Gunner Hobbs and Life on Mars

Once installed in Magura, Rob and I settled to a summery life of building and lazing. 'Building' for me consisted of long conversations with Bogdan about how big a hole he could knock in the kitchen wall for a new window without the house falling down, or raiding the Hornbach DIY shed in Brasov for more plasterboard, plumbing eccentricities and assorted fixings. Rob weighed in as builder's assistant, hole digger and concrete chipper. At Adriana's we discovered a small scrawny kitten who had natural charm and winning ways, being fearless and affectionate. I couldn't resist feeding him, which became expensive as he was inhaling food at the rate of a hundredweight a day.

Rob insisted we call him Scuzzy, but this struck me as grossly unfair as the kitten was scrupulously clean and self-contained. His green eyes reminded me of a character in the Hornblower TV series called Gunner Hobbs, and by dint of ignoring Rob, Gunner Hobbs he became. I later realised that what I thought was the promise of balls wasn't, but Hobbs she remained, even though I removed her from duty. As well as a Munro of food per day, the cat was inevitably allowed to sleep on my bed, which made her floatingly happy, her purr volume up to max. For a number of weeks I was adamant that I wouldn't accept responsibility for the cat or for any living thing, but as Hobbs insinuated herself into my life, it became impossible to resist, so in August she was plucked from the guest house and removed to her new demesne.

She took charge and took on the job of keeping an eye on the place and watching for interruptions.
While we were still in the guesthouse waiting for the house to become livable, we wiled away the long evening watching Life on Mars. Rob had never seen it, and liked the first episode so much we worked our way steadily through both series of Gene Hunt and Sam Tyler scrapping, drinking and being offensive, noble and daft.