Liverpuddlians? Not sure about the spelling either.

Well done Ali, and I wouldn't expect a banana bender to be able to spell anyway ;) .

Beatles?

Well my knowledge came from a chap I used to chat with from Liverpool, so that just goes to show it's not what you know but who you know.

As to my spelling, well that's just a disaster these days. Since I stopped working and am no longer studying, on top of having a pretty huge dose of placenta brain, I find I'm having trouble getting in touch with all those little keys in my mind that tell me what letter goes where when I'm spelling.

It's actually distressing me somewhat as I once considered myself to be a pretty stellar speller. :(

Maybe you've been using too much of this:

Attachment 20541


No, I have no idea.


And I was expecting some kind of "Crow-Eater" comment.

Contrary to popular belief, I really am not a bitch. ;)

and as to your placenta in a tube...all I can say is "WTF"???

Diz is in High Spook Mode at the moment.

Firstly, he had a tough day anyway. I walked to the vet, which is a new experience for him. Then had stuff put in his eyes, a strange ginger man pressing things to his chest and back, an injection and then the ultimate indignity of a cold stick up the poop shoot.

Then of course the walk back and me squeezing more gunk into his eyes. He was really offended. Just wait til I have to give him a pill tomorrow!

Anyway, I must have left the door open at the bottom of the stairs at some point, and Peppi came up. Diz didn't notice him at first, so I stayed still and hoped he'd just creep out again. He didn't, he became braver and jumped up on the chest of drawers, at which point Diz certainly saw him and went into full Get Orf My Land mode. There was a bit of a scramble and one or other of them knocked over a full pint glass full of water (which Diz drinks out of). Great! Right onto my DVDs!

Still, tiny Diz chased enormous Peppi back downstairs and that was the end of it.

Unfortunately, a black and white cat has taken to jumping up on the windowsill (on the other side of the glass of course) in the last week. It chose to do this about an hour after the First Bedroom Invasion, so Diz felt much maligned. Instead of running away when Diz complained, the cheeky guttersnipe jumped down onto the extension roof, but stood his ground there and swore bloody murder at him.

Diz swore back, more and more aggressively and puffed himself up until he was nearly half the size of the trespasser, but it took me knocking on the window before he ran away.

Diz is now dividing his time between trying to creep under the laptop on my knees (it gives off heat), looking out of the window - although I doubt he can see anything but his reflection, and checking the stairs for intruders.

Thank goodness we move Saturday, although goodness knows that will bring its own problems. Despite being brought up with a houseful of cats, and co-existing so happily with Dylan, I think Diz has small cat syndrome and will never share happily again. Still - I have to try. Who knows, maybe Mia will remind him of his Mum or something and he'll be curled up grooming her by Christmas. Ahem.

I've bought some Feliway.

liverpudlians

and folks from Manchester........? :lol:

I believe "Manc tart" is the expression used hereabouts. :p

I'm just glad I'm not from Arsenal!

tart is a bit too posh, tbh...

peeps from arsenal are Gunners.

love peeps

http://jschumacher.typepad.com/joe/peeps_03.jpg

In Scotland, Edinburgh specifically, they ate called Weedgies. If that sounds like a term of endearment, consider that it's usually proceeded by soap dodging and followed by scum.
I love it when something I've read in the Cellar manifests itself in real life! Pleased to be of service.

Of course I know the proper term for people form Manchester, but I figure it would be cheating if I joined in.

Up before the rest of the house, so I'm hanging about for a bit rather than wake them. Today is moving day, and although I have plenty to to, I do have plenty of time to do it in yet. Dad's not leaving Aylesbury til at least 09.30 and he has to get here through Saturday traffic.

I'm mostly packed anyway.

Rather than enjoying a lie-in with me, Diz is scrambling round everything like he did last night. He thinks it's a new assault course made specially for him. No, actually he's disturbed by the packing, unsettled abotu what it means. He's making his special creakky noise which would be the human equivalent of a kid whining, "Mum! I don't like it!" when faced with something new.

Still, in 12 hours time (and probably more like 6) we'll be in our new home. Ever wish you could fast forward time?