Well the cat is a bit more settled, and he has now taken to exploring his perimeter. This includes a building site which he seems overly interested in, and I’m not too pleased with his choice of playground, but what can you do. Well, I suppose you can keep him locked inside and put up with his incessant, piercing yowls, but I recommend you not do that. It is hard to block that out. Part of his route involves a nimble walk across a brick wall which, from my viewpoint, is only about 8 feet above the ground. I didn’t actually realise that on the other side of that wall is a terrifying 20 foot drop to a below-ground basement level. Nice. Still, to a cat, a brick wall is like an eight-lane freeway, so I’m confident he can navigate his way around. He is locked inside at present during the day until I am sure he knows where he is and how to get back into the house. I’m hopeful tomorrow he can roam free, free like the wind blows. And maybe then he’ll stop yowling. Free like the grass grows … la la somethingsomething LAAAAA.
Sadly, a work trip to North Queensland was cancelled today, which is unfortunate. For me, anyway. It’s probably quite fortunate for the denizens of North Queensland, who have been narrowly spared the sight of my blinding, incandescent whiteness on their lovely beaches. Do you know, there are quite a lot of English people where I work, and I am whiter than they. MORE PALE THAN THE ENGLISH. I have no words.
… no wait, I’ve found some more words. I got a fridge & washing machine delivered on Sunday, and as I directed the delivery guy up into the house, he said, “So what part of New Zealand are you from?” I swear I had said seven words: “Hey, I’ll get the door for you.” None of which have traditional New Zealand inflections. Funnily enough, several hours earlier I was asked, “What’s your accent? Is it English?” I blame the blinding whiteness of my skin. And my habit of calling people “guvnor”.