And so it begins, well, kind of...

This blog was set up well over a year ago and then procrastination set in - this will be a recurring theme I suspect. So why bother with a blog at all since probably it will only get written occasionally? Well, I spend my life *having* to write, by choice admittedly - sort of - usually under duress, always in mind-boggling referenced precise detail and never paid. So, writing this will hopefully be cathartic, perhaps fun, maybe even funny - who knows. I suspect it will take on different forms depending on the day: random, silly, poetic and, every now and again, I hope, thought-provoking.

So, where to begin? Perhaps by stretching back to a time full of intense emotions, emotions which were expressed in flippancy and quiet thought - default positions in my world. 


Starting with the flippant, we have: le chat, Mme Hazel...

and a piece I wrote about her in 2007...

After EIGHT years of love, affection and vet's bills, my wonderfully fluffy, wild-eyed puddy cat has decided that the next-door neighbours are a more convenient option for her royal highness. How fickle is that!

Such was her regality, for a time I spoke to her in French (I kid you not, bad French admittedly) as English just didn't do her justice, thus she was treated with the highest honour. She was seemingly inseparable from me and even deigned to move house with me three times but, alas, such was the allure of the constantly open door of the neighbours in contrast to having to wait in the cold (? this is Cyprus for goodness sake and she is wearing a fur coat) for me to get home from work, that all memories of kindnesses shown to her were as a vain thing. Oh well, c'est la vie, mange tout, sur le pont d'avignion and all that.   Who would have thought that even cat-human relationships could get complex and full of intrigue and betrayal...will she/won't she come back...will she at least come to visit for old times sake; not blooming likely mate, it's too comfy on next door's sofa.

After hearing murmurings from the neighbours that they were planning to take Hazel with them when they move house, I decided to do the only 'noble' thing and 'give' her to them (did I ever own her, or did she own me?). At least that way I wouldn't be left with feelings of injustice or theft against them. To be fair though, I had in mind that I would be leaving Cyprus in the near future so was at least glad that she is in a cat-loving home, which is not easy to find in Cyprus. Indeed, Andreas actually cried when i told him that his Christmas present has two ears and a tail (he is 30).

So, I wish my lovely, fickle, fluffy one well; she was a great cuddle companion during some difficult years. May she have good food in abundance, plenty of strokes (she has a particular penchant for having her bottom stroked which caused my perturbed nan to pronouce that she is 'too sensual') and of course, the most comfortable seat in the house.

Salut Hazel mou! 

The update to this is that I saw her in December 2009 and she was living the life of a cat princess but showered me with love and affection and did not want to get off my knee when I visited her - aww, all is forgiven.
Update - part the second. I have just discovered she is a Maine Coon cat, no wonder she is/was so darn beautiful and intelligent.

And to finish, a quiet thought written around the same time and still holding true today in the redemptive sense: 

You live,

you breathe.

You live,

You bleed.

Not a drop is wasted.

Such is the economy of the Creator.