Thursday 12 March 2009

It was an ignoble death.

We had been partners for so long, sharing in almost all of our finest expeditions, until fate's spiny claws intervened and parted us for evermore.

Yes, our Little Green Corsa is no more. This bereavement, and the shock and hassle that result from any sudden death in a family, accounts for my lengthy blog silence.

Last Friday, my partner and I were involved in a rather nasty car crash. She was driving, needless to say (it would not have happened had I been at the wheel). Whilst I escaped uninjured from the accident scene, the same cannot be said for our sweet little car. It suffered a swift but decisive death. My partner suffered a minor injury to her leg and is somewhat shaken up (being of less-hardy stuff than myself). We have thus found ourselves stranded in our new house (STILL with no heating, I might add - though hopefully this is being finally remedied today) - and with no computer. My tool of bloggery has not yet been transferred to our new house, so my partner was despatched to work with instructions to type up my entry during her lunch break. Happily, I was able to bark all I wanted to say into a Dictaphone, and I trust my partner not to edit my words.

What a week it has been. Quite aside from the trauma of the accident, we have felt much sadness in parting with our Little Green Corsa. It has carried us to Wales twice, to Dartmoor for many happy holidays, to Colchester (and Jasper's Green) for the Jane Austen shenanigans, and to the starting point of too many walks to enumerate. Tears were shed as we said farewell to the battered remains of our old friend.

We still have no washing machine in our new house either. That is to bark, we DO have a washing machine - but a previous occupant of our house stopped up the pipe so that it cannot be plumbed in. So, last Saturday, my partner and I climbed the hill to walk to her parents' house (they were away) with a full load of washing. I did not help matters when I made a bolt for it upon passing the vets (I feared I would be taken in). Washing was dropped and hastily retrieved, while I was called a variety of unflattering names. But my partner's mother has been very good, kindly ferrying us to work and to shops for sustenance. We are going to look at two cars tonight. Lack of money forbids spending any more than £500 or so on our new chariot, but we are reasonably confident that we won't be landed with a complete turkey of a wagon. So far our choice seems to be a Peugeot (possibly a bit dodgy) or a Renault Megane (my preferred option - 'tis of similar colour to our Little Green Corsa. And the Peugeot doesn't have an in-car stereo - always a necessary function).

I have warned my partner that I shall not be planting my sweet little bottom in a knackered old jalopy. I think she understands.

Despite this upheaval in our outdoor life, my partner and I are still enjoying being in our new house (apart from lack of heating, computer, washing machine, etc.). I must say, the massive new double-bed is a definite improvement - SO much space for me to spread out. The fact that my partner has to sleep precariously balanced on the edge of the bed as she did in our old single one provides a nice touch of continuity for her, I feel.

I am still sure that someone is watching me whenever I am in our garden. I know it's not Starsky, because I can see into his garden, but I can feel a pair of eyes burning holes in my fur whenever I step outside for a pee. It is most unsettling. But have no fear - I will unearth the shadowy rogue in time.

"Ewan's World of Cheese" is not appearing alongside this entry. I have told him that he either cleans up his act, or he's not getting on my blog again. He has promised to try harder. I don't hold out much hope. He has assured me that his next offering will be factually correct, to a point that I find it acceptable. He'd better, or there will be some nipping around here - Fizzy or no Fizzy.

Good afternoon.

Sunday 1 March 2009

Well... I'm in. It has been a profoundly moving experience.

My partner and I finally moved into our new home yesterday, after a few weeks of the house being readied for us. The moving itself was exhausting. Well - exhausting to watch; my partner and her parents did the actual work, but I made sure to snore encouragingly.

Our new home is rather cosy, though still crowded with a proliferation of cardboard boxes. I am sick of the sight of boxes - I have seen little else for the past fortnight and today, they had the audacity to block out my afternoon sunbeam. My partner is hastening to unpack and clear my resting area, but I still feel that progress is slower than I would wish.

Be not deceived, however. I am not typing this blog entry from my new abode. The computer has not yet moved across to our place and, as our washing machine is not yet installed, I have taken advantage of my partner doing a load of washing at our old house to upload my thoughts; lest the world at large should suffer from Jasper-deprivation. Oh yes.

Hopefully, my computer will be installed by the end of the week and I will then be in a position to upload some suitable pictures of my new realm.

Last night was the first time that my partner and I slept overnight in our new home. I was excessively comfortable; my partner slightly less so. We had trouble getting the heating to work. To own the truth, we had no heat at all. A friendly neighbour helped to set up the heating timer but, a couple of hours later, the house was still freezing. My partner gave up trying to get the system to work and we retired to bed.

At last, unable to sleep due to the excessive cold, my partner clambered out of bed and had another go at identifying the problem. I was delighted to see just how resourceful she proved to be at half past three in the morning. A mere fifteen minutes later, using a variety of tools including, but not limited to, a screwdriver, a bank card and some nail clippers, she had the boiler working perfectly. Problem solved? You would think so, but no.

Oh no.

For the switching on of the boiler 'tripped' the electricity switch. Procedures were repeated, as were a number of profanities. But, lo, every time the heating was switched on, off went the upstairs lights and power to the cooker and fridge-freezer. Oh, how we laughed...

Not wishing to flood out the kitchen with an unscheduled defrosting of the freezer, off went the heating and the fuse box was reset by a cold and grumbling partner. She trundled back up to bed at around 4.00am.
"Bad news about the heating, Jasper." she muttered, "You're it."

For one awful, heart-stopping moment, I thought I was about to be doused in kerosene and set aflame in order to provide my partner with a few minutes' warmth. Happily, my mind was soon set to rest. All that was required of me was to snuggle up close to her and share the warmth of my belly, and with this I happily complied. An electrical engineer will be summoned on the morrow.

Of course, a removal to my new home means I am at last separated from the wretched society of the hedgehog and the New Cat. I do not mourn their loss. Starsky and I are on slightly better terms, but I have already espied a young ginger cat in the house opposite. So ginger that he could well be the progeny of the New Cat. This would not surprise me, as he was not a discreet man. I don't think there is a hedgepig in my new estate. However, as I was just downloading my last weemail of the day before bedtime last night, I swear I saw a pair of tiny beady eyes blinking at me through the darkness from the other side of the fence (the side where the river flows). It must have been my imagination, as when I turned back to look again there was nothing there at all.

Now then. I have seen Ewan (dog) since my last blog entry and we have had words. I warned him that, if I EVER hear anything like "rivers of cheese", "bucketeers" or "cheese harvesting" again, then he is never allowed to bark on my blog again. He assures me that there is nothing like that in his latest missive. And so, with heavy heart, here he is:

Right. He is NOT getting away with this.

Good night.