...I watched a fascinating programme of the Beeb last week. It was about graffiti, and traced its origins back to the days when we lived in caves and painted on the wall. So far so so-so, but it ploughed on, bringing us pretty much up to date, without anything but the briefest mention of Banksy. In fact it spent most of its time in Rome (fans of gladiators drawing on walls), Paris (Viva La revolution!) and New York...advertising board painters getting their own back. Evidently, it's all because we want to remembered...graffiti as our epitaph. It makes sense. But in the narcissist world we now live in, and our addiction to selfies (not me guv), it made me wonder whether the current obsession with tattoos is a sign that we no longer need to mark our territory, but we need to mark ourselves to regain ownership and remind us that 'This is me'.
Anyway, after our trip to Lisbon, The Cat's Mother headed off with her family to France, and specifically to Orange, home of the ancestors of William of Orange, hence an influx of Dutch tourists. Their return journey was some what marred by the Eurostar equivalent of leaves on the line - they had migrants on the line. Now don't get me started on that one...I have a lot to say, but the world won't listen. I had planned for a few days on my own, down in Brighton, but it was not to be. Grandma in Cyprus lost her last dog...Bobby...who had just reached a point where it was so much kinder to have him put down. Not surprisingly, it was immensely upsetting, especially as she and Grandad in Cyrus had decided that there would be no more dogs. It wouldn't be fair. So I decided to pop over there for a few days. It was nice to see them both and offer what little comfort I could...I guess just being there was enough. I hope so. Grandma had been complaining how uncomfortable the heat had become - I couldn't quite understand until I arrived - it was a stifling heat that made it hard to breath. No wonder they are planning to spend some time in the UK next summer - we are looking forward to that. Of course, they are not alone. They have acquired a lovely kitten - a feral - that had damaged its leg, and now hope around with just three functioning limbs. He is remarkably friendly, and affectionate, and an absolute joy - I think he is just what they need, in addition to the black and white female that seems to prefer life outside, but always turns up for food.
