How to use this Page

Alleycat had a little word with me yesterday. He’d heard me talking and he knew I was contemplating writing a post that has nothing at all to do with cats.

“You know that’s not possible,” he drawled, “I can’t allow that, not in my blog.”

“I quite understand, Alleycat,” I said, deferentially. “Why don’t I start a new blog and then I can write about other things in that blog and carry on documenting the Ginge Club’s adventures here?”

“You mean you’d write about non-Ginge Club matters?” Alleycat was surprised; he obviously found the concept far-fetched and in rather bad taste; he wrinkled his eyes in disgust and curled his lip scornfully. “Surely you can’t be serious, old chap?”

I affirmed that I really was determined to depart from the norm and write about new things, and when he heard this Alleycat had a little smile at my expense. He narrowed his eyes and advised me to watch my step.

“I want you to make absolutely sure that the two blogs don’t overlap,” he said. “If you can promise me that I may give you my permission to divide your energies, but mark my words, I don’t want you slacking and the Ginge Club posts must always take precedence. I won’t tolerate anything less.”

Alleycat had made his humble wishes known and I had listened very carefully and obediently to his wise words. At least, that’s what I made him think. Later on we gave Pink the news, and she was really agitated and uncertain for about ten seconds and she wondered where it would all lead. With any luck it’ll lead you here.

Pink’s been nagging me to publish an account of her adventures with the pirates, and because she’s a persistent little brute, I’ve decided that the only way to silence her is to let her have her own way.   I’ve agreed to write down the whole particulars, leaving nothing out except the whereabouts of Alleycat’s treasure cave, and that only because there is still treasure not yet brought to light. In the end she’ll probably force me to finish the story and publish it here in its entirely. She’s offered to dictate it to me chapter by chapter as the weeks go by and here, to get the ball rolling, is a link to the first 3 instalments.

The pirate (Barty Sharp) who figures in chapter 3 sailed with William Dampier and had a rather interesting career.  In something like 1697 (I forget the exact date) he returned from the sack of Panama and was arrested at the request of the Spanish Ambassador, put on trial, and escaped hanging by a hairs-breadth.  Having cheated the gallows, he purchased a derelict hulk that had been virtually abandoned on the shores of the Thames, fitted her out and hired a rag tag crew of scallywags and ne’er do wells, who sailed their rotten vessel into the channel, stole a flock of sheep from a farm in Dover and straightaway sailed for the West Indies, capturing a more suitable vessel en route.  It was probably around this time that he crossed swords with Susan Skew and met his match, so to speak. All this is supplied from memory. I read an account of Sharp’s adventures years ago in the Hakluyt series, but I haven’t checked the details in ages. There’s more about him in Basil Ringrose’s South Sea Waggoner, which you can find quite easily on the Web, and a few reference in Lionel Wafer Secret report, but most of the rest of the information you’ll find is quite inaccurate and if you want the truth the best thing would be to ask Pink.  She probably knows as much about him as anyone in these days.

I’ve decided to offer two of my picture ebooks at a great discount – permanently. Why? I want to get my ebooks read as much as possible so it makes sense to lower the cost – to less than a … Continue reading →

It’s the time of year for sharing – and I’d like to share Wiggle Jiggle Free. Eggy Leggy is on promotion too. ‘Wiggle Jiggle’ – my picture story ebook is FREE to download on Amazon on 19th, 20th, 21st December 2013. (Kindle Edition) Click HERE to … Continue reading →

We hear tell of cats who went on adventures  and travelled far and wide, or cats who bravely opposed injustice and fought for freedom, but in general cats have little truck with that sort of thing.  Now and then Alleycat and Bamber go out into the world and show themselves to the neighbourhood, but Pink never goes out at all, and that’s why I  think she may be the brains of the outfit.  None of the rival cat families ever come into Alleycat’s garden, because if they did Bamber would be straight out of the cat-flap to engage them in heated discussion, and if Bamber failed to impress them Alleycat would plod out and ascend to the top of the highest fence post and stare at them. That usually does the trick.   Pink on the other paw stays indoors all day and all night, profiting from the other cat’s exertions.  In the cold weather she has prime spot in front of the hearth and she’s allowed to sleep wherever she likes without being disturbed.  She can even walk over the heads of the dogs on her bony little feet and they know quite well that they’re not to complain.  Pink, for all her pretty ways and her silly habits,  may, in truth, be the most Machiavellian and formidable cat of all and easily the cleverest warm-blooded creature living on Nine Foot Way.  And that’s a frightening as well as an amusing thought.

Do you remember that advert where an old man rings round bookshops until he smiles – puts on his hat – and nips out the door? He is looking for a book by J. R. Hartley and the twist is … Continue reading →

It’s business as usual in the Six Foot. Or is it? Pink’s retreated indoors, and the dogs are looking after her. Most of the time Alleycat’s glued to his gentleman’s chair in the garden, but Bamber’s decided he’s got to increase his patrols, and he’s also delved a lair for himself in the jasmine, overlooking the Six Foot itself. That’s his chosen spot.Indoors, the bears are reproducing. Don’t ask me why. They’re spreading over the furniture and generally taking over the house, whilst out in the world the black and white cats increase numerically, though sheer numbers aren’t the same as strength of arms and that’s why Alleycat isn’t worried and seldom moves from his easy chair. Bamber must be worried a bit though, or else he wouldn’t have built his look-out post above the garden gate, so he can watch for all-comers and cry to Alleycat if hostiles approach or seem to threaten. No one’s dared to encroach so far, and if they do Alleycat has plans. One thing I’ve noticed is that he’s getting fatter. Years ago he was poisoned and almost died (lots of local cats perished) but Alleycat survived. He lost a lot of weight back then, but his power and wisdom were so great that he lived through it all and learned to be even lazier (and wiser). Now he’s rebuilding his fat reserves in anticipation of a hard winter (or something like that) and being lazy is his secret weapon. So really, now that I think of it there’s quite a bit happening in the Six Foot after all.

Not a lot of people know this, but Alleycat was living in Six Foot Way the day we all arrived.  He was in the house, looking after it, keeping it clear and keeping it clean and when we showed up out of the blue he allowed us in through the door and gave us permission to stay. It’s hard to say how old he is. Old certainly.  Years, decades.  He’s lived a long time because he’s lazy.  Sometimes you see him on the lawn, staring at a blade of grass, and then you realize he’s staring at the drop of dew that’s hanging on the end of it.  And then finally, you understand that he’s staring at something else entirely, something only he can see.  What I see is that he’s the laziest cat who ever lived. He’s the acme of indolence. Pink’s no better (is that a good thing?). Alleycat’s training her up to do nothing.  And doing nothing is the secret of living for ever where cats are concerned.

This is Pink’s Snatcher look.  She learned it when Snatcher lived with us and terrorized the rest of the animals with his high-handed haughty ways.   Its years since Snatcher left Wayside Cottage and went to live with the Car-Man (who taught him to be nastier than he needs to be) but you can see there are things behind his eyes that he doesn’t bother to hide.  The same goes for Pink.   All our cats have secrets in one way or another, except for Bamber.  He’s simple and true and honest.  He wears no mask.  He’s the only normal cat we have.  Snatcher was a dreadful thief, and he lied all the time, almost without trying.  He never took the blame for anything but when he left we found a large stash of contraband (including some precious stories) behind the wardrobe in the spare room, where he had his quarters.

A fat cat thin or a thin cat fat?  When Alleycat was young he was thin, but suddenly one day he became enormously fat, like a bear getting ready to hibernate, or like a cat leviathan.  But there was method and purpose behind his bulking-up.  He was building his physical power in the knowledge that soon he’d be poisoned (and he was) but he got himself through his ordeal and burned off the poison by burning away his fat.  He came near the Door of Death, and he saw through it, and who knows what arcane knowledge he glimpsed out of the edge of his cat’s eyes in those days when the prison was attacking him. But now the poison’s gone and he’s as thin and fit as he was when he was young, and as for me I’m a little bit fatter than I’d like to be, so Alleycat and I have started running together.  We jog together along the disused railway line near my house, and sometimes we stop and listen for the ghostly whistling of the old-time trains.  By the way, it’s Alleycat in both of the photos, fat and young at the top, old and thin at the side.

When Snatcher lived in the Six Foot the rest of the animals spent their days and nights waiting for him to do something bad.  Now that he’s gone, they can all relax and be a little bit naughty and eccentric themselves.  Snatcher’s nastiness equalized everything and it wasn’t possible for anyone else to be bad while he was around, because compared to him their nastiness would have looked like the acme of good behaviour. Now that he’s left the pressure’s off, and Bamber can be naughty if he wants to. He doesn’t have to spend his time watching Snatcher and waiting for him to step out of line, and he doesn’t have to patrol the Six Foot and stop the neighbourhood cats from coming to paying Snatcher court. Instead he can try stealing my dinner (no one minds this) and Alleycat can sit in front of the dogs’ water bowl and stop them from drinking (he does this a lot, it’s his prerogative).  Everyone here’s the best of friends and yet in a weird, unexpected kind of way we all miss Snatcher and wish him nothing but the best, just so long as he never comes back!