Way-aye, Roscoe here again, racking our brains over what to do for Q in our journey from A to Z. Topics our predecessors chose were Quiet (Percy), Quiz Questions (Dylan) and Quince (Victor).  Well, I reckon quarrelling is a sight more interesting to read about than any of them.

Mam also asks us whether our Cuddle Quotient has reached ‘full’ in the mornings.  I’m not sure whether that’s even a thing, but Quotient starts with Q. She asks when I decide I’m ready to go to the kitchen, and then decide to snuggle in her arms a bit longer.

Quarrelling.  Well, Mam tells me and Nev to stop quarrelling sometimes, but really, it’s Neville’s fault because he doesnt want to do what I want him to.  We just grumble at each other, and maybe we waggle bottoms to tell each other we mean it. But Neville usually understand I’m right without any more fuss.

Bertie and Biggles are something else. They just don’t get on.  Bertie tries to quarrel with me, but I’m very patient, and usually persuade him to be sensible and see it my way.  We talk about these things through the bars, and then we really do bum-waggle to emphasise our points. Sometimes we get as far as rumblestrutting, which is the next stage after bum-waggling.

Bertie has stolen Biggles’ cucumber

Bertie and Neville

Bertie wants to talk to me

Biggles and Bertie, sperated by a fence

But Bertie and Biggles quarrel if Bertie gets half a chance. The other day Mam thought Biggles was down with us, but he wasn’t; he was up under the table at the top of the kitchen.  She put Bertie down after his cuddle on the mat up there, and Bertie went straight for Biggles. I really don’t know what Biggles does that makes Bertie so mad at him.  I think he’s a nice chap.  Very amiable.  Anyway, Mam got the tent to Biggles in time before too much harm was done.  I noticed she put him up on the weighing centre and checked him all over, though.  I reckon she spotted the bit of hair on the mat up there, that Bertie had pulled out on his first rush.

He’s a nutcase, Bertie, I reckon. Don’t pick a quarrel with him, is my advice.  He’s too ready to pick one with you.

We’ve got something Really special for you next week.  I wish I was doing it, but I’ll leave it to Bertie and think about Something Super Special for the following week.

Bye for now

Roscoe