I've had enough

I feel restless, fed up - on the verge of a big change.....

Fellow bloggers may have noticed that I have stopped following your blog.....please don't be offended, I was just getting overwhelmed with blog updates, but I still have them on my internet favourites, and will be dropping by from time to time....

One blog I have followed for a long time is Let Her Bake Cake, by Hilary, a canadian girl transplanted to London. Now I love this blog - it is my mostest favouritest blog of all. I found it one day by link from Shimelle (well known to you scrapper gals) and I love the tone she sets, and I love her love of baking. Do drop by, because she seems like a nice chick (she nearly always comments on the comments you leave) and quite often she has a damn fine recipe featured there. To this end, I have been having a go at the Ottolenghi brownie recipe she featured fairly recently, and this is the brownie stack I made for Dad's 65th birthday:

They are, very good brownies. Although the general concensus of opinion is that half of one at a time is enough. There are four 100g bars of choc in the recipe (makes 9 biggies). I chop up one bar as an 'addition' and boy, it's rich.

On Thursday Oliver and I trollied off to Plymouth to see the Horrible Histories show, Awful Egyptians. It was really very, very good. We both love HH - it is just the bees knees, the mutts nuts, the top banana of kids entertainment masquerading as education. Here we are with our boggle goggles on. The second half of the show used a 3D screen, and it was brilliant. I screamed like a girl, along with the other hundreds of real (under age 12) girls in attendance.



Mark, Oliver and I went to the cinema this morning and saw Voyage Of The Dawn Treader. It was great, although my eyes leaked tears (really - not crying, just welling up and spilling out) throughout the last 10 minutes when the children were leaving Narnia, and Reepicheep (sp?) was heading off to Aslan's world. I fear I am becoming (more) mentally unhinged. Have had a headache since.

Gotta sign off - nearly time to dish up our Saturday night roastie - I thought we were having pork, but when the meat was defrosted and ready to go in the oven, it looked suspiciously like lamb. I hope it is lamb, because I have chucked in a load of rosemary with it.

it's a new day, it's a new dawn, and I'm feeling

extraordinarily tired, actually.

Went to Haytor on Saturday as the sun was shining. Again I found myself cursing that the English weather had conned us in to thinking it would be a lovely little trip out. It was bloody freezing up there, although very pretty.

Oliver (well, Mark paid for obviously) bought me these flowers at Trago:

Mark and I had a heated couple of sentences, not even a squabble, really, over a new spelling initiative he started with Oliver last week. Think in truth, I spoke out of turn and thoughtlessly, and he massively over-reacted. Hence forth, no spellings have been done, and we both feel shitty. Sigh. Why is life so tricky. No answers on a postcard please, it's a rhetorical.

We have finally worked our way through volume one of the Story of the World history book, which has been fantastic, and kindled an interest in history for Oliver, and fuelled my passion for the past. Will be trying to get hold of volume two soon. Another piece of Egyptian history was added to the timeline last week, and this week we are off to Plymouth to see the Horrible Histories on tour show: Awful Egyptians. Both looking forward to that.

Well, better get going. Really I am just delaying the inevitable washing up, wrapping up of ebay parcels, preparing a veg casserole, avoiding strangling the dog and then getting bullied by the Biggest Loser Kinect game. etc etc etc. Now, do I insist on getting cracking on some home-ed worky stuff, or do I leave Oliver whilst he is quiet and playing an energetic Kinect game of football? Find this the constant dilemma of home-edding.

To do, or not to do, that is the question. No, no answers needed for this either.

so THAT'S where all the toilet roll goes

Oliver and Kinect boxing. Sigh. All very comendable in the initiative deparment until one needs a big poo and there's no loo roll around because he is being Rocky Balboa in the living room.

My entry for the fire colours journal:

This is the last one in the circle of ten, tomorrow I am due to receive my journal back, so will show that off later in the week.

today's table

looks like this:

Disclaimer: the hair straighteners and wine glass are nothing to do with home education in any way, shape or form.

In fact the meagre amount of lovely cold white wine I just quaffed was to compensate me for the sweaty and shaky half hour I've just spent at the Doctors having a mole surgically removed. Oliver cried (real tears) at lunchtime when he realised he had to accompany me to this 'procedure' and then once in the Docs surgery promptly went from sitting in the corner with his ipod and headphones on and eyes shut to pulling up a chair to the end of the bed and telling me gleefully that there was 'blood dripping from the injection'. What a ghoul.

On the table today we have maths (Saxon 54) and Sudoku. The maths is going extremely well, and it is something I enjoy with him, because he gets it and likes it. The sudoku is a new thing, prompted today by an email from the lovely Louise re Activity Village. He gets it and is enjoying it. It works on logic, and needless to say, me and logic are not best mates. In fact we are not even on nodding terms. Glad to see that the boy does not take after me in many aspects of life....

Also in the pic is Oliver's new notebook for spanish sessions at the hut - I didn't even realise that everybody else took a notebook - so my poor little lad has been drawing on loose bits of paper like a pauper! tsk tsk. So today we went and bought a lovely new pad and some pens - it was great, reminded me of the first day of term at school with lots of delicious new stationery.

And finally....

This is Ladram bay on Sunday. Lovely, one might think. But - no. In this pic you should just be able to make out my dog, buggering off up the beach back towards the car. Mark (unseen in the pic) is strolling off in the opposite direction, patently ignoring the impending screaming at the dog to return. Also note the evil glowers coming from the hiking fraternity on the far right. (no dogs on the beach apparently, which we decided to ignore....) Clearly Harvey is a better reader than us because he left the beach of his own accord pretty sharpish like .....

the mouth of babes and all that

Feel I really must teach Oliver some public toilet etiquette. Although you might think 'what is she blithering on about - what public toilet etiquette?', believe me, there are things one should just not say out loud in the confines of one's cubicle. Personally I think that hearing Oliver loudly announce mid-piss 'phew, that's better, my balls were really hurting', is one of those cover your ears and sing la la la I'm not listening moments. I was busy assessing my escape route via the small window behind the toilet.

Art-wise, have completed the next pages of the Colour My World Art Journal CJ, these pages are the colours of autumn, and inspired by the legend of Icarus. Apparently 'all limits are self-imposed' is a quote of his. Hmmm. Think his limit was kind of imposed by the sun, but, hey-ho, who am I to question the might of the Greek Myth.

Have also done some scrapping, but as this may pop up on the Papermaze blog sometime, will hold off blogging it here.

During my weekly sojourn to Tesco last week, Oliver asked if he could 'go to the Worlds'. Now by this he means the annual World Pokemon Trading Card Tournament - trust me, this Tournament is a big deal in game-world. I prevaricated, as you do, amongst the milk and yoghurt section, saying yes, sure, when he was older, blah blah, and he then asked if he could just go to watch. Absent mindedly I asked where they were being held, and he replied 'Hawaaii', with the same lack of guile he would announce that they were being held in the next town. I threw back my head and laughed loudly, and mirthlessly. Two aisles later, I was still trying to find the words to explain why this was just not going to happen. Bless him to bits, gotta love a boy for trying. I love my son. He got lots of kisses and smiles for that one.

kitchenalia dahling

Watching the Delicious Miss Dahl on TV has rekindled my love of mismatched kitchen ware. I already have these,

and this is what the doggy drinks from:

And at the charity shop last weekend, I got these babies for 10p each -

thrillsville huh?

Yesterday I dragged Mum and Oliver off to the local recycling shop-ette and picked up these

and these rather weird mugs, which I took a shine to:

£4 the lot. I love the plates. They are like plates my Gran used to have and they have personality. Mark is 'Alarmed of Exeter' at the sudden influx of strange stuff, and wants to know what's wrong with our old plates. I told him they were boring (true) and chipped (not so true). And they are in the bin. He pointed out that they were perfectly adequate for the kak I dish up. Although not quite the words he used, the implication was definitely there. Pig. Anyway, I made goat's cheese and pesto cannelloni from scratch last night and it was lush. So there.

Think I shall start up my own TV programme based on the 'can't cook won't cook' premise. I shall call it 'can cook, shan't cook if you carry on with that attitude'.

a tale of fifteen tops

I wanted a new top - something casual, something 'cool' as in hey man, a top that said 'she's a cool dudette who looks ten years younger than her 42 years'. I tried on fifteen different tops - short sleeves, long sleeves, shirts and vests and all of the buggers just screamed 'who ate all the pies.' NOT quite what I had in mind. On the last trip out of the fitting room, the lady asked if they were any good, to which I informed her no, and that I was off home to cancel my night out on Saturday.

Sulk.

On a more positive note, I have completed my next art journal layout:

Found this one a bit easier than the first one, but still not exactly what I imagined. A bit like the fifteen tops debacle....

And the kittys:

The house is one giant hairball.

a sudden onset of middle age

Having been nagged from several quarters lately about my lack of blogging, thought I'd update. Most often, the reason I don't blog is because I've got so much to rant about, I just don't have he time to get it all down! Also, don't really like picture-less blogging. (Sorry Nessa if that hyphen is in the wrong place)

Okaaaaay - firstly, let me draw your attenion to the 'Save me' link on the left. This is to do with the current ban on hunting in this country, and the fact it may soon be under scrutiny due to political changes. The fear is that the law may be repealed. Anyhoo, check it out, think this is important.

The next rant comes from today's guest publication: 'The Manual Of Getting Fucking Old Suddenly', which I seemed to have opened without realising.

I decided (clearly without giving this due consideration to the lengthy consequences) to take Oliver swimming. What I didn't bargain on was the sudden need to visit M&S for a new swimming cossie and the hour in the bathroom spent hacking back the undergrowth with razors, scissors and depilatory creams. Phew. It's all a bit exhausting to tell you the truth. And another thing: I bought a swimming costume. From Marks & Spencer. With tummy control. Middle aged, that's me. (hyphen needed??) The days of purchasing a bikini from New Look with detachable straps are long gone then...... AND another thing - the other day I needed a new moisturiser. Post purchase, I wound up standing in the bathroom staring in disbelief at a bottle of oil of Olay with spf15 and smelling like my Mum. Not that there's anything wrong with that per se, I just didn't imagine turning into her for at least another ten years.

This is the costume I plumped for:

Looks kind of sexy on her huh? Now imagine a polar opposite and you're on the right lines of how I actually look in this....

After huffing, puffing and sweating in the changing rooms to try on 3 of the buggers, I was rewarded by a concise and matter-of-factly stated observation from Oliver: 'Mum, I think you look better with your clothes on.' After delivering this killer blow, he then stuck his thumb back in his gob and settled back to relax for 5 minutes leaving me to contemplate my cellulite.

And so to craft:

Last weekend was the UKS cyber-crop. A monopoly theme this time. I took part in the Mystery Kit and pre-cop challenge, and did 2 other challenges at the Exeter crop:




And this morning I seem to have a flea bite on my arse. Little feckers.

March-ing onwards

March-ing, MARCH-ing - the month of March, see what I did there? Play on words - cool, huh.


Have been busy all week making my Mother's Day gift and watching season 5 of House. Not necessarily in that order. Think this series of House is the best I have seen, but that could have something to do with the fact that this is the first series that I have watched completely sober. Not drinking alcohol has been far, far easier than anticipated, and now 2 weeks have passed, I am both delighted and relieved to report that clearly, drinking alcohol is, for me, a habit and not an addiction. I will not have any wine until April, and now know that I am in control of what I drink. Feel like this is the year I am conquering my demons, and it is feeling goooooood.

Got these babies in the post Saturday morning:

Got the thumbs up from brother Rich, who, despite being a total twat about a lot of things, is pretty trendy. Also got the wowsers at work from the girls who are all younger than me and therefore clearly got more of a finger on the pulse than I.

Glad to report that Roger the pigeon has improved tremendously and now looks like a real pigeon instead of a sorry lump of stubby feathers. He can feed and water himself now, so that is one less crappy job for me, but I still have to do pigeon poop patrol after the morning wing stretch and walk around, and my living room carpet now boasts an interesting pattern of clean light beige spots surrounded by the rest of the normal mid-beige.

Managed to get a perfect box to house my MD gift:

I only had to cover the 'L'Occitane' writing on the sides, et - voila. I made 10 blank greetings cards for her to give to other people and some first class stamps. I know it seems a bit of a weird pressie, but thought she would like to have cards and stamps available on demand....

Hope I don't get one of the buggers back for my birthday.

Here are the cards we gave to our Mothers:

And that concludes this weeks creativity slot.

My maths book has arrived, and I am disturbed to note that I already have a few sums I cannot solve even with the answers. Sometimes I just look at it, and I just don't get it. I could ask Mark, but then he is pissed with me and has been for an entire week now, so he is not Mr Approachable at the moment. What have I done to upset him this time? Hmmmm, who knows. Answers on a postcard please. Think it is one of those straw which broke the camel's back jobs, so this could relate to several years of fairly innocuous crimes and I may have snarled at him just once too often last week. C'est la vie. Will even out soon and then I can start a whole new batch of heinous crimes which I will no doubt pay for in 2018 or thereabouts.

Finally, I thank my lucky stars that I did a spellcheck before posting this, as I had written 'a lot' as 'alot' again, and this would have sparked a barrage of abuse and a long lecture on grammar from my old school buddy, the formidable Miss V......

getting to somewhere and other stories

Had a fab time at the Exeter crop last Saturday. Likely I won't be able to make it again until April now. :(

I have done a couple of layouts lately. Love the colours of this, as it happens, and am especially pleased to finally get to use one of the Karen Foster shirt labels I have had in their pristine packed since I started scrapping 3 years ago!

I completed this layout for a challenge on the Indigo Mill website:

The photo is of me, about 4 years old (and the original photo is in colour, might I add) standing on the bank of the river Exe. I had my whole life ahead of me.....

The challenge was to create a layout using your favourite poem/song lyric, but I have taken that as OK to use a piece from a book as well... The big 'J' journalling card hidden in the layout tells this story:

'This passage is from Alice In Wonderland. I have loved it for years. Twenty years ago I bought a poster in a kind of 'vintage style' with Alice and the Cheshire Cat having this very conversation. I thought it very poignant and loved the idea that you would get somewhere if only you kept going. That poster is still safely stored in it's cardboard tube in immaculate condition in the loft, and been carted around from relationship to relationship, house to house and now it is the right time to get it framed and get it up on the wall. I have walked for long enough to get to my somewhere.'

'Cheshire Puss, would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?'

'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,' said the Cat.

'I don't much care where-' said Alice.

'Then it doesn't matter which way you go,' said the Cat.

'-so long as I get somewhere,' Alice added as an explanation.

'Oh, you're sure to do that,' said the Cat.

'If only you walk long enough.'

I feel all a-flush with my 'achievements' this week - I decided to give up drinking wine for a month. Now, I know that probably doesn't seem like a big deal for most people, but I am a heavy consumer of white wine. We are talking 4-6 bottles a week here. It's got out of control, I think, and while I don't want to/intend to give up wine completely, I do not want to be consuming it as I have been, so I am reigning it in now. I have felt a bit fed up with myself because of the alcohol for a while to be truthful, and felt a bit of a 'prisoner' to it. Think it is a habit, rather than an addiction - I don't get the shakes/cravings but I am sure my moods have been affected one way and another. This is the first time I have ever wanted to stop, and the first time I have stated my intention to do so.

I began on Monday, and actually, I feel 'free'. How bloody stupid I am to have got myself so 'wrapped up' in my wine drinking that it feels strange to not have wine by my side of an evening. The evenings seem longer, and I can get lots more done.

I have also decided that I want to learn something. This is partly because I genuinely enjoy 'learning' things, partly because I now find myself with a couple of hours to kill each week whilst at one of Oliver's activities and partly because I think it will be good for Oliver to see me tackling something new/educational. To this end, I have chosen maths. I hated maths at school. I truly believe I don't have a 'maths brain' (left and right sided brain people and all that shit), which is why I struggled to grasp many mathematical concepts but I also believe that I wasn't helped by being badly taught at high school and the fact that my closest friends were mathematically adept girls and surged ahead of me. (you know who you are ha ha...)

Anyhoo, I have talked to the Great Kimbo, knower of all things, and I have ordered a maths text book from which my niece managed to pass her IGCSE at age 14. If it's good enough for her....

I then intend to take an IGCSE in maths next year. I feel very buoyed up with the whole scheme.

Hells teeth, haven't ever blogged this much at once... will be updating soon with my alcohol-free stories (bet that will be fascinating), pics of Roger the recovering pigeon and the all-new all-shiny bedroom for Oliver. In the meantime, here is Poppy the naughty kitten, too big for her box. Literally.

no scrapping to be seen

After many weeks of apportioning blame and flinging accusations of idleness at each other, we have finally gotten around to decorating Oliver's room.

The red is the current colour, we have had to paint the walls with 2 coats of fungicide, scrape and sand the rough bits and then do 2 coats of PVA. Now it can be painted. I really do feel as if I know this room like the back of my hand.

I have another pigeon refugee - this is Chloe, Rogers sibling. Chloe can actually feed and water herself, but their mother hasn't returned from her training flight from Exmouth, so Chloe needs caring for until she is a bit bigger. She spends her day coiled like a spring in her box, waiting for me to put my hand in so she can peck me and give me a severe flapping. Nice. Mark thinks Roger has some pigeon disease (ends in -osis) which affects his nerves and could go on for many weeks. We nearly got Tom (pigeon buddy) around yesterday to wring his neck, but I had the final say on the death sentence and I wimped out. He is definately not on top of things - he falls over alot and looks pretty pathetic but it is the patheticness which makes him so loveable. If I thought he was in pain, I would get him done over straightaway, so hold your barrage of abuse you animal lovers out there...

And finally.... Oliver has just come in with this bunny in his 3D glasses, speaking like Michael Caine and saying 'well, the encyclopedia book was invented in 1977...' which made me fall about laughing. What goes through their little minds.....

Roger and ramblings

Meet Roger:


Mark brought this scrawny little babe in from the Pigeon loft Tuesday morning with a torn underwing. He made me feel very motherly, so I have hand-fed and watered him, and called him Roger. He repays my kindness by chirping endlessly through all the good bits on telly and shitting on my carpet.

My sis-in law came around yesterday for a cup of tea and a go at me for not blogging more often. In fact, I do believe that if I had blogged lately, she wouldn't have bothered to pay me a visit at all ha ha. Here's the thing: I love the whole concept of blogging, and I love a bit of blog-hopping as much as the next cyber-gal, but it does kind of kill the art of spontaneous conversation as you end up repeating yourself and not even managing to be as interesting as your own cyber-self. . . .

My friend informs me that there are plans afoot to add a lift to Haytor to enable access to disabled people. (!!!!!!!!!!!!!) She is convinced this is true, and is (pretty justifiably I think) outraged at this. Whilst I fully appreciate the need to make 'life' as reasonably accessible as possible to the disabled population, does this type of thing qualify as 'reasonable' access? Methinks not - since Haytor is a geographical monument which has been there for millions(?) of years and therefore cannot be likened to adding a slope to the local greengrocers for disabled entry!!

I think this country is heading towards mindless positive discrimination. Worse, in my mind than your common or garden discrimination, since there is a big helping of hypocrisy in there too.

During her ranting and raving, my friend, who shall remain nameless to protect anonymity, said - and I quote - 'why don't disabled people just realise that life has handed them the shitty end of the stick and just get on with it.' Whilst I saw where that fitted in to her argument, I couldn't help staring at her in open-mouthed astonishment that she'd said it out loud. So callous.

Well, that will do for now. Better try and pull a decent meal out of the ether for Mark tonight, since last night I handed him a tin of beans and a bag of frozen chips before buggering off to work all night. Tsk tsk. I fear I am failing in my wifely duties.

Finding it tough

...to keep on top of this Christmas malarkey. I really want to do my journal, but journalling something every day is tough, particularly when I don't have photos available for a few days, and no Oliver-free time, adore and love him though I do. Never even mind all the normal mind-numbing domestic drudgery, my paid job and holding together a happy home and family during this time of joy and seasonal happiness lol.

Week 50 (yes, I have completed 50 layouts this year - mostly on time too!) Scrap a recipe:

I have scrapped my Christmas cake recipe which I have made, with some success I do believe, for the last four years or so. I make one for us, and one for Mum, and a whole bottle of brandy (the 750ml size heh heh) between the two. Yummy yummy in my tummy. I hate brandy to drink, but surrounded by lovely cakeiness, 'tis rather festively warming....

Here are (yes, yes I know - out of sync, order, whatever) pages 5, 6, 9, 10 & 13 of my journal:

You will observe that Ms Allsopp gets the 10th of December all to herself, which may seem a bit weird, but I think this 3-day TV programme is worthy of some note, as she has provided me with much entertainment by way of lively debate in many different quarters since it's airing - God love her.

Me & Vernon Kay

I had one of those 'just before you wake up in the morning' dreams the other day - you know, one of those very vivid and clear sort of dreams where you feel quite shaken by it for a few hours, as it was soooooo real. Anyhoo, this dream was about Vernon Kay trying to entice me into a torrid affair with him as he wanted me to run off and be with him. I don't mind telling you that in dreamworld, I was sorely tempted. I have spent the last few days saying to Mark 'well, Vernon wouldn't have said this', and 'Vernon would have let me do that', and Oliver refused to let me watch Family Fortunes. Ha ha.

Moving on from la la land, life is ticking along nicely. I made a disaster cake at the weekend. A simple Victoria sandwich which I have cooked many times before seemed to be a runny batter, not a gloopy cake mixture before it went into the oven, so, giving absolutely no thought to the balance of ingredients, I thought it would be a good idea to bung in more flour until it was 'cakey'. Well, it tastes like shite, and is, unsurprisingly twice the size of a normal cake. Looking at it, I have to wonder what the hell goes through my mind when I'm baking. Not the recipe obviously.

Feeling quite guilty at the thought of Mark having to endure this cake from hell for an entire week, I made a bakewell tart yesterday instead. I have never baked this before, and cannot be arsed to bake pastry blind, so it was definitely a suck-it-and-see sort of tart. The pastry was edible but the filling seemed terribly uncooked. We all, with trepidation, had a sliver for supper, and since we have all made it through the night Mark has happily gone off with some for lunch. Phew. Will use the Victoria sponge (and I use the term 'sponge' loosely here) as a door stop.

Whilst out doing the weekly food shop on Friday, Oliver said he wanted to gather together his own ingredients to make a meal by himself. Weeping inside at the potential damage to my carefully constructed shopping list, I said OK. He proudly came back ten minutes later with cress and a bag of lentils. Yum. He is so very sweet. We put back the lentils as I already have a half hundredweight at home, and decided on minestrone soup. Don't ask.

Just had the latest Cyber Crop over on UKS. I didn't really take part this time, but did do the 'pre-crop' challenge - 'Home is where the heart is':

Also have done this week's SLYMI - scrap a thank you. I have scrapped my thanks to my sister in law, Kim. Not a brilliant photo, sorry Kim, but it is the only one I have of you!

Journalling reads:

'Kim, you have such a strong and confident opinion on home education that the first time you wheeled out your soap box to preach to us about it, we were hooked.

Impressed and excited by your beliefs, we took the decision to keep Oliver out of school. For this alone, you have my deepest gratitude.

You are a constant source of support and inspiration to me, and your presence in our lives is a very welcome one.

It is wonderful to see Oliver developing into a bright, confident and gregarious child, a million miles from the shy toddler who would have been thrown to the wolves at the school gates. Thank you.'

not even

...a visit to the Dentist this morning can dim my enthusiasm for life right now.

I have (I believe) finally secured the hours I want at work and will no longer need to work on Saturday evenings hurrah! I am up to date with SLYMI, I have two layouts in the very last edition of Scrapbook Inspirations which is out this week, I have a few nights off from work now, I am keeping the weight off I lost in the summer and some, Mark and I have been getting on better than ever for some time now and Oliver and I are gently plodding through the Autumn days with good humour and bits of educational stuff on the go. This is, of course, not a comprehensive list of the highs in my life, but it is a quick resume of edited highlights.

I am to be referred on to some CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) sessions which will help me to 'unlearn' some of the my negative thoughts which have caused me unecessary angst over the course of my life. It is not counselling as I have known it in the past - this will help with altering the way I think, which will, in turn, alter the way I feel. Not rocket science, but thus far overlooked.

I have done a couple of layouts since my last post - week 38 SLYMI - scrap a lesson learnt. Here is Oliver during two half hour sessions on the dry ski slope at Warmwell recently:

and here is week 45 - scrap something you want to remember. I have scrapped a lovely pic of Oliver with his toddler curls. I showed it to him with some pride, as I like this one, and he reacted with such appalled horror and embarrassment I am left wondering why the hell I am bothering to document his life at all.

Poppy taught herself a new game during the wee hours of the morning. She sat her furry arse on my chest and purred in my face until I stroked her. If I then stopped stroking her, she licked my face until I resumed the stroking. Ahhh, lovely I hear you say. Actually, not so. The purring was at the level of a battery operated screwdriver at least, and the licking was what I would liken to being attacked with a sheet of sandpaper. I was afraid to look in the mirror this morning lest my face be covered with angry red lesions.