A CAT CALLED MERLOT

Thursday 8th October 2020

Queenie’s brother and his wife came to visit for the first time in a year, this week. They brought their youngest grandchild, Asher with them. He mostly crawls on all fours like a cat but without the grace and everything had to be cleared away out of his reach. Talk about high-maintenance! I’m not a fan of “toddlers” as they don’t understand the etiquette of interacting with pets. I eyed him suspiciously from the back of the sofa as he pointed at me, shouting “Tat!” All I can say is, Queenie did warn them to keep the child away from me but they got distracted and pulling himself up by the arm of the chair, he grabbed my tail and got a swift cuff, in response. I have to say I’ve never seen a mouth open so wide. Following a moment of shocked silence, he let out this horrendous noise which brought attention straight back to him and a great deal of over-reaction to what amounted to a very small wound. Queenie shouted over the din, that given the dysfunctional family genes Asher would doubtless have inherited, a small facial scar would pale into insignificance compared to the personality disorders he’d be bound to develop. In any event, he had to learn to respect animals! With a smile, she shoved a treat in his vast expanse of mouth and peace was soon restored. Ears ringing, I decided to go down to Alfred’s (Number 16) until they’d all left. 

This week, due to COVID, Jeff reluctantly had to cancel this year’s pantomime. For the past eight years, the amateur dramatic group, The Avenue Residents’ Theatre Society  (TARTS) have rehearsed in the local community hall at the end of the street. Last year, they staged Puss in Boots. I was happy to take the lead role but for some reason, I wasn’t asked and it went to Mrs Waters. For the duration of rehearsals, Jeff, as TARTS ‘Resident Director’, took to wearing a colourful cashmere scarf slung casually around his shoulders and dark-rimmed spectacles and minced around the stage throwing artistic fits of pique. The main bone of contention was the cast was uncontrollable. Gary the builder, played the Ogre and was perpetually late for rehearsals and Jodie, who was given the role of the princess couldn’t be bothered to turn up half the time. By the week of the actual play, Jeff had aged ten years and had to spend afternoons in a darkened room, with a migraine and a cold compress on his forehead. According to the local paper, the reporter said the performance was like watching, “Deranged chimpanzees on acid!” This was only partly due to an unplanned change to the storyline, where the Ogre went completely off piste and married the Princess. Puss (drunk) subsequently fell off the stage in her oversize boots, onto the pianist and had to be taken to hospital with a badly sprained paw! The pianist broke her nose on impact with the piano keys, resulting in what looked like a keyboard massacre. The reporter went onto say, the performance was unlike anything he’d ever experienced, and it was more “Left of Field than West End.” This year, Jeff announced, the group would be performing a socially distanced carol concert in the grounds of the local Care Home. All residents of The Avenue have been encouraged to join the pop-up choir, with rehearsals scheduled on Zoom. Roll on Christmas…