Squirrel on the menu

Its true then , my sister wasn't having me on with her early morning text . Having taken her Hexhan Courant back to bed due to the storms outside she informed me that the latest delicacy on themenu at Matfen Hall country club was squirrel with chestnuts( obviously with a much posher title) . Having done my research Dining menu this seems unlikely until I discover this Shop Supplies Posh Restaurant With Squirrel Meat (from The Northern Echo) . Oh dear , it seems fine diners in the region are indeed tucking into poor defenceless little rodents . I don't get it . Why would they ? As Laura herself noted its tantamount to eating a guinea pig and after all squirrels at the best of times are regarded as vermin surely . Who would want to eat one on any grounds ? I personally think that apart from aesthetic grounds , the texture would be all wrong . The bushy tail and nibbbling face would be at the forefront of the mind as one carved . The store of nuts and the cute way they run up treees and pose for photos . No , its just not right .
I can feel a letter to Matfen Hall coming on .

It started well . I slept beyond radio 4 snapping into action at 6 30 ( why , on the weekends ? ) and even a bit beyond the 6 45 phone alarm starting up . (I wake with no headache ). I never bother to cancel that as the dog usually gets me up before that in any event . But even she slept in today . I crept down to find her just stirring , the white Ikea humans throw wrapped round her shoulders and the blue and green tartan dogs throw round her waist and lower torso . She eases up and the tail wags once then she settles back down for another five until she is certain the food cupboard door is opening . The Guinea Pigs are rather more sociable squeaking their good mornings and hopping about their domain , stretching their necks and woffling the noses in anticipation of breakfast . The cats appear and start to swarm and trip me . Once the dog's mince is on the computer shows its 10 degrees outside and rather than nip back to bed with the book I get drawn into a blog .
I love blogs .
Today Silliyak has left an intriguing comment on mine and I start reading some of his archives . Soon I am transported to another world and a trip to China ( was it ? I think so ? ) and a potty story ( in the UK we use potty to describe the things babies poo and wee on but I know from my travels in the States that potty there is used for adult functions too , which amuses me no end ) . I find myself laughing out loud and soon half an hour has passed and I am looking at cat pictures and reading witticisms and wondering why my own blog is so pedestrian . Envy is a terrible thing . There is a seagull called Charlie who eats hotdogs and has lived for thirty years and ......
The mince is burning and the cats are not amused and I have to tear myself away . The spell is broken so I serve animal breakfast and retire upstairs , not before I notice Alice is missing , despite having demolished a hearty panful . Silence . I check the stairs . Somehow she has broken through the baby stair gate and is in the bathroom scoffing the cats' breakfast . I adopt my most hurt / cross voice and tell her what I think and then find the cats all sulking in the bedroom , horrified at this breach of the boundaries .

Alice later chases a large lurcher type dog on the beach , turbo charged perhaps by the cats breakfast and is unbiddable . The lurcher is bigger and braver than she is and bounces across rocks and through the sea. Alice follows ( forgetting that she does not do water ) but does not see the lie of the land and falls into a deep pool and sinks .

Later I have yet another nosebleed and return to the house to find the kitchen awash with teenagers making pancakes . There is a blood curdling noise from elsewhere and one of the visitors asked if the house is haunted . Nat and I exchange a look . We are not sure .