You may ask how I knew we had been to the Cotswolds – well, I might seem totally uneducated to you, but just because I have not yet mastered the English language vocally, it does not mean that I don’t understand every word that is said by the humans. Believe me, I hear plenty! Boy, do I? Many a time have I wished that I could just shout out “Shut up you lot, I’m trying to watch the News at Ten”, but I just have to suffer in silence.

Anyway, I digress – back to our trip to the Cotswolds.

It did not look like we would be going on holiday as Mum had planned. First of all, Jemma was very sick when Mum and the gaffer came back from their long week-end away. They had gone without us to a posh hotel for a wedding week-end, they called it. They seem to have spent more time in a health club than at a wedding, from all accounts. However, Jemma was very sick, as I said.

The minute Mum walked through the front door, Jemma honked up all over the hall carpet and then sat in the middle of the kitchen floor, looking very seedy. We all thought that she was upset because Mum had gone away for so long without us, but Mum rushed her off to the vet immediately. She took me as well, just in case I had caught anything from the reprobate.

Jemma had to stay at the vet’s for two whole days. The vet said she had a viral infection and Mum insisted that they took a blood test to make sure she had not got anything really nasty. We spent two wonderful days together, just Mum and I. The gaffer was busy buzzing back and forth in his usual frenetic way. It was really like old times before the gaffer brought Jemma here to stay.

When Mum went to pick Jemma up from the vet’s, they did not really want her to go home because she was not yet eating, but Mum insisted that she would rather try to coax her into eating at home, than leave her to pine away in the hospital.

It was quite awful, because Mum thought Jemma was going to die and was very upset. Although Jemma and I do not normally get on, I was really quite sorry that she was ill and Mum was upset, but I am afraid I was a little bit rotten to Jemma and could not resist the temptation to bash her quite a lot, because I thought she was probably putting most of it on in order to get attention.

Jemma, fortunately, improved by the end of the week so Mum decided that their holiday should go ahead as planned.

The next hurdle that they had to get over was the gaffer’s business.

Poor Mum, how she copes with that man I’ll never know. She had planned out their work schedules for three weeks prior to the planned holiday but, as usual, nothing was done according to plan. Half of the work was still outstanding at the beginning of last week and it looked like they would never get through the schedule.

At the last minute, one of their sub-contractors managed to pull out all the stops and completed a good deal of the work schedule. Mum made the difficult decision of carrying on with the holiday and failing to satisfy the remaining customers, which would be two weeks overdue by the time they got back. She got it all sorted out though by sending their overdue customers a note and apologising for being late.

I don’t even think the gaffer realised she seriously intended going away until Friday afternoon, and in his usual haphazard manner, he forgot to tell the staff until the last minute, so all hell broke loose when they realized they would not be getting paid until the following Monday!

Meanwhile, Mum had been ill herself most of the week and was getting worse each day. I thought she had caught something dreadful from Jemma, but Mum said it was totally different. By Sunday afternoon she was so bad that she could not speak at all. It was really quite peaceful, but very worrying because she kept on making choking noises when she was rushing up and down the stairs loading the caravan with her fifty outfits that she has to take with her, “just in case”. I just followed her everywhere she went, wondering if I would be going with them, or if Jemma and I would be left at home again with Richard.

The gaffer was flitting in and out all day, in between doing gardens. When he finally came to help Mum, she had nearly finished anyway. She had deteriorated rapidly during the evening, and was extremely ill by this time. At one point I thought she was going to choke to death, she could neither speak nor breathe. The gaffer was so worried that he called out the doctor to her.

When the doctor came he advised her not to go on holiday as he thought she might have pleurisy. Mum, being her usual stroppy self, argued that she might as well be ill in the caravan as here at home. Anyway, the doctor gave her some tablets and a prescription for some antibiotics to pick up before she went away the next day.

Drama of the night was yet another burglar alarm sounding. Mega-hero gaffer dashed off to catch the intruders he thought were in the Italians’ house up in the corner. Mum stayed at home calmly dying. Half an hour later mega-hero had not returned so Mum wondered whether it would be wise to phone the police to inform them, but decided that would be too difficult because she could not speak!

Instead, she got dressed in her tracksuit ready to tackle the same intruders that had obviously overpowered mega-hero. As she departed, I followed. I could always pile in and help her myself, if necessary – hell hath no fury like a Siamese protecting her Mum!

The Italians house was in darkness, four cars up the driveway. All looked ok. It was unlikely thay had been burgled after all, but what had happened to mega-hero?

Mum knocked at Gill’s house next door. I hid behind their car, ready to pounce.

A young lad came to the door. Mum opened her mouth, but no real sounds came out! She started to choke again, and I thought I would have to go in and find out for myself if the gaffer was in there, but just then he realised who was at the door. Sometimes I think he has possibly got half a brain, at least. Yes, you’ve guessed it, he got sidetracked when he discovered there was no robbery in progress, and went in for a coffee without a thought for poor Mum worrying about him at home. Continue Reading >>

Siamese Tails – Introduction