There's a large pile of wood on the mooring. It's been there for some time now. The lummox began collecting it about a year ago and over the course of the last twelve months it has steadily grown in size. Over the summer I have enjoyed clambering over it and sharpening my claws on it as it's a great place to exercise and I don't get Ange telling me how naughty I am which she has the bare-faced temerity to do when I sharpen my claws on the log basket/full length mirror/couch/dresser etc etc. Huh! However, the time has now come for my log pile to go. The nights are drawing in and a chill is in the air. Pixie therefore must be kept warm and snug.
So fat boy now has the task of sawing and chopping the wood up, stacking it in the shed and keeping the log basket replenished at all times so that from now until April I shall be cosy. He made a start on it the other day but to be honest it was pathetic. You should have seen and heard him. Sweating and wheezing and cursing and shambling about the place like a geriatric sasquatch, grumbling about something called sciatica (???) and clutching his lower back every ten minutes. Never mind clutching at it my fat friend, I thought, put your back into it. By the time he'd finished just a few measly lengths of oak had been transformed into fire logs, maybe enough to keep me warm for about a fortnight. Well I'm sorry but that's piss poor. I've half a mind to show him how to use an axe if I had rough, calloused hands like him instead of the fine, shapely paws that I have. Honestly he's about as much use as... as... as...
the dog!
Anyway, winter is upon us and I shall be spending a lot of it in front of the fire so he needs to get his finger out. I believe the scouse hippie is going to be joining us again soon so perhaps between the pair of them they might get the job done. Perhaps!
P x