The Ditsy Chronicles

Cleo Twyford is dodging minor disasters, indulging in
chick chat and wielding random insignificant theories.
(And talking about herself in third person)

 
We know who you are Mr Darcy's owner
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
I just went for a walk down the street and a black and white cat stuck his head through a fence for a pat. Then I noticed the tag on his collar, which said his name was 'Mr Darcy'.
Now this name says much much more about his owner than it does about the cat. (I realise that because I know this, it means I have to come out as a closet hopeless romantic and avid Jane Austen novel reader. Did I just say that out loud?)
I've never met the owner, but I already know she is a she, she is over 30 and she is more than a little bit disillusioned about men - to the point where she has given up on them and is now more attached to her cat than she ever could be to any man. Well who wouldn't be? Mr Darcy is handsome, loving, and waits impatiently at the garden gate for her to come home every day.
posted by Cleo Twyford @ 10:28 AM    
1 Comments:
  • At 10:40 AM, Cleo Twyford said…

    Now that girl's aunt has something to worry about - not my aunt (who thinks I'm obsessed with cats). Even though I've mentioned cats two posts in a row. Grin

     
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This blog is blathered by a 30-something constant bridesmaid sometimes known as:
Cleo Twyford
Who trips over a lot in:
Melbourne, Victoria, AU

About Me:
Confession: I am really bad at reverse parking Confession 2: I have an inner Evil Bridesmaid Confession 3: I have mastered fridge-grazing as a meal option Confession 4: There is a committee in my head and sometimes they are loud. Yes, okay you can shut up now. I said shut up. Sorry about that.
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"It's Bridget Jones meets Indiana Jones"



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