He is the bert*

Regular readers will have noted that Lady Bracknell has, of late, generously permitted her editor to use the pages of this blog to record her trip to London.

Despite the editor's protestations that she has only reached as far as Friday to date, and that she has much to say about both Saturday and Sunday, Lady Bracknell is of the opinion that it is high time for her to reassert ownership of her own blog.

Reminiscences of London are thus suspended (albeit temporarily) so that the latest member of the Bracknell household may be formally welcomed.

Caspar being once nicely settled in to the gentle rhythms of Bracknell Towers, Lady Bracknell turned her attentions to her search for a suitable junior member to complete the feline complement. For some years, her ladyship has been much taken with a relatively new breed, the Selkirk Rex. The attraction of the Selkirk Rex derives from its having both a curly coat and a body type conforming to that of what Lady Bracknell would consider to be a "proper cat". (Lady Bracknell has no doubt that there is much to be said for both the Cornish and the Devon Rex, but must confess that, to her eyes, they bear a striking resemblance to the piskies which inhabit those parts.)

To Lady Bracknell's considerable joy, the editor's determined interwebnet searches revealed that there is a breeder of Selkirk Rexes in South Cheshire. It having once been established that the redoubtable Becca would be more than willing to act as chauffeuse for such an adventure, Lady Bracknell lost no time in contacting the charming Pam at Mewsoscats. Having anticipated that all the kittens born this year would have been snapped up some time ago, Lady Bracknell came as closeas her upbringing will permit her to being beside herself with excitement when it was revealed to her that two of the little chaps born in May were still available for purchase to the right sort of owner.

A deposit having been put down, and a date set for collection, controversy began to rage over the appropriate name for what will be a very large cat indeed once fully grown. Lady Bracknell, being an admirer of the works of Mr Wodehouse, favoured "Bertie". The editor's friend Pop (who has been appointed as the little chap's official uncle) was adamant that "Bertie" would not do.

Pop's own suggestions ("Adolf"; "Sporran"; "Jock"; "Stanley"; and a word which, when combined with Caspar, would produce a result rather similar to Castor and Pollux) were dismissed out of hand. Particularly the last one.

The editor, who is fond of Tim Burton's moving picture, "The Nightmare Before Christmas", argued strongly for "Sandy Claws", deeming it to be both amusing and apposite.


However, Lady Bracknell is nothing if not mistress of her own household, and "Bertie" has won the day. So, pray welcome Master Bertram Bracknell to the blogosphere. (He is currently a little reluctant to pose for photographs, and the camera which forms a useful adjunct to the editor's mobile phone provides poor colour reproduction under low lighting conditions. Bertie is assuredly not yellow. It is to be hoped that future photographs will render his true coat colour with rather more accuracy.)


Reader's who find themselves beguiled by Bertie's dear little face may be interested to hear that one of his red brothers is still available and is, as Becca can independently confirm, a very personable little chap indeed.





On another note entirely, Lady Bracknell is touched by the compliments paid to her on this thread on the Ouch messageboard. She regrets, however, that the editor has mislaid the password which would enable her to append her thanks for the kind words directly to the thread itself.





*The title of this blog entry is drawn from a typing error made by the Mighty Mr C in a text message to the editor when she was on her way to an interview. It is believed that it was Mr C's intention to assure the editor that she was "the best". After giving the subject due consideration, the editor decided that she much prefers being "the bert".