One last pussy

Just indulge me. We're back to knitting soon (or, crochet! I crocheted something! Or, my thoughts on burlesque, fan dancing, or the Beauty Myth as it applies to yoga),

I stare moodily at the river

Whyohwhyohwhy don't I live on a cool boat with a big fat cat, being counter-cultural? It would be great. I would cook thrilling veggie meals on my little stove, and there would be homemade crochet throws on my bed and I would wear vintage and have a nose piercing.* I would drink red wine and lean back on my tie-dye cushions and I would talk to my cool friends about Important Things, perhaps strumming a few chords on my guitar, and I would not moan about not having a spare room and a kitchen diner at all ever.

It's all in the shading, you see. Somebody take me to the theatre

I just liked this poster. I should go back to drawing nudes, actually I could just follow Partner round with a pencil, especially when the weather is a bit warmer. That would be cheaper too.

The Foggy Knitter recommended an excellent blog - Streetmogs - for those of you who like to see these naughty creatures in the wild, so, this is one for you, Aunty Kath. When Partner has retired, he has occasionally stated his intention to exploit Cambridge's one enormous natural resource and run Pussy Safaris, where he will stride the backstreets of Cambridge with a flag and a posse of highly-paying tourists, shouting, 'Come on down here, if you're lucky you might see the great big hairy one who lives at number 52, and then we're off to the pub'. I am divided on whether this will be a healthy pursuit for Partner: however at least he will get some fresh air and exercise.

* I absolutely want a nose piercing. But allergies and reasons.