Snapshots VI

Monday: I'm on the 07.21 train to London. It is meant to depart Northampton at 8.05 but ten minutes later it is still there and I am among a carriage load of people sitting in increasingly irritated ignorance. By 8.20 they tell us that there is no driver for the train and that the next London bound departure is sitting on the opposite platform. Several hundred people leave their seats in quick succession, head up the stairs, over the bridge and board a different train.

I am reading a book that appears to have been written for the opposite sex and concerns the misfortunes of black women in the South of America in the early sixties (and the families they serve). Up ahead of me a huge black guy who resembles nothing more than the Hulk, had the marvel character been made into a blaxploitation movie, is reading a copy of 'Culture and Imperialism'. I feel a bit humbled.

I call the cats' protection league to see if they have space for a mystery stray. I leave a message. No-one calls back.

Arriving home at 9pm I make it my mission to ensure that Mystery does not cause me similar problems to last night. We face off in the hallway, a high-noon moment. She evades my attempts to stop her but is somewhat panicked when I give chase. She hurtles so fast towards the stairs that she skids past them on the tiled floor, her back legs sliding somewhat comically beneath her. I hit the foot of the stairs to stop her climbing them at which point she does something I've never seen before jumping vertically to a height of around four feet, just above the radiator. Upon landing she hurtles back to the kitchen and out the cat flap. For the rest of the week she runs a mile whenever she sees me, I feel a bit guilty.