No stitches required!

I love the bright light on a clear January day; it is different to any other time of the year and full of promise. Fresh green shoots from dormant bulbs push their way up through the earth, knowing that just around the corner comes the warmth and longer days of spring. Being an eternal optimist I love Spring - it's my favourite season; full of promise, freshness and the beginnings of life.

Pebble was still drowsy when I picked him up from the Cat Clinic. No stitches required! I asked how his testicles were removed without stitches and was given a very detailed account. It was micro-surgery at its best; tiny hole in each sac, then the little testicle is literally 'popped' out. The skin then shrinks down upon itself and closes up without the need for stitches. Very clever! Why had I envisaged it being such a big deal? Probably because so much emphasis is put upon male genitalia? Hmm, mainly by men me thinks? Anyway, Pebble didn't seem to notice their absence and he still races around the house, attacking Banjo at every opportunity to practice his male skills. I haven't the heart to tell him that he is not so male any more and he can stop the pretence. Banjo seems to have noticed a change in his physiology and is now getting tough with him. Pebble has been investigating his rear end, but still doesn't seem to notice the absence of two little marbles. I wonder what the vets do with them all?

He went back to the Vet today to have what's left of his genitalia checked out, ie no infection or resultant soreness. He was so terrified he wet the blanket in the Cat carrier - poor mite. Then when we arrived home he proceeded to act male again and attacked Banjo, who calmly swiped him round the head with her paw.

As for the online dating; today no emails or interest... perhaps I've now seen all there is in my age range and area of Oxfordshire. I have had to block one... he kept asking about my interest in erotic movies and couldn't wait to 'get it together' with me. He may be in his early fifties but he looked as if he was seventy at least; yes, youv'e guessed it, teeth were not good, hair combed over his head to hide the bald bit and eyes hidden by thick lensed glasses. Oh how I wish I could just walk into a pub or bar on my own and get talking to a nice man without him thinking I was on the prowl. Is Britain still old-fashioned in its views about single mature women out in bars? Or is it me?

Another... an amateur photographer said he could 'do me some very flattering photos' if I liked! How kind! I must ask the Vet for more details about testicle removal... preferably with stitches!

Young Stags

Poor Pebble; he is, as we speak, having his little pebbles removed at the Cat Clinic. I called him this morning; he came running, hoping for his breakfast and chirping with tail in the air. He was grabbed and stuffed into the Cat Carrier not knowing what fate awaited him. He cried all the way and hid under his blanket as we entered the Clinic. I had to sign a consent form as I was told that sometimes anaesthetic can be a problem. Now I'm worried and await a phone call.

Another email from the online dating agency; they seem to be getting younger... a very dishy twenty-seven year old seems to like me... I have children older than he! He is Spanish, so there has probably been a misunderstanding during translation. Where are all the well-balanced, not-to-bad looking, strong and not too short men in their early fifties? The trouble is, I am still probably comparing potential dates with my lovely deceased man, and in my mind, none have so far matched up. I know... I can hear you say that I must not compare anyone else to him... but he was so bloody perfect, he is a hard act to follow. I think I must resign myself to never finding anyone. Not a bad thing perhaps... I shall turn into an old widow, along with cats and knitting by the fireside. In fact, I'm already there!

Meanwhile, I can gaze at the few gorgeous young stags who are making contact... I know a good optician who can sort out their short-sightedness, and I also know a therapist who can help with their 'mother' fixation.

Across the field, do you think?

We had walked for a good three miles before the boys exclaimed they were hungry and cold. Should we cross the farmer's field or walk the long way round? I was cold and the wind was from the North; biting and brisk. "Okay boys, lets walk the long way..." "Oooh," they exclaimed with disapproval. I walked on, they could follow or not... they followed. Before long we were home and dry. Cheeks were red from the cold and the house was warm. Time for another exiting DVD, knitting, home-baked muffins and tea.

While the boys watched Hornblower Disk 2 I sneaked upstairs to log on to the Dating Agency I've recently subscribed to. Perhaps it's me, or perhaps there are no suitable men out there, but, the photos I see are not particularly attractive. Men of my age range seem to have let themselves go a bit! Teeth, if present, are yellow or grey; hair, if any, is either sparse or like an overgrown lawn. Most, do not smile, but either grimace or frown, or both. I think men, generally need a long training course in how to appeal to the opposite sex. I despair. I have had offers from 35 year old men who still live with their mother, or from men in their seventies or eighties who think I'm wonderful. Where are all the suitable 50 - something men who have taken the trouble to look after their teeth and hair?

As Wogan would say, "Is it me?"

While I don't particularly care if a man has hair or not, I do like a man to have teeth! When a man posts his details on a dating website, I hope there will at least be something along the lines of: colour of eyes, hair, height, likes and dislikes etc. I made the mistake of being overly curious of a man who had failed to fill out any of the above boxes, and emailed him to ask why. He played a game of 'cat and mouse' until I eventually coaxed him into sending a photo. Then I saw why.

I can't help but compare the profiles of interested males with my late husband. Perhaps I'm just not ready yet... either way, none so far has matched my darling man. Perhaps online dating sites attracts certain types of which I have discovered I am certainly not interested in.

So, I have to ask myself, 'Do I want a full-on relationship? Or, do I want just a sexual relationship? In the interests of friends and daughters who may read this; I can't answer that question.

I would be grateful of some advice...