This is Georgie. He’s a HUGE ginger tom. He’s a gentle giant and very friendly. I’m looking forward to lots of cuddles with this purr maker. What a colour.

Ok. Had enough now. Two days without sniffing or snogging soft, furry catto ears is just far too long. Luckily I’ve got a new cat-sit tomorrow. Georgie, a gentle tom cat. I hope he’s into his ears being stroked otherwise we’re going to run into problems.

York. Simon’s birthday. Extra cheat day (woohoo). Totally loving this eclectic, ancient, vibrant city. Easy to navigate round. A river running through it. Nature. Green spaces. Happy tourists. Friendly locals. Cosmopolitan edge. Elegance. York, you rock!

I’ve started to notice when I scowl, grimace or frown. And I don’t like it. Even in moments of stress, I’d prefer to have a soft placid face rather than one with harsh lines and a grumpy expression. It’s something to think about. I’m human with a multitude of expressions but what expressions do I want to put out into the world? What can I possibly have to frown about in my beautiful rich life? I don’t need to frown. I don’t need to scowl. I’m doing it over the smallest things. It’s not healthy or productive. It’s just a habit that can be fixed. One from childhood probably, to get my own way or make the world pay attention to me. It’s time for my face to become vibrant and full of positive expressions. Whatever I see and whatever’s going on at the time.

Dear little Cookie. Fingers crossed for a positive and swift recovery for you sweet one. You really deserve peace. I’ll keep you updated on her progress.

Action catto. Spiralling, splatting, swishing the rainbow feather of doom.

Baby Buzzface (how big is his head?!). Won’t see him till next year 😩 We had a one night stand last night. My last night with him. He slept in my bed. He’s the most snugglypuffin catto I’ve ever met. He’s got a lush long exhale that says ‘I am so comfy with you right now’. Aww.

Last night with this gorgeous boyo. Not sure when I’ll see him again. I’m breathing in his yummy furry smell and feeling grateful I’ve spent time with him this week. Buzz. You’re the best. You’re so silky and gentle. Wanna sleep in my bed tonight? hee hee : )

An elegant, bright feast for the eyes (and other senses, if you partake in a cocktail).

Cheat day. The Ivy style. Tunbridge Wells. Bring on the pancakes. Nom.

I took dear little Cookie to the vet today. There’s something wrong and so far we don’t know what it is. She’s old and frail. I’m trying not to be worried. Going to the vet today brought up some memories. I was 14 when my cat best friend Amy was put to sleep. We had five pets and she was the first to go. She was only 8. I was mortified. I remember coming home alone that day and balling my eyes out on the floor like a toddler. The other dogs and cats gathered round me concerned. But no-one could replace my Amy. It was so unfair. She should have had another ten years left in her. That was the first time I’d ever experienced loss in such a profound way. One minute there. The next, those blue eyes were no longer.

I developed some interesting OCD habits to cope with her not being there. I imagined, in fact, she was everywhere. I would leave drawers and doors slightly ajar so she’d be able to get out of them easily. They definitely could not be closed. I’d say my prayers at night and always ask that Amy was protected. Still to this day, if I see a dead animal by the side of the road, I kiss my hand and send their spirit up to Amy and all the other pets I’ve loved and lost. By now there must be a whole gang of them, wild and tame, getting along just fine. At least a thousand I’m thinking. I’ve been saying this prayer for a looong time. I see them gamboling across a grassy plain and grazing in fields full of flowers. Everyone’s happy. Everyone’s snuggling. And they’re always there to welcome in a new fallen comrade.

I hope one day I meet them too. Especially Amy. I would give her such a big cuddle and tell her I love her.

Been tripping out on these little beauties. Reflected light on shiny glass balls (full of bubbles) rocks!

I felt as if I was in an altered version of Bambi this afternoon with some added cattitude. A herd of deer grazed in the buttercup field as I danced. Their little white tails bobbing and swishing. They walked then galloped across the paddock like school children running across the playground behind their teacher. One brave doe lead the way. The male took the rear then realised he was being left behind so had to warm his hooves up to catch up.

Thumper hopped on by with his own bobbing tail in the air to graze alongside them. I was waiting for Flower the skunk to turn up too when things began to occur inside the house with the cats. A huge dead squirrel lay in the hallway brought in by a formidable apricot coloured cat. He’s got some guts has Leo, taking on a squirrel. They’ve got a bite on them.

Outside, baby birds twittered and followed their mothers round begging for food and fluttering their little wings like they were having a dance off with themselves. And one lone cat, the gentle quiet Cookie, slunk away to the stables to get some peace and quiet from the boys and have her daily counsel with the horses.

Update - Tonight we rescued a darling little frog who found itself trapped in the conservatory being circled by two cats. Its little squeaks drew me in and I went into protection mode guarding it from danger. Now it’s outside, hopefully on its way back home. Goodbye little froggy, may you be safe from harm this night.

Day 19 - Sat down to start writing and a favourite song came on and I got a second wind. Woo! Quite exhausted now. In a good way. I feel like fat is shedding faster these days and tone is coming around my chest, ribs and shoulders. I’m becoming leaner up there.

Each day my posture aligns a little more and my body basks in new strength. The dance gives me vigour. My body is calling out for it - I do more dance - I get more aligned - I feel more power. Dance is making me stand up straighter. Stand up higher. Dance is giving me balance. This physical change is unreal after so many years of unhealthy suffering.

I’m finding my posture and losing my belly. I don’t look pregnant anymore. The shape of my body is changing. I’m never going back. To oblivion. To ignorance. Me and my gorgeously strong and sassy body are here to stay. Dance is my key to freedom.

Get a room boys 🙄

Brotherly Love

Fine specimens of yummy kissable ears.

Thank you Buzz for you ideas on punctuation. I will bear them in mind. No I don’t think we should put any more rude words about your brother in here. Yes I know he bit your bottom this morning and I’m sorry about that.

There’s something about cat’s ears that make them lush to kiss. They’re soft and springy, smell of sweet and comfort, have extra fluffy tufts where the ear meets the fur and my lips feel happy and nourished. Buzz seems to enjoy it too so I need no more encouragement than that.

After reading this article about high heels I thought about my own love for them as a kid, trying mum’s on when I could. I felt cool. And high. Then as an adult, I realised my feet (and body) didn’t like them. Have you ever tried walking in flip flop high heels? I have. Impossible.

Day 18 - I look in the mirror now and see health. I look in the mirror now and see strength. I look in the mirror now and see a sassy dancer dancing back at me. I’m so deeply connected to the beat, the rhythm, the passion. I’m soaring. The song - Into the Fire - Kove, Folly Rae.

I’m a sucker for green eyes. Cats or humans. Maybe not snakes though. They’re a bit too dangerous for my liking. I wouldn’t want to get hypnotised 😃

Most photogenic cat ever? Quite possibly.

Travel featured lots as I grew up. Dad was in the travel industry so doing deals with hotels and tourist boards in different parts of the world was normal. We got to explore. We had lots of adventures. Here I remember a few.

As usual, my most fond travel memories relate to food. Lefkas in Greece gave me amazing chocolate and vanilla Mr Whippy ice-creams, Montreal showered me with giant multi-coloured bubblegums, Boston introduced me to excessive amounts of donuts and pancakes (so did Egypt for that matter). I think I went to heaven right there when I discovered my first Dunkin Donut shop - we never had anything like that in the UK back then. I got delicious homemade lemon ice-lollies at the Acropolis (so needed in the sweltering 40 degree heat), and super posh orange juice and madeira cake in a swanky hotel on the island. Travel was great for a tummy like mine.

We went on a road-trip to Greece. It took us six weeks. I remember fast driving along hairpin roads through the Dolomites to catch a ferry (we missed it) and mum threatening to leave dad because he’d flirted with a French lady and taken a cigarette from her when she offered. He was supposed to have given up. I ate a lot of cans of tuna and fresh tomatoes on that trip. Mum had a whole crate of them in the boot. I remember my mum arguing (in English) with a watermelon salesman in Italy at the side of the road because she thought 1000 lire was too much (it wasn’t, it just sounds it, poor guy). I also remember reading a lot of Roald Dahl on that trip instead of looking out of the window at the beautiful scenery.

My parents put up with a lot from me really. Apparently I tripped over at the side of a famous cathedral in Milan and mum said we all had to go back to the car. I can’t believe dad agreed when all he wanted to do was go and see the front of it. Talk about being under the thumb. He would tease us about that in later years - the cathedral he nearly saw.

In a Danish hotel at breakfast I got overzealous with the muesli, enjoying the sensation of it cascading into my bowl spoon after spoon. Fast forward and I had a whole pile of it in there and then decided I didn’t actually like it. I can remember dad’s face now, scowling, shoveling muesli sawdust into his mouth so as not to appear rude or ungrateful for the host’s hospitality. I don’t think I’d ever seen him eat so dramatically before. I learnt my lesson. Don’t like muesli. Definitely don’t like upsetting dad.

I remember police turning up at our apartment in Cyprus because mum had taken photos of an army base and they’d tracked us down and confiscated the films. They thought we were spies ha! I also remember sleepwalking to the end of the bed, peeing, and then climbing back in and going back to sleep. The next day I asked, did that actually happen? Yes. It did.

Silver linings. Don’t you just love them.