Top of the morning to you, London Walkers. Wherever you are.
London Calling. London Walks connecting. This is London. This is London Walks. Streets ahead. Story time. History time.
And today, whiskers.
We’re in the company of Ann. Former BBC radio journalist. Top-flight London Walks guide. And a woman whose eye for the absurd is every bit as sharp as a cat’s claws.
Ann does a walk called Cat Tails. A Feline Take on London History. The niche walk of niche walks.
And if you’re wondering whether you’d enjoy going on a walk with her, well, here’s a little sample. Just under four minutes in her company. An aperitif.
Listen to the opening. That beautifully straight face. You can almost hear it.
I’ll be back afterwards with our Word of the Day. A rather splendid word for a gathering of the creatures who seem to think we’re here to open doors for them.
Over to Ann.
“That countries with more cats have happier people won’t come as a surprise to anyone listening to this podcast. Other possible reasons, more prosperous households with better living conditions are happier and also can afford to have a pet are clearly irrelevant. The UK has some 13 million cats, one for every five of us. Montenegro’s top for cat ownership with about 32 cats for every 100 people. I’m grateful to cat research for many of the items I like to feature here. This particular study looked at happiness, wealth and cat ownership in 93 countries. The numbers don’t exactly tally, but generally speaking, more cats equals more happiness. So no surprises there. With all this talk of elections, I was delighted to learn of Stubbs, the cat, who became mayor of the town of Talkeetna, Alaska in the last century. Stubbs because he didn’t have a tail. A fine looking ginger, he spent a lot of time at the general store and frequented the pub, where he was served his favourite cocktail, water laced with catmint, served in a wine glass. As you may guess, he became a mega tourist attraction during his 19 years in office. And when is a drug mule, not a mule? When the feline felon, as the report puts it, is a cat. There are reports from Russia that a cat has been listed as a gang member and was carrying drugs into jail in a specially designed collar.
“Unfortunately, it was spotted, or rather sniffed, by a couple of sniffer dogs. The cat was not held for questioning and no criminal charges of pending. It was apparently released. Last year, a cat carrying heroin and 8 ounces of marijuana into a Costa Rican prison was intercepted. This reminds me of what I suspect is an apocryphal tale from the CIA in the 1960s. Though they’re the people who brought you Castro’s exploding cigar, so perhaps I’m being too cynical. A cat, acoustic kitty, was fitted with a tiny transmitter so it could move into the Russian embassy and transmit private conversations to a CIA listener on the outside. Sadly, it seems that after millions had been spent on ‘kitting’ it out, it set off for its new home and was run over, crossing the road. Halloween means pumpkins, witches and ghosts. In this country we don’t necessarily also think of cats, but for centuries no witch was complete without her cat, her familiar who was on good terms with the devil, or might actually be the devil in furry disguise. When this went badly for a witch, it wasn’t too good for the cat either. If you’re a black cat, stay home around Halloween in countries such as Spain and Italy, where you still have a sinister reputation. Here in this country, in London on October 31st, you can tour any number of cat rescue charities, or in Brighton you can go to Spooky Cat Yoga. Happy Halloween! If you like this sort of cat trivia, do come on one of my cat walks, ‘Cat Tales’, which you can find the details on the London Walks website.”
That’s Ann. And that’s what you get when the person telling the story knows exactly where to put the claws.
Now. Our Word of the Day.
Clowder.
A clowder of cats. Yes, that really is a word for a group of cats.
And its ancestry is rather wonderful. It’s a variant of an old dialect word, “clodder”, meaning a clotted mass. There’s an old verb in the family, too. “Clotter.” To huddle together.
So there you are. That warm tangle of paws and tails and ears. Where one cat ends and another begins is anybody’s guess.
A clowder.
Though I rather like the idea of applying it to Ann’s walkers. A clowder of cat enthusiasts, padding through London.
Stopping occasionally. Looking up at things the rest of us haven’t noticed.
And being very well looked after by someone who knows the territory.
Cat Tails. You’ll find it on walks.com.
Come and join the clowder.
See you tomorrow.