Ever since Mum was attacked by the Mozzies-from-Hell in Yorkshire whilst narrow-boating and had her ankle blister up like a balloon animal Haggis has faithfully followed the medical advice given to her at the time by local doc, "Rest and elevate the leg". Haggis took to lying in bed in such a way that he could raise his upper leg and rest it delicately on the edge of the bed. He also lies on the sofa by cushions etc in such a way that this position can also be adopted. The 2nd pic is my newly adopted favourite chair. Note by the way our silken, sparkly white fur. We are both fresh from the shampooing of our lives, meted out by Dad on the instruction of "She who decides when we are too mingin' ."
Talking of resting, Haggis declined his walk today, his chin glued to the bed. Dad sometimes gives him the choice nowadays, especially if he's had a big walk the day before. He's 15 now and deserves a bit of rest and recouperation. Last time we walked through the Cemetery we came alongside the Orient Express train waiting there before being allowed to continue into Faversham Station. When it finally glid very very gently into motion (can't be spilling all that lovely china now!) Haggis looked at it as if recalling the trains he used to energetically chase. He doesn't chase the trains any more, the old boy.
Meanwhile (cue dramatic music) things is happening in project Erroll. Mum and Dad have now received contracts of sale to sign and Transfer of Deeds documents to sign and get witnessed. We are, we hope, closing in on an actual exchange of contracts. Meanwhile we have set the next stage in motion, with Dad getting quotes for solicitors over in Ireland and finding out how to start the 'booking deposit' process for giving them some money. We are fingers, toes, paws, tails and everything else crossed for a successful conclusion to this, maybe by Christmas. Will it be? We can barely start hoping to believe it.
We are amused to learn that the people who outbid us for the last house failed, in the end, to raise the money and have had to pull out, dropping that one back onto the market. Mum and Dad both suspected that one was a bit dubious, especially when a house on the market for a year suddenly had three competing bidders in an 'auction' against Mum and Dad. Well, says Dad. It can be a 'Plan B' again but if anyone thinks we're still 'in' at the higher price, they can think on. We're not being messed about again.