Liverpool, UK: Welcome back! But not you Kevin...

I know that everyone in the UK loves pets. I know that most people love cats.

But when you are trying to make your back yard look like The Eden Project, on a limited budget, cats can be a real problem.

This is what I want to say every day when I open the back door to check on my tiny little plants, but can't.

(I can't because our neighbours are actually really nice, and I don't want to tell them that I hate it when their cat, Kevin, poops between every flower I have planted...)

In my head though (and now on my walls), this is how the conversation would go if I did have the courage:

 

Hi neighbours, we need to talk about Kevin...

 

He keeps pooping in here...

 

Right there on my tiny, new plants...

 

See, look, aww.

 

They look so nice.

 

Oh, wait...

 

You can't see it, but I can smell it...

 

(Kevin has left us something evil to pick up)

 

I don't want to sound mean (and he probably climbs over the wall instead of using this handy cat hole anyway), but please have him use the loo at your house instead...

 

Unless he brings cakes and good conversation, he isn't welcome...

 

Ever.

 

(There wasn't a fairy cake behind that daisy)

Lark Lane, Liverpool: Honest chalking...

Today, I followed in the path of all PostSecret confession participants and decided to open up and chalk everything I was thinking, as I walked from my house to Lark Lane in Liverpool.

I figured that by writing on sugar paper, there would be no traces of my thoughts that might offend anyone later in the day, but that I might feel better for getting my feelings out into the open air.

After her fright in the house this morning, when a fat, four-legged cat called Kevin appeared in her bedroom and wouldn't leave, my Spanish housemate felt she had a lot to get off her chest too.

So off we went...

And as that fat cat came from our neighbour's house, it wasn't long before someone felt they needed to chalk something...

'Their fat cat was in my room'

And my favourite cafe, which never seems to be open when I walk past anymore, is shut again...

Maria finds a shop that always seems to catch her eye...

'I like this shop', she chalks.

'But it doesn't look clean'

We move on...

'One day we will eat pie in here'

Because they sell the award-winning Pieminster ones that everyone loves, and they sell our favourite beers and have picnic benches inside, too...

'Or not (never serving)'

We came here on fireworks night and they were too busy to cook them, and they weren't providing any on my Birthday either :(

BOO.

This is me being pie-less on fireworks night.

I look pale, right?

It's true.

Maria hears something...

'Lisa Simpson playing in Sefton Park?'

It's a boy!

Playing saxophone solos to the ducks!

...

SQUIRREL!

We agree that this is the only thing we think when we see one of these...

(That, and 'please be my pet')

***