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he for nigh on forty years.’

Probably she has, too – though that was long before we came to the village. Things don’t change much in the country. Our extension is finished – we hadn’t got that a year ago – but you’d hardly notice it from the front.

‘Looks just the same as it ever did,’ says Father Adams.

‘Ah – and thee grass still wants cuttin’,’ says Ern.

My driving lessons have been something new, of course, but once I pass my test even that will be taken for granted. It’s only being a learner that arouses comment.

As Charles says – And how! He had the brakes done last week. I said I hoped it wasn’t my fault. He couldn’t blame that on my going through a pothole or too near a wall? Charles grinned and admitted that he couldn’t. The thing we didn’t know, of course, was that in adjusting the brakes the mechanic somehow mis-aligned the braking lights. As soon as the engine was switched on, whatever the car was doing, the braking lights were on.

The stranger who stopped us and told us about it miles from home, realised something was wrong – he could understand the lights being on going downhill. he said

– but not when we were going uphill as well.

They didn’t realise it here – or they pretended they didn’t. Being so near my test I am now driving openly through the village with L-plates, getting used to the lane.

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Double Trouble So it was that when I was seen driving our car up the hill with the braking lights resplendently on – ‘How’d she manage that then?’ Ern enquired interestedly later of Charles. ‘I’ve never seen anybody doin’ that before.’

‘Spec thass what they teaches ’em nowadays in these schools,’ said Father Adams. ‘With women they probably wants to be double sure.’

They are a pair of old rapscallions and they know it

– but we wouldn’t change them one bit. Part of the joy of country life is its affectionate gossip and banter.

And for us it is also two Siamese cats, sitting up on the hillside. A little blue-point batting flies; a big seal-point proudly watching her; and nearby, a donkey grazing and surreptitiously eyeing the pair of them. Just as it has been now for so many years and yet might easily not have been. If we’d mourned Solomon and Sheba so much that we’d decided not to replace them.

Replace them, I say... Seeley is so much like Solomon that it might easily be him. Sometimes I forget for a moment and it is Solomon who races down the hillside, jumps on to my shoulder and rubs his face against mine to show how he loves me. Certainly he reminded me of Solomon when I put Annabel in the other night. Seeley had been hanging round waiting for his supper and had presumably forgotten the time of day. When I came out of the kitchen with Annabel’s water-bucket he thought I was bringing out his breakfast. That, after all is the usual procedure – he waits at the back door, I come out carrying the saucer and we march in procession to the conservatory.

We went in procession this time, too. I carrying the water-bucket, Seeley accompanying me, mrr-mrring and anxiously looking up at it... straight into the conservatory 152

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Doreen Tovey

where he looked back to see if I was following. If that wasn’t like Solomon, I said to Charles, thinking his supper was in the bucket… a couple of bat-brains if ever I’d seen them; he and Seeley both.

Lovable bat-brains. And though Shebalu is completely different from Sheba, she is lovable too. Long-headed and Roman-nosed, where Sheba was round-faced and flat-nosed... but very beautiful, and as much a part of the place as we are ourselves. Shebalu and her ball with the bell on, and her addiction to washing up mops.

She is going off into the woods now, with Seeley close behind her. As we hope they will be for many years to come.

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CATS IN THE BELFRY

Doreen Tovey

£6.99

Paperback

ISBN 10: 1 84024 452 6

ISBN 13: 978 1 84024 452 6

‘It wasn’t, we discovered as the months went by, that Sugieh was particularly wicked. It was just that she was a Siamese.’

Animal lover Doreen and her husband Charles acquire their first Siamese kitten to rid themselves of an invasion of mice. But Sugieh is not just any cat. She’s an actress, a prima donna, an iron hand in a delicate, blue-pointed glove. She quickly establishes herself as queen of the house, causing chaos daily by screaming like a banshee, chewing up telegrams, and tearing holes in anything made of wool.

First published over forty years ago, this warm and witty classic tale is a truly enjoyable read for anyone who’s ever been owned by a cat.

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CATS IN MAY

Doreen Tovey

£6.99

Paperback

ISBN 10: 1 84024 497 6

ISBN 13: 978 1 84024 497 7

‘All our animals showed their independence at a dishearteningly early age.’

The Toveys attempt to settle down to a quiet life in the country. Unfortunately for them, however, their tyrannical Siamese cats have other ideas.

From causing an uproar on the BBC to staying out all night and claiming to have been kidnapped, Sheba and Solomon’s outrageous behaviour leaves the Toveys at their wits’ end. Meanwhile Doreen has to contend with her husband’s disastrous skills as a handyman, and a runaway tortoise called Tarzan.

Both human and animal characters come to life on the page, including Sidney the problem-prone gardener and Blondin the brandy-swilling squirrel. This witty and stylish tale will have animal-lovers giggling to the very last page.

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THE NEW BOY

Doreen Tovey

£6.99

Paperback

ISBN 10: 1 84024 517 4

ISBN 13: 978 1 84024 517 2

The Toveys are no strangers to disaster, particularly the Siamese-related kind, but when their beloved Solomon dies unexpectedly, they’re faced with a completely new type of problem – do they find another cat to replace the one they’ve lost?

The animals always win in the Tovey household.

It is with the interests of Solomon’s (very audibly) grieving sister Sheba at heart that Doreen and Charles set off in search of Solomon Secundus, affectionately known as Seeley.

Joined by a myriad of endearing characters, Seeley ensures he’s living up to Solomon’s standards in just the amount of time it takes to fall in a fishpond. This is an enchanting tale that will tickle your funny bone and tug on your heartstrings.

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www.summersdale.com

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