours, or gentle sprinklings from a fluffy white cloud. And that's what we've got this morning, April showers! Look: over towards the West, there's still enough blue to make a sailor a pair of trousers." she said, remembering the age-old weather idiom about patches of blue sky shining through developing rain clouds. Blue being the colour of sailor's trousers long ago; and having sufficient 'blue' to patch, let alone make, a sailor's trousers, gave a really positive outlook on the weather one was experiencing! The more 'blue' the better it must be getting, that is, the showers lessening, and soon the sun would be out again!
However, showers apart, other signs that "Spring has sprung!" can be seen along the centre verges of the dual carriageways here in MK - they're festooned with gorgeous yellow Crocus; and Daffodils are evident, too, by their long green leaves, now several inches tall above the grass. From the look of them, it seems it won't be long before we see their flaring, golden 'trumpets', truly announcing the best, and finest, season of them all - Springtime!
In our garden we've Bluebells and Crocus pushing through the dark winter earth of the borders, and dozens of the miniature Daffodils beginning to show under the Bay Tree, and a bunch of Sweet Violets are already in bloom under the Hawthorn tree. On the grass border along the roadside, are slender mauve Crocus, always only a few, spread across a square yard of grass, but there every Spring to cheer me as I walk to the car. Swelling buds on the Hazel and Crab Apple trees; the Cherry and the Silver Birch, along the border by our car parking places, and all these flowering plants pushing their way into the sunny mornings, how can I not agree with my lovely wife when she rightly says, "April showers [which can occur even in March!] bring forth Spring flowers!" Happy 1st Day of Spring, dear readers!
Tuesday, 17 February 2015
The New Pussycat on the Block
Seems I'm not that good at blogging, as it's been nearly a year since my previous post. And in that post - just after our handsome cat, "Peeps", unexpectedly died, I posed the question of whether we would ever want to have another pussycat? After all, whenever a truly-loved pet dies, it is always hard to believe you could ever have another; because, surely, the one just passed away was the best ever, and no other could hold a candle to it...
Watch this space, I'd written. And indeed, 6 months later - last September - our friend Julie, who volunteers with MK Cats Protection, told us about a gorgeous little tortoiseshell 'puddytat' which MKCP had just rescued. She showed us a photo of her - Jemima, they'd called her, and said she was presently in quarantine whilst she weaned her 3 kittens! Poor little mite was only about a year old, and already a 'mummy'!
Well, the photo of 'Jemima' helped us decide to arrange a visit to the MKCP foster-carer, looking after Jemima until she was re-homed. Once seen, we were smitten! She's only a tiny little cat, and even now, 5 months after we adopted her, she still looks more like a kitten than an adult cat which has had kittens! MK Cats Protection organised a vet to neuter and vaccinate Jemima before we adopted her, and once we took her on, we registered her at our veterinary practice, had her 'chipped', and bought pet-health insurance.
'Jemima' came to live with us on 5th September 2014 and very quickly made herself at home! We decided that 'Jemima' was a bit of long name to have to call out every evening if she went 'walkabout', so we shortened it to 'Jem' - and she soon got used to her 'new' name. But we didn't have to worry about her wandering off down the road, or, (worse,) going over the back fence and through the copse to the main road, just 50 yards behind our bungalow... She's only ever once been over the back fence, and only ever once gone out of the front garden! She really is a home-loving pussycat, and gets all the fun and exercise she needs racing about our home, or back garden, chasing birds and squirrels! And she's such a playful little thing! She loves nothing more than tossing a ball-point pen or a pencil around the floor; and has lots of fun chasing her furry balls, or "killing" her furry rat. And after a good chase-about, her equal next pleasure is to stretch out, lengthwise, down Ann's lap or down between my legs, as we sit in our reclining chairs.
So 'Peeps' remains a beloved pet, but 'Jem' has taken her place as our treasured, and much-loved pussycat, and we trust we'll have her energetic and lively character for many years to come!
Watch this space, I'd written. And indeed, 6 months later - last September - our friend Julie, who volunteers with MK Cats Protection, told us about a gorgeous little tortoiseshell 'puddytat' which MKCP had just rescued. She showed us a photo of her - Jemima, they'd called her, and said she was presently in quarantine whilst she weaned her 3 kittens! Poor little mite was only about a year old, and already a 'mummy'!
Well, the photo of 'Jemima' helped us decide to arrange a visit to the MKCP foster-carer, looking after Jemima until she was re-homed. Once seen, we were smitten! She's only a tiny little cat, and even now, 5 months after we adopted her, she still looks more like a kitten than an adult cat which has had kittens! MK Cats Protection organised a vet to neuter and vaccinate Jemima before we adopted her, and once we took her on, we registered her at our veterinary practice, had her 'chipped', and bought pet-health insurance.
'Jemima' came to live with us on 5th September 2014 and very quickly made herself at home! We decided that 'Jemima' was a bit of long name to have to call out every evening if she went 'walkabout', so we shortened it to 'Jem' - and she soon got used to her 'new' name. But we didn't have to worry about her wandering off down the road, or, (worse,) going over the back fence and through the copse to the main road, just 50 yards behind our bungalow... She's only ever once been over the back fence, and only ever once gone out of the front garden! She really is a home-loving pussycat, and gets all the fun and exercise she needs racing about our home, or back garden, chasing birds and squirrels! And she's such a playful little thing! She loves nothing more than tossing a ball-point pen or a pencil around the floor; and has lots of fun chasing her furry balls, or "killing" her furry rat. And after a good chase-about, her equal next pleasure is to stretch out, lengthwise, down Ann's lap or down between my legs, as we sit in our reclining chairs.
So 'Peeps' remains a beloved pet, but 'Jem' has taken her place as our treasured, and much-loved pussycat, and we trust we'll have her energetic and lively character for many years to come!
Monday, 24 March 2014
"Peeps" - The results of the Post Mortem
It's been 11 days since we lost our beautiful, loving, pussycat, "Peeps". And 10 days since we got the results of our veterinary surgeon's post mortem report.
When our vet phoned me with the report of how poor little Peeps died - (little? He must've weighed 14lbs / 7kg at least!) - anyway, when she phoned me with the result, the day after he died, it was really quite 'liberating', as I'd been kicking myself for 24 hours that "if only I hadn't let him out into the front garden and left him there...". She informed me that he died of 'Sudden Death Syndrome' - the same condition that has claimed the lives of some very fit, energetic, sportsmen in recent years. He also had an enlarged heart, and the heart attack which killed him might have occurred at any time - even as he scampered round our living room... It was a real comfort to me, to know it wasn't "my fault".
When we left Peeps at the vets that Thursday evening (13th March), we'd also instructed them that after the 'PM' to send his remains for cremation and return them in a wooden casket, with his name on a brass plaque, as we've done with all our other pets... And each one now rests on the floor of the summerhouse, where we can continue to see and remember them; and their individual characters.
We got Peeps 'back' today. I phoned the vets and went and collected him this afternoon. The crematorium which our veterinary practice uses has been the same throughout the years we've owned pets, and finally had to say goodbye to them, and so the caskets are identical in design and construction - a fine, light, hardwood - and when returned from the crematorium there is always a condolence card contained in the package - a really nice touch, and *so* helpful to a grieving pet owner.
So that closes that chapter of our lives, but, like the memories of "Jen", (my wonderful German Shepherd dog, who I had before I met and married Ann), "Whisky", (the cat that came with our bungalow when we bought it, back in '86), "Lynx", the most soft, loving, pussycat, who stayed as small as a kitten all his life), "Peer", a big, bruiser of a cat who finally softened and loved being cuddled by the time he passed away, and lastly "Peeps", the biggest, most colourful - ginger & white - most adoring of his "Mummy" pussycat who's short life with us was, at least, the happiest 6 months of his two and a half years... ...
Will we have another pussycat? Watch this space!
When our vet phoned me with the report of how poor little Peeps died - (little? He must've weighed 14lbs / 7kg at least!) - anyway, when she phoned me with the result, the day after he died, it was really quite 'liberating', as I'd been kicking myself for 24 hours that "if only I hadn't let him out into the front garden and left him there...". She informed me that he died of 'Sudden Death Syndrome' - the same condition that has claimed the lives of some very fit, energetic, sportsmen in recent years. He also had an enlarged heart, and the heart attack which killed him might have occurred at any time - even as he scampered round our living room... It was a real comfort to me, to know it wasn't "my fault".
When we left Peeps at the vets that Thursday evening (13th March), we'd also instructed them that after the 'PM' to send his remains for cremation and return them in a wooden casket, with his name on a brass plaque, as we've done with all our other pets... And each one now rests on the floor of the summerhouse, where we can continue to see and remember them; and their individual characters.
We got Peeps 'back' today. I phoned the vets and went and collected him this afternoon. The crematorium which our veterinary practice uses has been the same throughout the years we've owned pets, and finally had to say goodbye to them, and so the caskets are identical in design and construction - a fine, light, hardwood - and when returned from the crematorium there is always a condolence card contained in the package - a really nice touch, and *so* helpful to a grieving pet owner.
So that closes that chapter of our lives, but, like the memories of "Jen", (my wonderful German Shepherd dog, who I had before I met and married Ann), "Whisky", (the cat that came with our bungalow when we bought it, back in '86), "Lynx", the most soft, loving, pussycat, who stayed as small as a kitten all his life), "Peer", a big, bruiser of a cat who finally softened and loved being cuddled by the time he passed away, and lastly "Peeps", the biggest, most colourful - ginger & white - most adoring of his "Mummy" pussycat who's short life with us was, at least, the happiest 6 months of his two and a half years... ...
Will we have another pussycat? Watch this space!
Friday, 14 March 2014
A Short, Intensely Powerful, Era, Has Come To An End
I really cannot take it in just now. Our handsome, nay, beautiful, ginger pussycat, "Peeps"; so loving, so adoring of Ann, my wife, so much a scamp, so fun to watch playing with his toy mouse, or a newspaper on the floor... has died, suddenly - cause currently unknown - yesterday afternoon.
It was a lovely, sunny, mild day, and I'd let Peeps out into the front garden for a 'change'. Peeps rarely went out the front, preferring just our back garden, and which we, only once, ever saw him jump up onto the back fence as if to go 'exploring' elsewhere, but he never did. In fact, even when the back gate was opened to take the wheelie-bin and recycling bags round to the front of our property, ready for the "Bin Men", Peeps would never venture past the gateway! I don't think he was a 'wuss', as they say these days, I think he was just too unsure of the big, bullying, cat from two-doors up, to want to venture out.
But yesterday, I thought I'd let him out into the front garden - he wanted to come with me while I replenished the bird food in the feeders and bird table - and, as it was daylight, I figured I'd see how he arrived back inside our bungalow through the back door? Did he come over the roof? Did he go down the side alleyway and then over the back fence? Considering he never ever jumped over the back fences, just *how* did he get back indoors when he went out the front? All previous times for this, was night time - because we only got him last October, so this Spring we were *really* looking forward to seeing how he liked the south-facing (so *very* sunny) back garden. Now we'll never know.
After an hour of him being out the front and not returning - highly unusual for Peeps - I went to find out where he'd got to. And found him just inside our next door neighbour's front gate, very recently dead.
I couldn't believe my eyes! "Peeps!" I cried, and looked around for meanings... There were no visible signs of poisoned foodstuff, or saucers of antifreeze (a common poison used by cat-haters); nor a sign of a scuffle with another cat. No visible wounds, broken bones from a car hitting him - and the driver then moving him off-road into our neighbour's garden - nothing to tell me how he'd expired so suddenly, at hardly three years old, and apparently still as fit as a kitten...
We've taken him to our veterinary practice for a post mortem, and they say the results - such as they will be - they'll communicate to us this afternoon.
Actually, I don't think I can write anymore, I'm getting choked up...
It was a lovely, sunny, mild day, and I'd let Peeps out into the front garden for a 'change'. Peeps rarely went out the front, preferring just our back garden, and which we, only once, ever saw him jump up onto the back fence as if to go 'exploring' elsewhere, but he never did. In fact, even when the back gate was opened to take the wheelie-bin and recycling bags round to the front of our property, ready for the "Bin Men", Peeps would never venture past the gateway! I don't think he was a 'wuss', as they say these days, I think he was just too unsure of the big, bullying, cat from two-doors up, to want to venture out.
But yesterday, I thought I'd let him out into the front garden - he wanted to come with me while I replenished the bird food in the feeders and bird table - and, as it was daylight, I figured I'd see how he arrived back inside our bungalow through the back door? Did he come over the roof? Did he go down the side alleyway and then over the back fence? Considering he never ever jumped over the back fences, just *how* did he get back indoors when he went out the front? All previous times for this, was night time - because we only got him last October, so this Spring we were *really* looking forward to seeing how he liked the south-facing (so *very* sunny) back garden. Now we'll never know.
After an hour of him being out the front and not returning - highly unusual for Peeps - I went to find out where he'd got to. And found him just inside our next door neighbour's front gate, very recently dead.
I couldn't believe my eyes! "Peeps!" I cried, and looked around for meanings... There were no visible signs of poisoned foodstuff, or saucers of antifreeze (a common poison used by cat-haters); nor a sign of a scuffle with another cat. No visible wounds, broken bones from a car hitting him - and the driver then moving him off-road into our neighbour's garden - nothing to tell me how he'd expired so suddenly, at hardly three years old, and apparently still as fit as a kitten...
We've taken him to our veterinary practice for a post mortem, and they say the results - such as they will be - they'll communicate to us this afternoon.
Actually, I don't think I can write anymore, I'm getting choked up...
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