At last. Finally I can get down to writing a post after a hard morning arsing around and baking a vegan pumpkin pie. I have not made a vegan pumpkin pie before. It involves tofu, of course, and I didn’t measure the spices, just threw them in till the mixture tasted right and looked (as I seem to recall the normal sort does) like baby poo. Cue rude remarks from my brothers and father . . . oh wait, they’re not here! Another thing to be thankful for. It never occurs to Sir John to make rude remarks about my cooking, and even more marvelous, this is because of his own innate maturity and good manners, not because I have ever had to tell him to eat it or else wear it whilst taking me out to eat. Not that that ever had any effect on my brothers. One of them is the cook in his house. The other is on his third marriage. Coincidence? You decide.
Anyway! I like prime numbers. They are interesting. They are definite. You can say “oh, ten or twelve” and mean “I don’t know, nine? Thirteen? In all the excitement I kind of lost track.” But if you say “eleven,” then you mean eleven.
Today is a prime number of years since I met Sir John, for which meeting I am indescribably grateful. The people who introduced us thought we were a perfect match because we both had cats. I rather thought there needed to be more in common than that. Fortunately, there was, and is, and yet the devotion to feline overlords does appear to be a very significant shared interest. Coming soon: another post by Basement Cat, to illustrate this point.