On Friday afternoon, a softly whispered message came our way. It made its way to Tabitha and Freyja as well.
"We are getting married tomorrow. If you want to see, be at this place at this time. Bring your families. But Hush. Say nothing. It's a secret."
So we all scrambled to rearrange our day. The Builder and I moved our Saturday afternoon plans to the morning. Freyja cancelled her afternoon plans. Tabitha and Gareth moved theirs a little. And we were all in the appointed place at the appointed time to watch the nuptials, wearing hastily organised wedding finery. (I wore a dress that Stella gave me and a pair of sandals that are actually Lindsey's but happen to be at my place at the moment!)
Several other people we knew were also there (along with a few people that we didn't know). It was a very lovely wedding ceremony and I am glad that we were invited and that we were able to go.
We had a lovely natter afterwards with the people that we knew, then the bride and groom and their immediate intimates went elsewhere, and the rest of us made our way back to our respective homes.
But, of course, I can't tell you about it - because it's a secret!!
I'll tell you more when it isn't a secret any more :-)
The Builder and I went home and had homemade pizzas for his birthday tea. We had a pleasant, lazy evening. And I went to bed at about 10, or perhaps 10:15.
I was peacefully sleeping when The Builder burst into the bedroom. "Quick," said he. "Get up!". But I don't want get up. Why should I get up? There are no alarms sounding. Go away and let me sleep. "No, no," said The Builder. "Get up. You really want to go downstairs." No I don't. But he was absolutely insistent. So I got up and went downstairs. And there, sitting on the carpet was this:
The Builder had been pondering the idea of going to bed when there had been a hammering at the lounge room window. Not wishing let mad axe murderers in he had opened the window slightly to see what this strange behaviour was in aid of. It was the bloke who lives in Number 12. He had found Marlo in his cellar. I think he and his wife had been away for a couple weeks because they had seen paw marks on the kitchen floor and had heard a bell and soft miaowing and they are not the sorts of things you would not notice for almost two weeks! Once they let the cat out he had belted up towards our place. They knew we had a black cat because they see him in the front window, so he came to see if it was ours, and if it had come home. And home indeed he had come. I *said* that he would come home if he could!
He's very thin and was hungry and thirsty. But otherwise seems unharmed. He is very, very snuggly mind. I think he purred all night long.
So, a birthday, a secret wedding, homemade pizza for tea and the return of the Prodigal Cat. Not a bad day, then.
Mr Number 12 came round this morning to make sure that Marlo had indeed come home and that he was OK. They think that he had got into their place through their cat flap, which they locked when their cat died 18 months or so ago. Alas, they had accidentally locked it to that cats can get in but not then get out again. I think they've probably fixed that now. And Bev next door dropped in to check him out. She and various other neighbours have been looking for him when they were out and about.
Just as well I hadn't got rid of his bowls and cat food, although we are quite low on biscuits.
The Builder and I relocated to Edinburgh on the 11:00 train. We're flying to Kirkwall tomorrow lunchtime. Freyja has headed out to Tupton to make sure that Marlo really is back home :D (Bev is going to feed him and keep an eye on the house when nobody is there; we get back next weekend.)
|A Freyja selfie|