Special Offer

Look what I found outside BHV on my way to buy catfood yesterday, dear reader. And guess what? They were on special offer!! Naturally, I bought two. (Click on the pic for a close-up).

You know you're gay when...

...you give your cat its medication by wrapping the pills in prosciutto di San Daniele D.O.P. Poor thing is very poorly, with a nasty chest infection. I took her to the vet's yesterday, she had an x-ray that showed her lungs were all inflamed, so now we have enough pills to open a pharmacy and I have to ring him with daily updates. Send "get well soon" vibes her way, please!!

Sporting Life

December is almost upon us, dear reader. The nights are drawing in, the heating's on 'roasting' - why, it's even almost time to decorate the Christmas tree. And, after a mince pie or two, there's nothing Kitty and I like better to while away a long winter evening at Rhino75 Towers than a game of cat rugby (complete with made-to-measure ball). In this action shot, she's preparing to go for a conversion after scoring a try underneath the bookcase. Well, she's thinking about it anyway. We're still working on the scrum, though. Oh, ALRIGHT THEN, this ball is just one of the - completely useless - rugby freebies I stole received at a **glamorous beer-themed showbiz** dinner for the 2007 Rugby World Cup here on the Champs Elysées last night. Like every self-respecting "sports" fan, I was, of course, hoping for a Dieux du Stade 2007 calendar (look, the elastic's gone in that poor man's shorts - it happens to the best of us) but no such luck. Instead, there was a photo op with French team coach Bernard Laporte, a scarf, an ugly t-shirt and a book of old and less interesting (to my mind) rugby pics. But dinner was fab, particularly the big shank of lamb and the beer-flavoured ice creams (sounds ewww but they were actually quite subtle - the fig 'n' beer one was particularly nice, Ben & Jerry please note). In fact, this is shaping up to be a bit of a "dining out" week, as Monday evening found me sharing a table with fellow Parisian blogger Matoo. He didn't give me a scarf or an ugly t-shirt but he was totally charming, which is much better, isn't it? Smart guy, read him (but after me, he doesn't need the traffic as badly :))

Self-Portrait With Pug Dog

What a fantastic title for a pic, dontcha think? Why, I like it so much that I'm recreating this tableau as I write (my italics), with the lovely Miss Kitty standing in - grudgingly - as a fatter, more whiskery version of a pug dog. It is of course, dear reader, none other than William Hogarth (1697-1764) - you have to do that dates thing with important historical figures, I think. Who just happens to be the subject of a rather fine exhibition at the Louvre. Which I urge you to go and see. The exhilarating thing about Hogarth's work is the sheer heartiness and good cheer of it all. He's like a favourite uncle who always has a funny story to tell. Not all of the paintings are that great but they're BRIMMING OVER with life. And when you look at some of the series of engravings - I'm thinking particularly of "Industry and Idleness" and "Beer Street and Gin Lane" - there's so much humour in there, so much detail in the images. It's been a long time since I've seen people smile so much at an exhibition. Personally, I loved the portraits. The formal portrait is a medium that's always fascinated me and - and don't worry, I do know this is pretentious but it's also true - I would LOVE to sit for an artist myself someday. Weird, isn't it? I'm just really interested in the idea of someone else "interpreting" me, because it's one of those things that always differs slightly from person to person. Derr. Readers, to your brushes!! (and BTW I see myself as more of an oils man, rather than acrylics - DON'T EVEN THINK about watercolours). Anyway, Hogarth's portraits are super-accessible - none of that "the golden skull that you can barely see on top of the map on the table at the back signifies his deep-seated fear of travel and death" rubbish. You feel you know these - very English-looking - people just from their pictures. I thoroughly enjoyed it and it was a very fitting follow-up to "Vodka Alley" the night before, where I found myself dancing to the Eurythmics with a very cute, very drunk political aide. Talk about the dangers of drink magic of vodka.

Sometimes...

...even Kitty gets bored of my stories!!

Silent Witness

As you may know, dear reader, I often accuse Kitty of not pulling her weight around the house. She always seems to be either lounging around on her velvet cushion or sitting on the sofa biting my arm and watching reruns of "Silent Witness" (we love Amanda Burton, even watched the same episode twice in one evening this week - once in English and once in French). But it's all an act. Because this evening, when I returned home, I spotted what looked like a dried-up leaf on the floor and bent down to pick it up, only to discover that it wasn't a dried-up leaf at all but a dessicated mouse!! Just like Professor Sam Ryan, I donned my surgical mask (any excuse!) and carried out a thorough post-mortem. From the absence of any head and the crushed backbone, I determined that the cause of the death was probably "being played around with for a long time before being half-eaten some 12 hours previously". I didn't feel it necessary to call anyone in to identify the body. I just wrapped it in a paper towel and threw it in the bins downstairs. I did feel very proud of Kitty though. Didn't know she had it in her. Jolly good show and extra croquettes all round for dinner.