It’s become the pattern that a cat comes by early on Wednesdays. At other times too, but as if she’s attuned to this being the day of the week when my mind is elsewhere, from the job of work. I calls ‘em Differently Creative Wednesdays – or Creatively Different Wednesdays, I’m, y’know, relaxed – and B. refers as Wacky Wednesdays, naughtily. Time on other stuff.
Cat’s a friendly visitor. Closed-book recall, it’s a sleeve note from The Wonderful and Frightening World of The Fall, about a contributing vocalist – and a phrase I’ve like to use since first reading back in Reading. Cat coincides with my replenishing the garden bird feeders; fat balls, nuts and mealy worms – which threesome would make for a cartoon ‘bout some hoodlums.
Blackbird, this year’s lumbering teen, waits in the mess of wysteria, a repetitious slight asthmatic whistle of unhappy – and cat below in a taut-whiskered grimmace, remembering an incident.
Differently Creative Wednesday, cat sits by a Cut-Out Poem in the making.