On Saturday I moved into my new flat. It is a big semi-detached terraced house with three and a bit floors, creaky stairs and floorboards, central heating that only is on for an hour in the morning and an hour at night, decent sized lounge, separate dining room, huge bathroom with bath and shower and toilet, separate shower, and another separate bath and toilet. There is an outside area and a lovely brown coloured 70s kitchen and even a laundry room - I am one for my washing machine not being connected to my kitchen plumbing. My windows rattle and I am right above the boiler so I get some interesting noises. There is a train line right outside but the trains are quite quiet anyway.
I am living with three English folk, two guys and a girl, one Italian guy and a Swedish girl. Quite a mix of people and ages, but thankfully, no students!
When I moved in, I met my first neighbourhood cat. I saw this one perched up on the neighbours roof. As much as I called to it, it ignored me even more. So I went to get my camera so I could take a picture, because it was going to be quite a good picture of a London cat. I came downstairs and sitting on the brick wall of our garden was another, a normal looking tabby cat. So, I had a chance to have a cat cuddle.
Went up to it, said puss a couple of times and then tried to pat it. This cat was going to have
none of this and hissed at me and then batted me with its paw. I decided that this was not the cat for a cat cuddle today. I told my flatmate that the cat had batted me, and not believing me,
as apparently this particular one can be petted, went out to check it out himself, exactly same result, cat hiss then bat. But he stayed around for a couple more hisses and bats and then complained that the cat got him.
I have seen another white and ginger cat around but haven't met it yet. So there may still be hope for the neighbourhood cats.
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