Fireman's pet hate

Pussies galore
This is the answer to the age old question 'What do firemen hate the most about their jobs?' and 'What do you get most calls about?'

Rescuing cats from trees and other high places is very
exasperating. Most of the time the cat is not stuck at all, it is merely exploring or fleeing something e.g. a dog, a bigger cat, a raptor (depending on country of origin). Secondly, they are most ungrateful creatures at the best of times and will fight its rescuer with tooth and claw. One firey described cat retrieval as being 'like juggling a chainsaw with one hand while trying to climb down a slippery metal ladder', with the other. It is because of this that a lot of cats are set free before the (nearly there) bottom rungs and the adage of cats landing safely on all fours can be regularly tested.

If you ask a fireman 'What is the best way to get a cat out of a tree?' He will suggest the use of a rifle, crossbow or other ballistic device. Some, more practical members of the brigade may suggest the sudden removal of the said tree itself. Thus removing the location from the event. This is unusually existential for a firey but may happen.

My story today concerns a certain hero from the brigade who was attending a call to rescue a cat from up the inside of a chimney in an old house. They approached this call with the same dedication and concern as they had for every 'cat in trouble' call. They were more miffed than motivated but showed the little old lady great courtesy in listening to her forlorn tale. She was clearly upset by the disappearance of her dear companion.

It was summer and she did not have a fire lit in the hearth. The cat had disappeared from the room that morning. She had searched the whole house and the cat could only be in one place, up the chimney. The firies consider that low tech solutions are best and that they would begin by shining their torches up the chimney and stare very hard into the dark. At the same time, one man went on to the roof to see if the cat had made it up that far. It had not. The little old lady went off to make tea and biscuits for her rescuers, as is traditional and in some way, expected.


In her absence, they began their search. One firey had his head and most of his shoulder up the lum and still could neither feel, see or hear the cat. The second firey listened on the wall for scuffles and scratching but all he could hear was the other firies stomping about. They owner shouted from the kitchen 'Can you see her?' 'Not yet!' they responded. In their minds, there was only one thing to do. Punch a whole in the wall above the fireplace. This would allow them to look further up the chimney and may also let them see if there was anything below, apart from the upper half of their colleague. They had to escalate the situation. They needed executive permission from the lady so that they could damage her house.

Being a sweet old lady, she granted them permission to do whatever they needed to do to rescue her beloved pet. So, while she continued to make the tea, the firies punched a whole in the wall and removed enough bricks to allow one man to stick his head inside. His head was inserted and whilst his colleagues shined their torches both up and down the chimney, the firey looked for signs of life or a stuck cat. Signs of a stuck cat; The reflections of a cat's eyes, the shadow of its bulk or the pungent odour of a scared cat's urine. No presence was detected. The owner cried from the kitchen again 'Have you got her?' 'Not yet!' they responded.

The firies were concerned. They had not only punched a gaping hole in this woman's wall and spread the rubble around her living room floor but they still hadn't found her stupid cat. The owner was preparing to re-appear in the living room carrying the tea tray with cookies and treats for the local heroes and they were stumped and empty handed.


Just at that, one man nudged the other and nodded with his head towards the sofa. There, under the sofa, watching the firies destroying the house, was 'Tiddles' the much loved pet cat of the little old lady. Not lost but hiding and observing. They had trashed this woman's house for no reason. They were in deep trouble, the woman was coming into the room. Although they were case hardened firies, they had broken out in a deep sweat and panic was growing.

These men are trained to think clearly and respond appropriately in the most difficult and traumatic circumstances and now was the time for action. In the split second that the woman arrived in the room carrying her tea tray, one of the fireys grasped the cat from under the sofa and stuffed it into the new hole they had made in the wall. Tiddles was too stunned to react to this surprising event but as the woman appeared, the firey pulled the cat back out of the hole in the wall. Like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat "There you are cat' he announced with a flourish 'Safe at last'.

There was a tearful reunion between cat and owner and the heroes
of the day were duly rewarded by old lady hugs and kisses and fed tea and cookies. They continued to be thanked and regaled all the way back to their tender (love me tender: as Elvis always said).

This poor woman does not know to this day that her heroes had come into her house, inadvertantly defaced her living room, abused her cat, left without fixing the damage and finished by drinking her tea and eating her cookies.




Sometimes its hard to tell the good times from the bad. The world keeps on spinning. Best wishes for 2009!

Xmas - 12 Days of it

There is a Partridge in your Pear Tree

The Christmas song “Twelve Days of Christmas” has been a British tradition for centuries. The tune is almost certainly French in origin and the English words can be dated to 1780 and are probably much older. While some people attribute a Catholic mnemonic to the gifts, the song is more likely to come from a memory game played by children on Twelfth Night.

Since 1984 a US financial firm has tried to price the gifts (364 gifts in total, in case you’re wondering)—this year they totalled US$21,080 (£14,071), up nearly 8% from 2007.

A Partridge in a Pear Tree

The Partridge in a pear tree is a rather peculiar image but some say reflects the French origins of the song since the French for partridge is perdix, which is pronounced per dree.

A partridge is the first of a series of meats being offered by the true love (read on!). In the Catholic interpretation, the partridge, the first gift from the true love (God) is Jesus.

Two Turtle Doves

Meat number two, or representative of the Old and New Testaments.

Three French Hens

French hens, because they were generally regarded as better eating. Or representative of faith, hope, and charity.

Four Calling Birds

While most modern versions of the song has calling birds, the original text has four colley birds—another name for the blackbird. Alternatively you’re thinking of the four Gospels.

Five Gold Rings

If we’re going to take the vegetarian option, the birds have been gifts purely for their singing or egg-laying capabilities. And here we get something worthwhile (and in these economically uncertain times, five gold rings is a gift not to be sniffed at). But given the theme so far, we're probably talking about ring-necked pheasants. We may of course be talking about the first five books of the Old Testament that describe man's fall from grace.

Six Geese a-Laying

Laying geese are regarded as more valuable because they lay, apparently not as common as you might think in your average goose. This is turning into quite a feast. Goose was once the Christmas meat of choice and is making a comeback for those who want an alternative to turkey. Turkeys don’t feature in this song since it was really the 20th century before it became the Christmas dish of choice.

Six days of creation, represented here.

Seven Swans a-Swimming

We're on the last meat course. Yes, swans used to be eaten too, especially in high society (the swans on the River Thames all belong to the Queen). Or we’re looking at the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit.

Eight Maids a-Milking

Fresh milk was also a great luxury in the times before refrigeration—as well as a source of pudding since custard and cream both come from milk. Or a reference to the eight Beatitudes.

Nine Ladies Dancing

Phew! The feeding has finished and we're on to the entertainment. Ballet such as The Nutcracker Suite remains a seasonal treat. As do the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit.

Ten Lords a-Leaping

Well, maybe Morris Dancing was not what you had in mind. But folk dancing remained an important aspect of Christmas traditions well into the 19th century. It may also remind you of the Ten Commandments.

Eleven Pipers Piping

So here comes the music. Or a reminder that there were eleven faithful disciples.

Twelve Drummers Drumming

More musicians to accompany the pipers, unless they are here to remind you of the 12 points of the Apostles' Creed.

God Bless us once and for all!

Trees - Not just for Xmas

I love trees and always have. Leaves on, leaves off, don't care. They give you such a different perspective to life on the ground. You know what the physicists say; your stuck with the gravity you were born with. Clearly this does not apply to a limited number of people who have truly experienced zero gravity above and beyond this planet, plus the dubious 'TV personalities' that clearly come from another, slightly un-parallel, off-centre, universe but not as we know it.

As kids we love climbing trees and just the sight of one reaching up and piercing the sky is enough to make you want to be at one with the tree, amongst its welcoming branches swaying in the breeze. We are somehow empowered and willingly transformed. At once observer and observed, a visible spectator no longer a true participant with the ground dwellers, removed, raised to another more privileged level. Until you realise that you can't get down as easily as you had thought and what a bad idea this is because now you have raised yourself to another level where you don't really belong.

Like the astronauts, explorers and adventurers every one, above the earth and below the seas, you take yourself into an alien place for a short time. It changes your view on the physical environment around you and the nature of ground dwelling humanity.

As an aside, it is my understanding that one of the areas that will undergo rapid growth and change, should mankind ever inhabit zero gravity destinations and /or distant planets, is the interior design industry. You have been warned. Invest now for the future.

The furniture, cushions, vases and miscellaneous 'unnecessary-stuff people' will have to come up with a multi-dimensional model for Feng-shui for a start. They'll probably outsource that back to the Chinese. But not only that, suddenly they can use all that empty space on the ceiling and at the top of walls. This has long been the sole provence of spiders, flying bugs, escaped budgies and the occasional traumatised bat. Yikea!

Let's look back at conifer type trees as used at Xmas. The concept of bringing a dead tree into the house was another great idea and custom from our close friends in Germany. This tradition was passed on to the beleaguered Scots by the English monarchy, despite the fact that most Scots are living within a few feet of a large number of living growing conifer trees, at any given time. They are also known to be quite close to a flock of sheep of some kind and more recently, a McDonalds.

It seems to me to be a crazy idea to pay 50€ for a bit of dead tree, keep it in the house for a bit, let the cat climb all over it and then pay someone to take it away because its displaying more obvious signs of atropy i.e. its a dried out stick looking for a forest fire to complete its lifecycle.

Next year, in the spirit of conservation and mutual co-operation, just buy one big tree for the whole street and share it with your neighbours. Each one donating a shiney bawble or two for decoration. If you do this, don't forget, its very dangerous to use electricity outside the house and specific criteria need to be met to make it safe and weatherproof. So when it come to setting up the fairy lights on the tree, get an experienced electrician to wire them up to the street lights for you. Play safe! and remember trees are not just for Xmas. Gutentag!

Xmas parties here again

I was talking with the people on the BBC Radio Scotland programme about school days and long since forgotten Xmas school dances. Where the only dance you got was from Ms Largebotham the music teacher who thought you had the most beautiful singing voice for a pre-pubescent boy and seemed determined to hold you to close and squeeze it out of you.

Unfortunately I was not the dapper self-confident gigolot I am today, although I was somewhat delusional even in those days. I spent so much time up against the wall at school dances that I earned the name 'Gecko' or 'Geecko', it alternated depending on the mentality of the heckler.

I also had the misfortune one year, to be adorned with an Arran knit heavy woolen jumper which had been knitted by granny 'with the failing eyesight' and 'shaking hands'. A dear woman of whom I was well fond. So I was not going to offend her or incur the wrath of parents by defending my last thin veneer of dignity, so off I went.

I do admit to feeling a certain air of invulnerability as the rain bounced off me and I reckoned that this woolen armour would be able to deflect any minor wounding attempts by the locals. They had long since become experts in organised sectarianism in any form and to show their solidarity to the 'cause' they moved around in small gangs. I use the word 'cause' here because when confronted and attacked by these sporting lads, it was always their chosen response to a request for rational justification e.g. Why? answer 'Cause'.

I enjoyed the wet cold rainy nights because it made the guerrillas run for cover quicker than the authorities and it washed the dog crap off the streets. As I swaggered stalwartly to the school I started to be aware of the woolen jumper losing its ability to deflect water and had instead started to capture as much of it as it could. The garment grew longer and heavier, until by the time I reached the school it was dragging on the ground and I was walking partly crouched under the weight of it.

This incumbent thing, working with some trivial and perverted laws of nature had also decided to gather up as much dirt and leaves along the way as was possible. The dirty water had been wicking up through the garment from the ground and the slightly acidic rain had been doing its best to wash it away. The result was a high tide mark somewhere near my knees that would have enthralled a botanist or microbiologist.

Undaunted, it was like this that I entered the Xmas school dance, like an extra from some apocalyptic Neptune movie. I was hoping it was perhaps a fancy dress occasion and this would give me a chance to noncchalantly carry it off by carrying a small shiny trident, in the form of a school dinner fork that had been playfully stabbed into the noticeboard. It was not fancy dress and I did not go unnoticed.

I stood in my usual corner teetering on the edge of both the dance floor and my self esteem, watching the very precarious grip that I had on my dignity slowly melting and dripping onto the floor. I must have looked like a 'gecko' caught in a net that had been dredged out of the local canal. Best days of your life school days. If only I had known that at the time.