...by popular choice, with assistance from some bloggers.
Maybe I should have explained a little more about the variety of names hurled at these two whirlwinds as they go roaring through the house and our lives…
In this part of the world, the term “ratbag” is usually applied to someone whose sense of moral awareness is less than desirable. Bordering on, if not actually, criminal. Frequently used of political persons and juvenile delinquents.
“Ferret” is similarly used to mean a person (or animal) of fiery disposition.Not the sort you’d willingly put in your trousers, unless you were drunk or accepting a very big wager!
“Toe Rag” is another colloquial expression indicating displeasure or misdemeanor.
“Blackjack” has, of course, a piratical ring to it and this is not entirely without merit.
So far, as you see, all derogatory terms.Although, in the case of kittens, bestowed with more affection than spite. And “Curly”… well, that was never really an option. Maybe if they’d been Rex cats…
And now to the names which I think may stay…
One of these little guys has a white “cravat” and a white “sporran.” His brother, all black, has the loudest purr I’ve ever heard ( and I’ve known many cats over the past 60+ years.) I remarked that he sounded like a Geiger-counter in Chernobyl and I guess it’s stuck.
But, somehow, I think they will still be called Ratbag and Toe Rag. Frequently!
Thanks to all who played along. You may send your contributions to the vet’s bill…
Incidentally, I tried to take a picture of Sporran’s sporran, but he doesn’t stand upright for long enough! And, like most little animals, the minute you get the camera focused, they come forward to have a look… W.C.Fields was right about not working with animals!
Sometimes, we must bid farewell to old and valued friends…
For more than 25 years (and god knows how old it was, even then!) I have dragged, shoved, sworn at and generally hated my vacuum cleaner. I have not been able to buy new pipes since Adam was in short trousers and when a small child dropped and cracked the connector three years ago, it was good ol’ duct tape to the rescue.
So why did I not donate it to some doss house or dumpster and buy a new one? Well, the motor was still going strong and whenever I priced new models I got the feeling I was shopping for a bloody Roller! (That’s a Rolls Royce motor car, for the benefit of those who think General Motors rules the world!) Ye gods! For the money asked I could probably buy a fairly large chunk of one of NASA’s rockets. Well, OK, it would likely be a chunk that had fallen off…But you get the point?
But the issue was forced the other day when the plastic connector thingy finally defied the duct tape.
This meant, of course, that I had to venture into stores which sell all manner of electrical wares. Check your calendars, folks. This is NOT a good time to venture into stores which sell all manner of electrical wares!
I saw food mixers with tinsel! Boom boxes with mistletoe! Steam irons with shiny ribbons! And, finally, after scaling a Himalayan pile of wind-up Santas ho-ho-ho-ing and ringing their wretched bells…I saw it!
A price reduced for Xmas tag. Oh frabjous day! Something within my budget!
So now I have a new toy.
Rather like this.
But mine is blue!And it hasn’t a hood.* It does not have a disgusting dust bag to be emptied every five minutes. Hasn’t anyone pointed out to designers that the power of the motor means nixy-plonkers if the dust bag’s capacity is that of an egg cup?
And my toy has what I’d describe as “cruise control.” I can be a dust demon and roar around at high revs or play the lady at low power.
And …none of the cats likes it! I have the whip hand, in a manner of speaking.
It’s pathetic, isn’t it, that I have become someone who talks about domestic appliances. Tupperware parties next?
* Not giving any prizes;just wondering how many recognise this