'For every house is incompleat without him'

cat
Originally uploaded by RichardBadly.

The chilly gusting wind and rain became light snow by Sunday midnight.  I like this picture of Richard and Flea, who keeps the Lord's watch in the night against the adversary. 

No-one wrote better about a cat than Christopher Smart about Jeoffry.

For he counteracts the powers of darkness by his electrical skin and glaring eyes. For he counteracts the Devil, who is death, by brisking about the life.

How fortunate we are to have a cat and dog in the household, especially Flea, who's decided our house is hers and Oscar who is our dog. Flea's not biddable like Oscar, who happily travels with us, and comes to our call. Flea like all cat's I've known relates more to the place and tolerates its fellow inhabitants, while Oscar, like most dogs, relates generously to people. He will go wherever we go, including riding in my bicycle basket since he was a puppy. When we feed Oscar we feed another member of the family. When we put out food for Flea, it's an offering to a household daemon. Though he can enter smaller places, Oscar moves around in the same dimensions as us. Flea moves up and down too, leaving by the front door, re-entering via the attic, occupying niches tested with whiskers lengthier than Oscar's. He invites stroking. She allows it. Both are delightful to have around.

Blood and geography

Party for 75th Donors

I've been approached by a researcher from my own university and interviewed about blood. R is exploring relationships between blood and identity among blood donors who, like me, are O rhesus positive - the commonest type. We met and chatted in Starbucks, Colmore Row, for several hours. Seeing R's website I'm intrigued to see where this research will go and look forward to further involvement in her Phd. I'm up to 83 donations now. It feels easy, even enjoyable, and I've been doing it for so long and have become so accustomed to the process, I don't think about who gets my blood or the significance of the process of giving and receiving it. I'm thinking about it now and chatting to a researcher about this is a lot more interesting than the forced-choice phone MORI poll in which, by chance, I'd participated earlier in the day on my attitude to Information Technology. One felt like an exchange, the other like a donation - though MORI will give £20 to a charity of my choice in return for my participation. I chose RoadPeace. I realise now that a most significant event which I hardly remember because it was handled undramatically, at a dramatic time, was that Lin, who is Rhesus B negative, got a small jab at the time of Richard's birth, which prevented her creating antibodies that could, depending on our daughter's blood group, have been fatal to her when she was born four years later. A life threatening problem has now, through pre-natal data collection and minor intervention, become, to all intents and purposes, a non-problem. A fine example of the 'banality of good' * * * Had tea with Z this afternoon, at her house, where a guest room is ready for Dh. Our Iraki friend arrives at Heathrow soon. Friends, including Kate from CARA, will meet him at the airport and drive him to Birmingham. Z's away that day and so gave me spare keys and a briefing on turning on heating, rooms, cupboards, the shower and so on, before she returns later in the evening. This week I'll tighten up arrangements for Dh's arrival at the university the following day. He's survived daunting paperwork to get to the UK, and will now need to steer his wife and children here, while starting his Phd and finding campus accommodation for his family. * * * As well as Oscar, we have now got a tabby cat called Flea living here - a tiger in the house. She arrived temporarily a three months ago and looks as if she's decided to stay. She and Oscar co-exist by maintaining diplomatic distance. [CLICK on the picture of the cat and get ready to go 'Awwww!!' Then note the colour of the eyes. Definitely Greek, though whenever I think cat I think of Christopher Smart's cat Jeffry from Jubilate Agno - links there with Axion Esti. Richard's recent picture of Flea] An exchange with a Greek friend - CORFU KNICKERS CRISIS:

I get so much pleasure - and amusement - whenever I revisit your photos. I don't understand enough Greek to get all the humour but it feels infectious. We are recently returned from Corfu to enjoy some good rain, grey sky and chilly weather, and will return after Christmas. There was an 'incident' about which I wanted to ask your opinion, A young man called F has a sailing boat moored in xxx Harbour which he is fitting out. One day last month he hoisted his girl friend's knickers on the same halliard as his Greek courtesy flag (which foreign yachts always fly in Greek waters). 4 big policemen arrived in a 4 X 4 and asked his dad - living on another English yacht close by - if he knew who had done this crime. G said 'it's my son's boat'. Because F was under 21 his father is responsible for his son's actions and so he has been charged with a crime and must appear in court, probably in January 08. Do you know what is the best thing he should say in his and his son's defence? The pants were after all 'under' not 'above' the Greek flag and as soon as the police insisted the knickers - very very small ones - were immediately lowered. I know how important the Greek flag is to many Greeks but it is very difficult for British people to understand the meaning of the flag in Greek culture. I wondered if G could show your photo to the Judge (:)) Yours enjoyably, Simon

Reply:

hahahahaha! F is my personal hero! I fancy him! Go F go! That's what I would do if I were him! Much more things in life are more important than a 'patrida' and the love (sexual or emotional) for a woman is one of them! If F thinks his girlfriend is more important than any flag then he did all right hoisting her panties on that halliard! Go F! woohoo! stupid flags and what they represent! It is a tricky situation. Policemen in Greece are ummm... brutal, narrow minded, dumb and racists. If he (his father G) makes it to the court he should plead guilty and ask for forgiveness. The judge will not be harsh on him. Since that incident didn't make it to the news and there is no publicity to the matter it will be ok. The public opinion in Greece is against english tourists. But G can squeez himself through if he says something like 'F was drunk' or 'we just had it washed and we hoisted it up that sail to dry it'. I am not good at legal advice though! Mind me not! and yes he can show my foto to the judge. Hell, he can use my real name if he wants! But I don't know if this will help him! I hope it turns out good for G (and F)! Poor boy! hahahahahaha! knickers!

Reply:

Dear X. Your laughter is a breath of fresh air, Freedom!! Thanks for your mix of humour, sympathy and wise advice. Of course I won't show your photo - unless G faces death (:)) English people never get drunk, blasted, plastered, blotto, intoxicated, dipso, high, hammered, juiced up, pickled, legless or zonked, so the judge will not accept that excuse. 'We just had it washed ....' hahahahahahahahahahaha! That would be cheeky! I guess G could argue that when asked to take down the girl's knickers they were pulled down v.quickly. Do you think that would wash with the Judge? I just remembered that when those eccentric British plane spotters were in a bad place their Greek lawyer got them clemency when it was discovered there were also Greeks who indulged in the weird hobby of plane spotting (επισήμανση αεροπλάνων?). Much respect, Simon

Postscript to the above letter:

Friend. I am excited by this lecture about a play by Nikos Kazantzakis that I did not know about. As we left Venice for Greece on the ferry last February we met a man in leathers - a philosopher - on a motorbike travelling to Corfu. His name was Kapodistrias. I did not then know this name or what it meant. And then I read about the first governor of free Greece and his assassination. Then I read Kazantzakis after you had told me how you respected this writer but I did not know that in 1944 he had written a tragedy called Capodistria about the last few days in his hero's life, which said much about the paradox and tensions of modern Greek politics. Herete. Simon

The British are relaxed about their flag

Preparing to depart

Monday, April 30, 2007
0125. We packed up the boat, had a cheeseburger at CJs and drove up to Ano. The island dotted with lights and the sea sparkling below a waxing moon. We stepped over the threshold and made a cup of tea and coffee after unpacking and putting hotwater bottles in our bed. I had a shower and went upstairs. I can hear Lin tidying in the kitchen and far away muffled barking and what might be a nightjar. The roofers are back in the morning to finish up.
Sunday midday seeing our neighbour sat outside his front door doing a Sudoko puzzle I took him orange juice with ice. A friend said later “Next time try adding a little lemon to the orange. It adds something.” Our neighbours replied to the drink with a heaped plate of olives – small ones from Corfu for making oil and middle and large from a brother in Sparta for eating – as well as oil.
Discarded stones can be cast into the greenery edging our alley. He has a smallholding above the village growing oranges, lemons, garlic, onion, potatoes. Tracing the letters on his palm he said he was 65. “We are the same age. Which month?” “May” “Me March 29. I'm two months older”. This parity was enjoyed and shared with our closest, me to Lin and my neighbour to a daughter, mother, of the small siblings we’ve seen and heard playing in the garden.
* * *
I’ve had an uncomfortable exchange with the builder whose estimate for the roof work was too high. I phoned him because the bedroom sockets don’t work. He wouldn’t discuss it preferring to tell me that I’d made a bad mistake with my our chosen roofers. There was no gainsaying the man. Phones are bad for this kind of exchange. I suggested coming to see him directly but he was unenthusiastic. I found an extension cable so we could have bedside lights.


Saturday, April 28, 2007
Our first water bill was delivered by the shopkeeper yesterday. Work continues on the roof and we’ve accepted a tender to pave part of the garden and remove one of the upstairs walls. “It’ll be done when you’re back!” That seems ages away.
We’ll be going home Tuesday afternoon. Our roofer said “Your roof will done by then.” It was raining this morning, the work secured with a sheet of plastic. Extra tiles, mortar mix, insulation, wax paper were delivered and stacked this morning. We’re thinking we’ve now got a mix of people doing work we can afford and with whom we can keep in touch by e-mail, who trust us enough to cover cash flow delays, and who understand our wishes. After the electrics, the renewing of the kitchen, hall and downstairs bedroom ceilings and the roof comes making one space out of the two front upstairs bedrooms, with the wood stove and flue moved to its eastern wall, and the stairs widened. Then we could have the garden part tiled – over the flattened rubble.
Word of mouth led us to holiday flats in Pyrgi being refurnished. We salvaged a cane sitting room suite with cushions and a low table, drove it home, and lifted it upstairs with a rope over the balcony.