Post 275. AN ERRATIC OLD CAT.

WHO SLEEPS A LOT.
The cat Shadow

has become old, tired and erratic over the past few months. I try not to talk about it in front of him because he obviously doesn't want to hear it when he's awake. Nowadays he is only awake to go out for a leak, to beat the bounds, or to loudly demand a light snack.
So what do I know?
Well I think I know Shadow.
He came to us - of his own volition - in 2001 when he was, we were reliably informed, six or seven years old.
The nice people he came from lived along the terrace from us and he had been landed on them by their nephew or grandson or somesuch (who had gone back to the mainland for good).
They already had a resident cat of their own who objected to the newcomer in no uncertain fashion.
We had not long moved from Ventnor where the last of our clowder had died and was buried. We had no intention of becoming attached to another feline. Not on that main road in Newport, anyway.
I was unequivocal about it: "The only way we'll have a cat here will be if it it walks in and takes us over."
So that was what he did.
He sized us up from the roof of the garage, presumably heard what I said, cogitated, walked down the back pathway when he thought the time was right, crossed the courtyard, came into the kitchen and inveigled himself into our lives.
We found out who his guardians were (Christine and Len) and they came along the terrace to see him.
When they arrived he was dozing on the back of the settee (yeah, even then).
They shook their heads and smiled.
"He belongs here, doesn't he," Chris said. "I think his mind is made up."
They, bless them, were cat people. So are we.
His future with us and ours with him was settled there and then.
When, after some fourteen years, we decided on the move from Newport, I spoke to Chris about him.
"Will you take him with you?" she asked.
"We will if you don't mind," I said.
"I think he'd be unhappy without you," she said. "You're his family."
So here he is. Suffering slightly from dementia, I fear, but otherwise contented.
That nice lady was right.
We are his family, come what may.
READING.
I finished Career of Evil, which turned out to be a unique whodunit packed with the sort of tracking down and questioning of concerned parties that many of my retired police acquaintances would ruefully recognise.
The degree of violence towards women was disturbing - though no doubt realistic - and the 'villain' was an obvious candidate for Broadmoor (or the 'intelligence service' of any leading nation).
As for Strike and Robin's iffy business relationship, I defy those who read it not to enjoy the last few lines of this story.   
TELEVISION.
I am inclined to delete series we have seen and am often prompted to do so by my 'you can get rid of that now' Leader.
Which is all well and fine until it comes to the above heading when my addled old brain says: Hang on...what was that series I taped, we saw, and I've scrapped? And: what was that programme I recorded (thought was rather good, actually) and got rid of as soon as I was reminded we'd seen it? 
I should learn, but I'm afraid I never will.
Suffice to say we saw the last episode of Robert (J.K.) Galbraith's Strike: The Cuckoo's Calling.

Tom Burke (pictured) is good as Strike and the first three part series was well cast and interesting. It didn't stray far from the book, either.
I have seen part 1 of the second series, The Silkworm, and that, too, mirrors the book rather well.
Apparently J.K. Rowling keeps a personal eye on the process.
Good for her.
Despite my negative response to the initial transfer of The Great British Bake Off from the BBC to Channel 4, Mo and I have been captivated by the new series.
Sandi Toksvig and Noel Fielding have proven to be amiable replacements for 'irreplaceable' Mel and Sue, as has Prue Leith in replacing 'the one and only' Mary Berry.
Ah. We'll see.
What we haven't seen yet is the new Strictly.
We can wait.
All that running delightedly to meet the partner who has allegedly been picked out of a hat for you can be extremely tedious for the viewer. That has always been my partner's view and I tend to agree with her.
She never ever came running to meet me.
She'd just get into the car and we'd go for a drink.
What? Oh, neither of us can dance.
Neither of us can run now, either.
And (laboured intro into next subject) neither of us has ever set foot on a canal barge.
Have you seen any of journalist John Sergeant's Barging Round Britain canal adventures?
If you have seen and liked Tim and Pru West barging about on canals you will probably like this.
He hasn't run into them yet - not as far as I know - but with his steering skills and lovely Pru's memory, who knows?
Anyway he comes across, as always, like the nice old guy you'd enjoy meeting by chance for a quiet chat.

Say no more.