A CAT CALLED MERLOT

Thursday 15th July 2021

Kes was sitting outside her pod, enjoying the sunshine while hand-feeding the squirrels. I’d seen her at dusk the evening before, sitting with a fox just as if it was her pet dog and I realised she really had an affinity with wild animals, which I think is a very good sign in a human. While she was sitting there, one of the rough gardeners who are working at Number 2 went over and spoke to her and I watched as she shook her head. I couldn’t hear what she was saying but I can read human body language and her’s indicated she was on ‘high alert’. He offered her a cigarette which she refused before getting to her feet and walking off. A couple of times he called after her, with his arms open but she ignored him and the other men laughed as he rejoined them. I followed Kes and found her leaning against a wall at the end of The Avenue, looking fed up. She bent down to greet me and I realised there was something quite calming about her touch. Glancing back down the road, she said, “They’re bad news, Merlot. You keep well away from them.” I’d already made up my mind to avoid them and would tell Marjorie just as soon as she came home from her week away with Judith, staying in a cottage in a place called Wales. 

On Sunday night, the gardens were filled with the sound of people shouting in dismay at their TV’s, as England played Italy in the European football final. On Monday, I paused for a  groom in Chantel and Matt’s garden (Number 20) and could hear Matt Smith saying to girlfriend Chantel that they really needed to change their young son’s name from Marcus Rashford Smith to Jesse Lingard Smith, following the missed penalty. After the match Matt spent part of the night unconscious under a holly bush, where he’d fallen on his way home from the Legless Goat pub, having consumed his own body weight in beer (to ease the disappointment). Chantel said he should concentrate on his own performance as, to her disgust, she watched him picking leaves out of his hair and observed a snail making its way out of his denim jacket pocket, onto his shoulder. She said she’d happily keep the ‘Marcus’ and ‘Rashford’ as he was an excellent role model and remove ‘Smith’! One – Nil to Chantel, I think. 

Gary from Number 11 told Queenie that Andrew from Number 30 has advertised for a female to share his bunker in the event of a global disaster. Her duties would include (but not be limited to), cooking, cleaning and playing chess. She would need to be aged 30-35, possess first class degrees in medicine, electronics and agriculture, be confident with handling weapons and look like Beyonce. Gary told Queenie that Andrew (who is 54, has hygiene issues and resembles a pregnant toad), was confident the volume of applications would take weeks to sift through. Gary asked him if he’d missed off the requirement for ‘a cracking sense of humour’ but Andrew just frowned and said that wouldn’t be necessary as there would be nothing to laugh about in a nuclear winter. Queenie said if Andrew and the bunker were the only hope of survival, she’d happily run towards the mushroom cloud!