A Cat Called Merlot

Thursday 17th September 2020

Queenie is ploughing her way through eleven series of Shameless, on Netflix. She said she missed it the first time around, as they were shown during a period of her life when she was  pretending to be sophisticated. Since she got over herself, she’s loving every episode and laughing like an old hyena.

Dan from Fresh Produce is moving into Marcus’s house. The relationship has only been going on for a few months but it’s full steam ahead and the Abba and Dusty Springfield LP’s are being combined with Judy Garland and George Michael, to make what Marcus described, as one fabulous Camp Collection. To celebrate their commitment, they are going to Tyler’s Tattoo’s to get each other’s name engraved for posterity or until they need laser removal. Alfred from Number 16, who was watching the movement of belongings, said things had changed since his day, when two men would have been arrested for living together unless they had the same surname or, for that matter, were part of the clergy. He added they were lovely lads and wished them well, despite their questionable taste in music.

On Tuesday, just as Queenie was off to work, she managed to drop my box of cat biscuits all over the kitchen floor, sending them skittering off to the farthest corners of the room. To the sound of various expletives, she started collecting them from one end of the kitchen, whilst I helped by hoovering some up from the other. Cometh the hour, cometh the cat!

Fernanda from Number 29 has self-published a book of poetry and she has invited the people of The Avenue to a Covid-compliant, candle-lit recital, in their back garden. To add to the ambience of the evening and to try to sell a few paintings on the back of a cheap glass of fizz, Sheridan had made the hallway and kitchen into a gallery for his paintings. Queenie had a peek through the window and thought it looked like someone had gone potty in an abattoir. Sadly, only a few people attended. Excuses ranged from sudden deafness to faulty front door locks. Gary from Number 11, always direct, said he felt depressed enough, “Without being subjected to disturbed canvases and mad poetry. Rather than disturb their neighbours’ psyche, why didn’t the pair of them just go and get medicated?”

On Sunday, Queenie watched the David Attenborough documentary on Extinction. Throughout the evening she kept shaking her head and muttering at the state of the world and how humans were destroying the planet and that none of the superpowers are really listening. In the end I felt so fed up, I went out and sat on the garden wall until it had finished, pondering on a world without cats. At the end of the programme, she rang her friend Michelle and said, as the future of the world was in jeopardy she was taking a vow to reduce her carbon footprint by drinking less coffee and substituting it with (a lot) more British wine. On a roll, she also vowed to boycott Argentinian sourced beef and Pringles and replace them with Hobnobs (made from sustainable palm oil). That, she announced with a steely determination, would be her contribution to saving the planet! Michelle pointed out she’d probably not be contributing for long, on that diet.