Ginger and Whinger

Often I see one ginger cat sitting on the windowsill of one of the houses in our street. He/she is looking in at another cat curled up sleeping on the other side of the window. This morning, however, as I set off in the rain (no, the snow did not last) I saw both of them sitting outside the front door on a new striped doormat thoughtfully provided by the owner for the benefit of one street blippers. Next door, a British or Russian blue was trying to get in through his front door, which had a pair of workman's boots, an empty lunchbox, and a flowerpot in front of it.

Our houses were built in 1935/36 and are typical UK council houses of the period. They now have upstairs bathrooms and no longer sport a coal cellar, but they're pretty much like my grandmother's house in Scotland, where I stayed in the 1960s and 70s. Those ones were built for Forestry Commission workers and had a downstairs lav as well as an upstairs bathroom: very modern!

It's not a large estate, and has spectacular views over Rodborough Hill and common, as well as the open-fields area known as the Weyhouse behind our house. Plans were made to create a private estate within the play area at the heart of the estate a few years ago. Determined opposition and the crash of the world financial markets put an end to such folly.

I've written about the Highfield Road area before, in other tagged blips, so please do take a look. Meanwhile, the blip lethargy gets worse. I don't seem to be able to do more than post a picture every day, reply to comments, and make one or two. I am sorry. Perhaps once I get to 200 and the light returns, I'll do better.

I had some shocking news today. A former colleague of mine left her village pub early last night, as she wasn't feeling well. She went home, got into bed, where her partner later found her. She was dead. I can't actually believe it. She was 49, has a son of 14 and another aged 21. We do not know what happened to her. As far as I know she had no health problems, and was very much the mainstay of her extended family, who all live nearby. She'll be missed greatly, both in her village and by the people who knew her, either personally or professionally.