Men, Mice and Mating

"Of Men and Mice " - Contrary to Steinbeck's tale of woe, I've had a blast in the last day or two. Yesterday I had a message on Twitter from a friend. Well, he was a client, became a friend, and now he's a client, friend and fellow activist too, it's all very confusing but in the most delicious way. I checked out of my hotel room in Dundee early and scampered over the Tay bridge to meet him in Edinburgh. He took me out for a delicious meal of my fave steak, rounded off with an Irish coffee. After that we went for a stroll around the Royal Mile and found a wonderfully erm .. "different" pub. There was a guy playing a guitar on stage who looked like he might burst into tears at any minute. He was bellowing out ballads with some completely unnecessary guitar solos thrown in and a large dose of angst for good measure. ( Never mind, there were some appreciative folk who looked like The Living Dead who seemed to totally feel his pain, man. )

Ahem. We headed back to the apartment for some fun of our own and later took some photos for the hell of it. Some of them were even in focus.( Actually there's one belter of my behind which I might put on my site. )

This morning we rolled out of bed and went for a full fry up and ignoring the neds who were loudly discussing those who "abuse the sick" behind us, our conversation came around to mice. ( We really do have the most bizarre conversations ). I don't mind spiders, snakes, heights etc. but if I see a mouse or worse, a rat, I'm up on the nearest available light fitting. Years ago I can remember a summer's day when we all woke up to the sound of a high pitched screech coming from the kitchen. The little mouse that had been literally "terrorising" my Mother had got himself caught in a trap. Unfortunately, he had seen it coming at the last minute and pulled back, so it was only his paw that was trapped. There were rivers of tears as we pondered what to do, my next door neighbour thought we should drop a yellow pages on him and end his misery, but in the absence of my Dad or any amount of murderous tendencies we just couldn't go through with it. In the end he just keeled over and died, probably from shock, but he was afforded a funeral in the flower bed in the back garden with full military honours. ( Well, wrapped in kitchen roll anyway ).

Speaking of cute furry creatures, the other day I was shuffling around at home and on the TV in the background I happened to notice two koalas having ( what we call in my house ) a "special cuddle". It was an amazing sight, the prospective lovers call out to each other and once he's been given the green light, the male sidles over and does his thing. After a couple of ( it must be said ) fairly impressive thrusts, when he has erm, "finished", the male rewards his female partner by sinking his teeth as hard as he can into her fur. That's feckin' gratitude for you, eh ?

Finally, once the female has freed herself from his clutches, the male climbs up to the top of the highest tree and roars to announce to all local males that he has had his wicked, furry way.

Hmmmm, perhaps we are not so far removed from the humble koala after all. ;)

Nite,

LL xx