Icon: more forays from M. de B'Argain

Shop talk with
Alain de B'Argain


Alain is exiled as the Brunette journeys to deepest Beccles and discovers more than she b'argained for about neutering cats...

AS ALAIN IS MOST definitely NFI at my brother’s Easter gatherings in Norfolk (the pair disagree on everything except 1956 Chateau Latige), I ventured out of London with my dear friend Clarissa Pargeter, with whom many readers will be familiar from her time as one of England’s top carriage-riding competitors.

The Brunette After getting in a terrible tizz on the Norwich ring-road – in her Boxster, I hasten to add, not her carriage - we found ourselves flung further east than we had hoped, in a hamlet called Beccles.

A visit to the lovely Spanish deli brought us back to earth. While I was up to my nose in squid-ink pasta and rolled salmon in champagne, Clarissa headed for the cheese section and made to purchase a pound of Stinking Bishop as a gift for Britain’s best-known, but absent, charity shop reviewer. I noticed her intentions in the nick of time and shouted that “Shrinking Bishop” would be more appropriate as Alain is currently on a diet. I was thrilled to hear a sweet old couple titter at my clever pun, but Clarissa, her senses perhaps overpowered by fumes from the fromages, missed the nuance.
"Why have your cat neutered?"
A few doors down I espied the review project of the day: the even less odour-licious-sounding Country Cat Shelter shop. Clarissa and I took deep breaths and entered. Inside (thankfully stench-free, save for the familiar second-hand aroma of ‘old stuff’), an interesting addition to the usual charity shop fare awaited us: the possibility of acquiring livestock, no less (both new and second-hand), in the form of pussies in need of good homes, available via their Cat Shelter photos. Sadly what with my allergies (wheat, dairy and most other current trends) and Alain’s fear of anything likely to mark his le Corbusier furniture, it just wasn’t tabby (to be…do you get it? Gosh, I’m getting rather good at this columnist lark if I say so myself).

British Home Stores class
Having scanned the pussy pics for pedigrees, my eyes fell upon a rather vicious-looking meat slicer, a sort of mini sawmill for the kitchen. Yikes. Not good placed just underneath a ‘Precautions for Neutering’ poster. I wondered whether we could make room in our Marc Jacobsen kitchen for such an implement (it looked so useful), then – thankfully – remembered that as a vegetarian (I only eat fish, chicken and Selfridges game pies) it would be cela excede nos besoins. Clarissa, in the meantime, was running her perfect talons over a couple of large red brandy glasses, clunking them together sonorously to test for quality. A bit 1970s British Home Stores-does-dinner parties, but they would do.

Alain is away Eager to spend, I sauntered over to the ‘Games and Entertainment’ section – if you can call a video entitled Uptide Fishing for Cod entertainment – and guess what I spotted en route? A November 2005 copy of Vogue featuring as a lingerie model Clarissa’s niece Lavinia!

Wogan's World
I was sorely tempted to purchase, Alain having given away several back copies of my collection to the cleaner in error (I distinctly said she could have all the Country Life pre-2006 – that was all) but the thought of someone else’s fingers, possibly unmanicured, having rummaged through the pages had us both recoiling. Truth be told, Clarissa was unmoved; she has not spoken to little Lavvy since a tiffette concerning the bill for her latest sojourn at The Priory.
"Once neutered, a tomcat will roam less, fight less and spraying will be eliminated"
At last, a palatable bargain appeared before me in the form of a shabby but thrilling-looking TV Times quiz game with a youthful Terry Wogan on the front. Mummy didn’t allow me to watch ITV as a child so it was with a frisson of excitement that I handed over my 70p. With Clarissa clutching her fish-bowl brandy glasses - “They look awfully like Murano to me, darling” (in fact, they were ‘recycled’ as fast as you can say BHS) - we glided towards the exit.

On the way I glanced yet more pussy pleadings, including a ‘Why have your cat neutered?’ poster (what is it with all this neutering business?) and found myself transfixed by their advice: ‘Once neutered, a tomcat will roam less, fight less and spraying will be eliminated’. Must fix up an appointment for the Shrinking Bishop.

Next time: Whitby
Country Cat Shelter: in their own words
Country Cat Shelter: in their own words
The Country Cat Shelter (CCS) was formed at the end of September 1997 by a group of people living in the Norfolk/Suffolk area concerned with the welfare of local cats and kittens. Several of the founder members already had pens in their gardens. It was decided to go ahead and set up a CAT RESCUE.

As many other cat lovers had voiced an interest, a meeting took place on the 28th September 1997 and a decision to become a Registered Charity was taken. One of the founder members had already done the ground work and had a Charity Number, so it was decided to try to take it over and the wheels were set in motion. On the 19th November 1997 we received official notification that we were now a Charity.