Have I anything to apologise for this morning? I don't think so however I do get the blame for most things around here so I'm sure there is something that's my fault so 'Apologies for whatever.' If you have something which you are sure is my fault just drop me a note and I'll apologise for it. My mother-in-laws neighbour, years ago, had eight children (Irish!) and the youngest of them was always acting the maggot. Every time he passed her she swiped him one on the premise that 'If he isn't coming from trouble, he's going to trouble, and if he isn't either of those things then he's thinking about what trouble to be in.' And she'd clatter him one on the back of the legs. Now, and this might surprise some of you, I don't approve of smacking children being very firmly on the side of the 'no' debate, but sometimes I understand how that woman felt. However for her youngest child substitute my writing partner. Only if she isn't coming from dropping me in it, she's going to drop me in it, or she's thinking how she can drop me in it.

Take last night for instance, she wails at me that certain people have been mean to her and I have to go and do something about it. Now, I may be a bit soft but I'm learning. There's always something else going on in that twisted, sleekit wee mind of hers. So, I asked what they'd done and she waffled on about how she was hard done to, and such like. Do you know what it was? She wanted me to go thump around me a bit, get into trouble myself and then she'd know if I was a possibility for protection when she really gets herself in the mire. I love her and all that but if she thinks I'm going to stir the Scary Duo she really is one marley short of a game.

The cat at the top of the page ( sorry had to go and have quick look to see if she was still there - and don't you bother running in to change it or it'll not be the SD who get a look at my 'teacher's really pissed off' face)....... where was I? Oh, yes, the cat at the top of the page is yer woman's but amongst other things that are alike about us (we are not the same person, contrary to popular belief around here) is that I've cats too. Two of them, a blond showboat who lives up to her hair colour, and a black as coal witch's cat who lives up to that reputation.

Yesterday the Black One kept walking down the hall past me to the back door, coming back to put her head around the door of the living room, and delivering a look and a noise which implied 'What the heck is keeping you woman? Come and open the back door. I've things I could be stalking here.' The blond one's party trick is take a run at the door, leap to the handle and if she has gathered enough momentum, swings the door open. Her face when she doesn't get up enough speed is hilarious as she tries to drop from the door handle without anyone noticing that she's failed. Anyway, the Black One doesn't believe in doing anything for herself that she can get a human to do, so she stands at the door and caterwauls. And she kept doing this, and I kept shouting at the kids for obviously leaving doors open and letting her in as the only window open downstairs was the one in the utility room. This door was shut on account that I might notice the amount of ironing that's built up again and thus giving me an excuse to leave the story I'm trying to finish. "How is that cat getting in if you're not leaving the door open every time you're traipsing through then? directed at youngest child who gave me the 'I get blamed for everything around here' look that he does so well.

Then the male half of the neighbours from heaven came to the door. "Come here missus till ye see wat thon aminal'o'yorn's up till." (translated for those who aren't fluent in country Norn Irish which is the only language Robert speaks; Maybe you would like to step outside with me and watch what your cat is doing now.)

So, I joined him on the front wall and watched the Black One climb a tree. Nothing unusual about that - she normally is after wood pigeons larger than herself. She walked along a branch and then flung herself at the telegraph pole next to the house clinging on to it with her legs wrapped around it. At this point I guldered at her and she sent me a look of 'Shut up, I've been doing this all day and you've only just worked out what I've been up to.' Robert told me to 'Houl yer wheest woman' ( wait patiently and quietly a minute my dear). She then looked as if she was winding up a spring as she pushed herself off the pole and jumped for the roof, slid down the slates a little and did a 'Ha, just winding you up. You thought I was going to fall' look and then disappeared through the Velux window. Robert who being a farmer always appreciates the actions of animals said ' Now that's clever - no goats toe thon one' By the time I got to the back door she was waiting for it to be opened for Her Witchedness. I got a look which said 'You have to get up a bit earlier if you want to keep me out of the house.'

Even the flippin cat treats me like an eejit!

There lovey, another day done. Oh, and if someone could do a spellchecker which recognises my accent I'd be ever grateful - the yellow boxes on here are nearly as bad as Scally's pink ones.