In which the Rodent returns home to Mousehaven.

Today started well, in 100% cotton bedding, which I don't think I've appreciated loudly enough, and went on to include a bath, a breakfast of Chinese food and an escort to Euston including help carrying my bags to the train. I thought I was in coach A, so we walked along the long, long train all the way to the end where coach A was. Then, once on the train, with my bags, I looked at the ticket again to see which seat I was in. It was seat 20A. In coach C. Oops.

The journey went along much like that, with long stops, people eating loudly, someone loudly trying to rearrange the transport system to his liking with extra platforms at Stoke on Trent for services to Derby and so on, and the usual pounding head and waves of nausea.

I passed the time reading Intelligent Life, which is a magazine the Economist have out, mostly online, but with an additional glossy coffee-table magazine which I thought I would enjoy more than I did. It seemed somehow a little smug and over glossy and shallow, where the online things I saw before were fun. Perhaps I just wasn't in the mood.

I survived that journey, and the long, long, long walk (with bags) to platform 14, and the incredibly crowded train from Manchester to Bolton, which is to be expected if you will try to travel at the height of rush hour as I did. I managed to get off the train, but I squished somebody doing it, which fact does not make me unhappy, but was unavoidable. I kept giving her a chance to move ahead before plastering herself to the side of a seat where she could at least lean over a seated passenger, but she would stay at the seat backs and so, she got squished by me and my bags. There were three very impatient and larger men with large suitcases behind me, so she is probably very squished. :0(


The taxi back was simple and easy, although the rain was something to behold. There had been a period of blat around Stoke on Trent, which Pol says has been there for a week or so. Some sort of water dragon or something? There was more blat in Bolton after some fine days while I was away. I have a little weather doohickey that keeps me informed of what it's like outside for days when I don't want to look.

Back at Mousehaven, Tiff was pleased to receive a bag of Tootsie Rolls and assorted associated sweets, and showed off a very clean home. I usually keep on top of things, just about, but this was a house that had been attacked in a determined manner by someone fit and well. It's nice. Everything sparkles.

I put on a beef and vegetable stew which will now be tomorrow's dinner, but was meant to be tonight's. Celery, carrot, leek, onion, red pepper, beef and flavourings. It has used all the veg left over from my last shopping trip, leaving an empty drawer ready for tomorrow's assorted vegetable goodness. I love having veg on sale so close.

After really only seeing Tiff in passing, I deserted her and vanished upstairs to spend time with Pol, who had clearly missed me. I ended up going with him to the pub meet, feeling unusually fit and ready to go, despite I think zero drugs of any kind all day. I blame a week of good feeding and company for that. We nearly missed dinner, but Wendy rescued us and ordered on our behalf and we got everything, including some really nice falling-off-the-bone lamb in the richest thickest gravy ever, and a banananana split.


Then back home, to play with Moth, who had found some carrier bags that were getting uppity and wanted my help, with a stick, to make sure they were suppressed as firmly as they should be. She's now by my side, purring madly and gently reaching for me with a paw when she thinks I have neglected scratching her head for too long.

I had a really, really good time away, but it's so nice to be home.