Bitch on the Blog

April 2, 2018

Alternative Comment Box – Nick

If I were a teacher having to face class every day I’d be both overjoyed (facing class) and in despair (when marking their work).

Dear Ramana, on his blog, writes a heart warming “first page”, in response to which Nick – who appears to be incapable of talking about anything other than himself – writes, and touching it is:

“The first page of my novel would be rather too long to reproduce here. The first sentence maybe. Someone else has already used “It was a dark and stormy night”, so I’ll have to think of something else. “I was born in one of the coldest winters of the century, when strict rationing was still in force a year after the end of the second world war.”

To which I replied, and I am aware of how cruel yet instructive my comment is:

“You need an editor, Nick:

The Allies and their enemies had bombed the shit out of each other. To little gain. As is my wont, I was born in March – an unusually unwelcoming one. Strict rationing in full swing, my mother wasn’t able to nourish me to full potential. The year was 1946.


If my father taught me one thing it’s that “dog bites man” does NOT make a headline. “Man bites dog”? Yup. In the meantime just keep barking.

Belated Happy Birthday, Nick. And don’t worry about the dog. Rarely, though occasionally, even I don’t expect an old one to learn anything new.




July 12, 2017


One of the fairies at my cradle made sure that I’d never be bored.

Her intention was good. In practice it brings problems. None of which can’t be solved; but problems nevertheless. The main one being that I waste (how does one define “waste”?) on wastes of space. I do I do I do. Because I never give up. And if there is one adage I cling to like a calf following her mother’s udder it’s that only the boring are bored. That way you dig your own bore.

Be still, my beating heart.

In the motherland there is a saying, and I have no idea what it means but it sounds good: Den inneren Schweinehund ueberwinden. Roughly translated: To overcome your inner swine (where the dog comes into it I do not know). It’s taking me forever (the present continuous wisely chosen) to overcome my swine’s dog – but, I am getting there. With regret, I shall concede that some in blogland (no, not ye, my faithfuls) will bore. Even me. Actually, that’s not true at all. The more boring the more amusing and interesting they are. In a sort of forensic research type of way.

Hugs and hisses,


September 14, 2016


Filed under: Animals,manners,Wildlife — bitchontheblog @ 15:39
Tags: , ,

Cheerful Monk aka Jean posted a cartoon on rescue dogs. Since I can’t leave an answer there (I did alert Jean that her new fire wall is the Cerberus of all gatekeepers) I’ll leave my comment here instead:

“Every time a dog wags its tail what I, first and foremost, feel is their sense of anticipation, a dog’s hope. That’s why it’s hard, almost impossible, to disappoint a dog.”


January 30, 2016


Whilst I do believe that colour does not beat the starkness of a black and white photograph I do have difficulty liking those who paint the world in black and white. Those who indulge in generalizing instead of taking their magnifying glasses to the particular.

Yes, the general and the particular. What a marvellous subject. Lending itself to all FACETS of life. Today, going the way of least resistance, I shall focus on the soft subject of dog and cat lovers.

Please note that I said ‘and’ NOT ‘versus’. There is no law to say that you have to be either or. Or can’t be both. Sure, we may have affinities. Men, mice. Some even keep hamsters. A friend and neighbour of mine used to. I can’t say I loved them (I loathe anything on a treadmill) but they were living things (not that they knew it) so I looked after them when friend was on holiday. Even when friend was not on holiday I’d get those blasted things over to my garden and let them chew the grass. I’d have preferred a sheep or a goat but friends can’t be choosers.

If I were technically as adept as all of you I’d now attach to this post a photo of my fifteen months old self and Pongo. Pongo was my first body guard, an Alsatian. Sitting, at my side and on his hind, taller than me. And yes, the picture is black and white. Which is just as well because Pongo’s fur was black and it was midwinter and the snow was very very very white.

Where were we? Cats and dogs. Animals. By temperament I’d say I prefer cats, for purely selfish reasons. Cats want nothing from you. They give (not least half dead prey put at your feet as a sign of affection) but that’s about it. Dogs? Dogs are takers. They – not by desire, by default – may look at you as the leader of the pack. Don’t let yourself be flattered so easily. As leader of the pack you are looked upon to provide. PROVIDE. Like what? Fun, entertainment, and, naturally, food. You are at their beck and call. And those eyes. Those EYES. Pleading, needy. That’s ok. I don’t mind pleading, needy, that’s what makes dogs human. But, for heaven’s sake, there is that never ending sorrow in a dog’s eyes. It’s why, and please shoot me now, why I firmly believe that those prone to the metaphorical black dog on your shoulder should not keep dogs. Keep a cat – if you must have a pet – instead. Cats are affectionate to the point of suffocating (me) yet they never expect you to throw a stick. And to reciprocate I never expect them to fetch it [the stick].

As an aside and whatever you do: Do not keep a gold fish. They are soul destroying (their own and yours).

Hugs and hisses,


September 9, 2015


Filed under: Amusement,Animals — bitchontheblog @ 17:59
Tags: , ,

And now, for light relief and something else: Animals.

Not for the first time do I find myself bogged down thinking about man’s relationship with animals.

Why is it that some [animals] are so abhorrent to most humans, and others we keep as pets? For me the main criteria to like anything living (other than plants which have their own ways of enchanting or disgusting you) you have to be able to look them in the eye. Without eye contact, in my view, you are nothing. Which is, presumably, why I find mice (the speed runners of the small), spiders (snakes with eight legs) and any other you can’t nail down so abhorrent.

(Wo)man’s relationship with animals. There have been a few dogs in my life. One I grew up with. A magnificent black Alsation, impeccably behaved. Other dogs by proxy. There is one thing, no two, I don’t like about dogs. They go for your crotch and they are needy. Can’t stand it. Understand the crotch thing though they might be a little bit more subtle about it – particularly if you are a girl of seventeen, but that needy look when they can’t put themselves aside for a minute does test my patience. Main thing I keep reminding myself that animals do what animals do. It’s not their fault that some of them don’t fit my perception of good company.

Cats. I love cats. They are not needy. They do their own thing and when they come and talk to you they do so not because they want you to throw a stick to retrieve but because they want to talk to you.

Having said that, one of our cats, Bouncer, was probably the most stupid animal ever (in a sort of intelligent way) you may wish to encounter. Bouncer was born the youngest of our cat Fleury’s one and only litter. Born with his caul intact. A parcel. Which denotes luck. Well, he was lucky in as much as the Angel and I decided to keep him and give his two sisters away. Fleury, his mother, didn’t have that much patience with him – which led to some words between her and me, but that’s private. Anyway, where Fleury was eloquent but never a lap cat Bouncer was huge. I blame his father. So, yes there I was some years ago: Two arms broken and in plaster cast, one leg down, pinned to the sofa, on my back, watching Bette Davis’ movies on a loop when Bouncer descended on me. All eight and a half kilos of him on my chest and purring. That cat’s middle name was either affection or downright selfishness.

Miss both of them, and the one before who used to run after my pencil as I covered the page.


February 1, 2014


Filed under: Amusement — bitchontheblog @ 21:05

Is there anything worse than falling in love? It’s a rhetorical question.

And, no I haven’t. We all have one first line of defense. Arm’s length. My limbs are long. And my legs strong.

This comes from cleaning walls. I tell you: Clean … revolution. I don’t know how the moneyed classes keep their staff down. If I were (by profession) a cleaner the world would not only be cleaner but heads would roll. As it is I wipe my own walls. And paint them. Bloody hell. Where are arms when you need them?

Never mind. Have cloth. Will wipe. Scrub. And generally be happy. For a long time I thought it might be better to live life back to front. Knowing a pitfall before you put your boot in it. No more. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  Dirt, dust, debris will follow loyally.


August 16, 2012

Round and round

Filed under: Animals — bitchontheblog @ 17:55
Tags: ,

In the line of my desk’s vision is a florist’s shop. Run by a mother and her daughter. Both as round as apples. Sweet and lovely. Wish I could give them more business. Can’t, currently, afford to buy myself flowers.

They have a dog. It’s not small. Neither is it big. It’s ugly. The street has – most painfully and as slowly as only the English can – been pedestrianized in the last many months. So whilst the big wigs who give a shit over a parking fine which makes no dent in their restaurant bill will park where they shouldn’t the dog is now out there. Not that we have much sun but whenever I see that dog outside the florist’s shop, on the freshly laid pavement, that saying about “Mad dogs and Englishmen in the midday sun” springs to mind. Kittens chase their own tail. But then cats make do with whatever moving comes their way. That dog runs around in circles. Incessantly. If he were a human they’d carted him off to a lunatic asylum a long time ago.


July 8, 2012

It stinks

Filed under: Communication — bitchontheblog @ 19:31
Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I am so glad I am not a dog. Not because I don’t want to follow the leader. Well, that too. But mainly because a dog is slave to his nose. It informs his world.

Smell being a much underrated of our human senses. How many times have I told the Angel to forget about food’s “Sell By”/”Use by” dates and use his nose instead? I learnt how to avoid food poisoning before a fridge freezer was a must-have in every household. A north facing larder off the kitchen would do. Those were the days: When eggs were laid daily, and cheese would go walkies – eventually.

We all know what perfume was invented for, other than lure: A mask before we had hot water on tap. Naturally, now in a time when we are so afraid to leave a faint smell of ourselves there is the deodorant. The devil’s invention if ever there was one. When the boys (that’s the Angel and his friends) were between the ages of 14 and 18 I’d gag on the amount of masking odour before they all exited in the morning. One day I had had it. Told them all in no uncertain terms: Clean is good: Shower. Forget the deo: You are young men whose pheromones were invented to attract (subtly) that which you most want: Yes, girls, maybe even a woman. Or if you must mask that which comes natural at least spend some money on a scent, a little more expensive than cheap. It will pay.

My lecture must have worked because these days, and for the last two years – when they leave in the morning – I am still overcome with their whiffs, but not of the synthetic kind. So I will  have to open all windows but at least for the right reasons.

Women are terrible, particularly when they go for the orientals. Meet them for dinner. You sit there, in a cacophony of nauseatingly fighting with each other smells, whilst trying to eat. It’s not only uncivilized, it borders on bad manners. Or let me enter a department store’s cosmetic and perfumery area: You will face spray guns. I wish I were Clint Eastwood. In fact, one of these days, as part of my many researches, I will NOT dodge any of those sweet girls but let all of them spray me. On exit I am sure I will not only CONFUSE dogs but make them howl.

The above was brought on by having had an inordinate amount of garlic, cucumber and yoghurt earlier today. Rule of thumb: Once you can smell yourself do keep a distance.

To be continued …


February 7, 2011

Order, order

Filed under: Happiness,Health,Human condition — bitchontheblog @ 18:24
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

Before I pen the second instalment of script “That Woman” – giving Con and GM time to go out and buy earplugs to blend out echo – a brief observation: There are projects which one regrets ever having started. Still, what goes in must come out as your mother will have told you on memorable occasion of you swallowing  a button. Before Conrad takes my swallowing  button as a four year old  as further evidence let me tell you: What exactly? Crap, I now have two options, no three: I can stay in neutral and say something along the lines of how much it did NOT hurt against all expectation; I could observe that I am not as tight arsed as some (which being below the belt is a no go area); the third – being so enchanted by my own voice – I have now forgotten.

Yes, the project: Five weeks ago I started sorting out old photos. Since I never do anything by halves (such an unfortunate trait) naturally every work surface, including the dining table, has been covered in photos and old letters ever since, to be archived into a system as yet evolving. Before any dent could be made into chaos I succumbed to that mother of all swine flus, quickly followed by its piglet. It basically wiped out a whole month. Now I am in recovery. I am normally so full of beans I can’t stand this floundering. Head held high dragged myself to doctor in vain hope of instant cure who told me to take it easy and REST. What does he mean ‘rest’? It’s what I’ve been doing.

Anyway, in between wondering at the miracle of being that woman of no name, this afternoon I used pocket of sudden energy to blitz. Oh did I blitz. At least we can eat in style again. If nothing else.

Don’t you love bones? Jean, being a dog lover, will no doubt know what I am referring to.



Create a free website or blog at