A little cat's tale

A few years ago I went up the garden and found that our intact tom cat, Jim, had come home with a kitten. We never did find out where it was from but suspect she was from a litter that had been abandoned.

To make sure that Poppy, our dog, didn't simply chase her off, I introduced them to each other by simply holding the kitten while they sniffed.

It would be hopelessly anthropomorphic to claim that they soon became the best of friends but Poppy certainly tolerated the little cat and the little cat, now grown up, behaves as though Poppy is her hero; following us down the street, greeting her when she comes home, laying ambushes up the garden and getting close whenever possible.

Jim, on the other hand, had a cat's limited repertoire of responses to other cats and rather than fight or pose, he chose to try to have sex.. A mismatch of scale meant this wasn't really possible but it did cause some concern for one of my sons who thought this meant we'd got a paedophile cat. Happily, it only took one or two bits of operant conditioning - a quick biff on the flank - to put Jim off and that was the end of that.

Little cat must now be nearly 5 years old and, even though the name we gave the vet who neutered her was Molly, we've never really managed to call her anything other than little cat. Her behaviour, especially the way she still gallops about the house, sometimes seems more like a dog than a cat and she treats the growl that Poppy emits when she gets too close to one of her Bonios as though it were a loud purr rather than a warning to get off.

Postscript: A couple of springs later Jim's hormones sent him wandering and he was found squashed on the main road a couple of streets away. 

Smooth enough for buggies (and wheel chairs) - wide enough to pass

You'll know from previous posts that I'm keen on encouraging everyday physical activity* and that basically this means making it easier to walk or cycle. Compared to other parts of Europe we in the UK are lagging well behind. Whereas over 20% of journeys in Holland are made by bike. Here its less than 2%.

As part of my self appointed role as champion of getting around under your own steam, I set up a Friends Group for the old railway line that runs between Scarborough and Whitby. Now branded as The Cinder Track, the urban section in Scarborough runs right up through the northern suburbs connecting three schools and three major play spaces. If you wanted to create a quiet off road corridor for the town then you simply couldn't do better than what already exists.

But, and I suspect you knew there'd be a but, if we are ever to bring about a serious modal shift (out of cars and onto bikes and feet) then there simply won't be a solution that doesn't bring facilities like the Cinder Track up to scratch.

The Cinder Track near Barrowcliffe and Northstead

This picture shows the Cinder Track as it crosses to old carriage sidings to the north of the town. At this point the track is less than 2m wide and the surface is badly broken up making it extremely bumpy. Conversations with wheelchair users suggest that most of them tend to go on the grass, as long as its not too wet, to avoid the spine crunching bumps.

Close up of the surface where it is breaking up

A fence next to the eastern side of the track compromises the width even more when the track passes Northstead School.

Further up the track where it passes Northstead School

The good news is that the southern section of the track, between Manor Road Play Area and the ironically titled Safe Ways Park, has been given a decent surface of proper width and is now very popular with parents who have children in buggies and is no longer avoided by the wheelchair users.

The Cinder Track approaching the town centre

But, and I suspect you knew there'd be another but, its been extremely hard to convince the Borough Council, who own the track, or the County Council, who are responsible for transportation and highways, to make the necessary investment.  It seems that spaces such as this, and the potential they offer to improve public health, cut pollution and reduce congestion, simply haven't quite made it onto the conventional political radar. 

*See  The cost of sitting around in North Yorkshire

A brief moral dilemna

Just over a month ago the tenants of a small house that we let in Scarborough did a runner. Luckily for us they weren't to far in arrears and it would have been far worse if they'd stopped paying rent and then obliged us, after the statutory two months notice, to take legal action to get them out. As it was they abandoned a load of rubbish they no longer wanted along with three rooms where they'd got as far as ripping off some of the wallpaper, with a view to redecorating, and took all of the light bulbs ( a very old fashioned gesture of defiance).

I'd known that things were likely to go badly for some time when I realised they'd been buying domestic appliances from Brighthouse; a store that provides overpriced goods at extortionate rates of interest to people who can't get credit elsewhere. Now the hidden part of their business model means that, like old fashioned hire purchase, you don't actually own the goods until you've made the final payments. If you fall behind at any point before them they simply take the goods back and put them into storage until you not only start paying again but also pay the costs of the storage.

So, there I am tidying up and finishing off stripping wallpaper when there's a loud knock at the door. It's the men from Brighthouse and they've come for the telly, the washing machine and the cooker. After a brief conversation, where I explained that I didn't know where they'd gone and that I'd been left in debt too, they went on their way.

Now I probably could work out where they are (there were letters from a Housing Association in Oldham) but because they don't have any money I'd be unlikely to get anything off them and the hassle simply wouldn't be worthwhile. But, for a brief moment I wondered whether, if I knew where they were, I'd let Brighthouse know. Had it been some local business that they'd ripped off then I would have thought about it for a little longer but as it was the thoughts of spiteful retribution quickly passed and I was more than happy for Brighthouse to take the hit. Besides, I'd be surprised if they didn't have an investigative team of their own for precisely this kind of case.

Things have now settled down, I've got a decorator in to bring the place up to scratch and he's liaising over colour schemes with the new tenants who'll be moving in at the beginning of April. Meanwhile the mantlepiece is starting to groan under the weight of final demands from mail order companies addressed to persons unknown, at least to me.