End of the year

"Who stole 2008?" asks one of my friends on her Facebook profile today and I feel the same way. The year has shot past and has left me only a couple of wrinkles to remember it by. This month I feel I'm just hanging on till we get Christmas over (I'm working) and Ms T and I can go off to Wales for a bit of a break.
The reason I've not been blogging is partly the work schedule, which seems to have been heavy recently, but also trips to Manchester to see my old man who is resolutely not a silver surfer.
It could be the shortness of the days but I also feel I have little to say, or even less than usual. The endless stream of bad economic headlines is getting to me; they say forty seven percent of us know someone who's lost their job in the downturn and one senses there's worse to come.
I don't know about you, but for me this Christmas is a question of getting out there, getting the presents in, downing the mulled wine and hoping - or praying - for the best.

The End of Woolworths

Wending home after a heavy night - it must have been at least 11pm - I saw the metal grilles had been left open at the door to Woolworths. The scene inside was pretty depressing (above).

Lots of speculation among us locals as to what this shop will become when the end finally arrives; Tesco and Sainsburys both said to be keen on what is, after all, a massive retail space on one of the busiest high streets in the country. Let's hope the staff get new jobs soon.

Winter Living

The other day Ms T announced that she quite liked the weather like it is at the moment and I found myself agreeing. Everybody moans, and sometimes they're right, but really the winter here in the UK really isn't that bad; there are many compensations. It's crisply cold and there's quite a good deal of sharp low-angled sunlight that's been making a run in the park a real pleasure.

I like the contrast between outside and inside too; the chill on your skin being replaced with a glow when you go indoors. And drinking is especially pleasant in winter with red wines coming into their own and decently brewed ales going down nicely. Ms T starts doing hearty food; last night it was meatballs, yum. I hope it gets a couple of degrees lower and we get some snow out in the country coinciding with a day off - I reckon a winter walk would be fantastic and get yours truly off the sofa properly...

Do You Sing To Your Cat?

I've recently noticed that I've begun singing to my cats, Dylan and Hendrix. They ambush me on the way to the shower first thing because they want to be fed, and now I realise I am singing to them in response.

It's more a sort of rap, but delivered like a white middle aged Jay Z.

It goes:

"Da Pussy

Da Pussy

Da Pussy-Cat"

(repeat to taste)

It elicits no visible response from the cats, but I seem to need to do it nonetheless. Does anyone else do this kind of thing? What are your cat song lyrics?