The entertainer

I'm one of those people who dreams but forgets what they dream about.  Imagine all those wonderful crazy dreams and not having a clue your own entertainment centre has been in full swing, because it leaks away so quickly.  Sparkling will ask me what my dreams are about and I just honestly can not say.  After which she goes into a long monologue about her dreams.  This morning it was an alien invasion and the Illuminati.  Apparently both were united in destroying the earth.  Fatalistically Sparkling and close relatives, me included had accepted this was going to happen.  So we all headed into town together to get drunk and have a good time.  If it was going to happen there was to be nothing done about it.  I asked if she panicked at all at this thought and in her dream she did not, she was pretty calm about it.  World ending, equalled lets party and get drunk.  If there's a good reason to party then the end of the world certainly would be a good enough reason.

When I'm with Sparkles my role in the world changes in multiple ways. To begin with my internal waking up clock has to adjust, just as the internal going to bed changes.  Late night bed and late morning get up, cat interruptions, staying in dressing gown to mid day, the routine is entirely different.  No Fish Factory to attend, but pots of paint and painting which have to be done.  I must admit to not cooking much this time round, even though there is some flour in the cupboard with my name on it waiting to be made into bread, which I'm sure will be a disaster.  The week is nearly over and it feels to have gone so fast.  Very fast.  Another of my roles is the entertainment factor for Sparkling.  I was told I had a big nose and big ears, then an ear got pulled and twisted till I cried out and Sparkling laughed.  Ouch.  I was also accused of being a big girl and needing to grow some balls.  I am fat, it is me who has to lose weight.  I in turn am asked how Sparkling looks, she looks fantastic every time.  Then I am chastised because Sparkling thinks I am lying, but if I said anything other than Sparkling looked beautiful I'd be dragged through a thorn bush naked, tarred, feathered and then thrown to baying dogs with a sign on my back which read "fresh meat, take a bite."   At this moment Sparkling is reading a tabloid article about Kylie Minogue.  Apparently she'd just had a fling with Claude Van Dam, reading this piece is not a matter of news to Sparkling it is so she can now torture me with derogatory comments about Kylie.  Which you'd expect nothing less from the tabloid press.  Except Sparkles gets delight as she throws another insult and then looks in my direction and waits for the reaction.  How crewel she can be.  I drop a comment about Michael Buble, but it has no matching barb to it.  I'm on a loser here, I'll just sit patiently and hope it wears itself out.

Tomorrow I'll be on a train back to London.  My life will be so much duller without waking up with Sparkles, even though I am a source of fun.  Oliver the cat will not have his companion to let him out the door or window when he likes.  Cloud hangs over Scotland and it's a shame I can't get out in the garden and give the grass another cut.  Or sit at the table with a cup of tea and Sparkles feeding the birds, other cats of the neighbourhood and myself.  Time passes by so quickly.  Especially when every moment is spent in the company of Sparkles, mad cat, crazy garden birds, pots of paint and Lemon Pie.