It has been a tad quiet here the past few days, perhaps due to ghosties and wierdies roaming either side of Halloween. But down in Anna's pub, not far from the Tavern, in the more densely populated part of the village the Old Monk, Gildas has been telling tales.
How does one join the dots between stray cats, beautiful girls, a train, a propensity to kill, and wisdom?
I am taken by fine tales told by masters of the word and Gildas has excelled himself.
|This chap has absolutely nothing to do with it.|
So I am advising all to drop by the Raccoon Arms on the way home and see what he has to say. This may not be wise, I know, as Anna serves a good pint too, but as Gildas says....
but the Good Lord didn’t put me here to be all wise, he put me here to do my best, and that is what I am doing.You can read a superb account of almost nothing at all but of such great humanity at...
Meanwhile here are some snippets overheard.
He was entirely traumatized by something, and whether he had ever had a home at all or whether he had lost his home and been forced to live wild was a matter of conjecture and I suppose I will never know the answer.
|Not Gildas' cat. This is a model. She is under 18.|
I noticed a rather pretty girl pass my seat doubtless heading for the buffet bar. Let me just say that at this point I realised that going to the buffet seemed a good idea and I decided that I'd go too. Just a coincidence, mind. So, entirely by chance, I soon found myself behind this young lady of medium height in the queue at the buffet bar.
|This is a different buffet car. On a train from Van in Turkey. |
I may tell you a story about that one day, but not now.
And thereupon I found myself a tad hoist by my own purely humanitarian petard, because she turned to look up at me (I being quite tall, and she of medium height) and shot me in the head.....
|And this ain't Gildas, either.|
OK, no, not really, I just said that for dramatic effect. But what happened had much the same effect as I found myself looking into the cool, slightly amused and very mischievous gaze of the most beautiful ocean blue eyes I have ever encountered. She wasn’t a “rather pretty girl”; she was a truly beautiful young woman. If you would like a comparison, I can only say: think Vivien Leigh, and you get the general idea. And, it transpired, her name was Lucy.
|If anyone knows who this is, please send her to the Tavern.|
It was very young cat, still a kitten really, and my immediate impression was that it was too young to be out at night. It was also obviously a “she”. She was obviously incredibly loving and trusting as she generally pestered me and I picked her up at once. She was tiny, jet black and very, very beautiful. She immediately purred and seemed quite content to be in my arms. I was instantly smitten. I knew straight away that I would have a role in looking after her, and that I would call her Lucy.
|All together now.... Aaaahhh.|
She is highly playful, and a killer. What she does to the feathers on the end of the bendy stick thing is quite terrifying,...
Go and read, be entranced. Leave a comment. Then come back and tell me what you said.
It is Sunday and I have a Grail Crypt to mop and Mass to attend.
Pax Dei Vobiscum, and y'all be right back, y'hear.