For The Love of Cats

 

After 17 years together, we had to say goodbye to our beloved Stephen Squirrel on Monday. Five months ago our hearts were broken when we lost Frank, now they're smashed into a million pieces. RIP beautiful boy.

Life goes on but, at the moment, it feels like we're simply going through the motions. We've done some nice things like planning for our next trip, going for an early morning swim and treating ourselves to breakfast in Spoons, Eggs Benedict for Jon and the vegetarian alternative, Mushrooms Benedict, for me. 

We both sought solace in a bit of shopping. This secondhand embroidered blouse (originally Zara) caught my eye, the cotton is so crisp I can hear it crinkle when I move and feels Spring-like even if the weather is anything but.

Jon's found three pairs of cropped cotton trousers (including Zara & David Beckham for H&M), a vintage Camel Trophy leather wallet and a 1970s tooled leather belt, I've snaffled a cropped TopShop military jacket, a Danish-made chambray midi skirt, a Yasmin Le Bon necklace (from her 2009 collection for Wallis) and a straw & raffia bag, handmade in Madagascar for a street childrens charity.

We've also found a few goodies for festivals and the eBay shop, including a 1980s Laura Ashley linen jacket, a 1970s Ladies Pride maxi, a Miss Selfridge duster, some Clarks sandals, a deconstructed & studded silk jacket from Brazil, a Fiorucci suede blazer, a Marks and Spencer leather jacket, a Lambretta Harrington and a Christian Lacroix wool mini skirt which stood out like a beacon from the high street synthetics occupying the rest of the rails.

I wasn't looking forward to getting up on Tuesday morning, the first time in 17 years I'd not been accompanied by Stephen but something really odd happened, I got downstairs and discovered a cat waiting for me on the doorstep. He came in, made polite conversation, had cuddles, belly rubs and cat treats, explored the kitchen, middle room and lounge, dozed on the doormat and left an hour later.

Mr Trousers is frequent sight on the avenue but he's always kept his distance until now. We think he's the boss of the cat colony in the old windmill, he's obviously used to people but his matted fur points to him not being owned.

Ollie is getting braver although never allows us near enough to touch him. He's currently sheltering from yet another torrential downpour underneath Gilbert and tucking into his fourth dinner of the day. 

See you soon. xxx