Now ain't that nice

Seems I've been forgiven by Millie the cat, she of the Northbank who is the real power behind the Household Jules and who's one of my favorate felines (although of course not a patch on the G Boy). She's had a major huff at me since my unfortunate spontaneous loud laughing at the "turd dragging incident" nearly a year ago, dragging her arse across a lino floor attempting to break off a persistent Klingon warrior and leaving a nice shitty snail trail behind her. Heh. Makes me smile just thinking about it. Anyway's up. Time and persistant cat handling skills pay off; one reluctant stroke under the chin too many bought me a purr and proper friendly attention. They CAN hate you forever. Sometimes they just choose not to.

The reason for my shot at feline absolution was a second attempt north in one week -a promise to take the good lady Jules out and purchase naughty beer like objects in celebration for her overthrow of the Emperor Ming's torture chamber, where he would subject natural herb products to trial by fire and god only knows what else. But Max Von Sydow's unavailable for the sequel, look for Johnny Vegas in a wig. Got to take a look at it in the flesh for the first time since the overthrow and folks, my description of "achievement must be put in it's proper place folks, along with feeding the five thousand, and the north face of the Eiger" is an understatement; the turnaround is total, perfect and to tight budget. I raise my praise to more of a "building a working model of a Saturn Five rocket out of matchsticks" level. Anyway's up, as the good lady now isn't in easy range of a quality alehouse, off in GLC to the excellent Nellies previously mentioned here. Sam Smith's is still tasty and cheap; it's still dark and musty due to wonderful gas lighting and it still wouldn't pass health and safety muster in a thousand years. Hurrah for that!