Caterpillar Cat is a delightful and entertaining story about a stray cat and a little girl called Rose. Rose first sees Caterpillar Cat on the snowy rooftops outside her bedroom window. Caterpillar Cat is cold, lost and alone. What will Rose and her mum do to help, and how did Caterpillar Cat get her name?
Based on a true story

Caterpillar Cat Competition! 
7 years old or under
Send a scanned copy of your drawings of Caterpillar Cat to her 
(friends & family can help you do this)
email address:
The first five drawings send to that address will be sent a 
FREE, signed, paperback copy of
Caterpillar Cat's book.

Competition end date will be the 1st of June 2019

A photograph of Caterpillar Cat.

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Chapter 5

This letter had done nothing to dampen my concerns and mum was really worried.
She said to me, why the sudden mention of safety and attack, and what is it anyway with this Klaus chappy, dragging her out there and then leaving her alone day after day? As if that wasn't enough, he's now going on about a mini break to Serbia. Why would he want to take her there of all places? He's beginning to sound slightly deranged!
I showed the email to Spats. He thought Tiffs sounded rather paranoid if anything and also agreed that Klaus' idea of a fun week away exploring the borderlands was certainly rather misguided.
I would never even consider taking you to Serbia, especially when we have France practically on our doorstep. You can't beat Brittany he said. It's really no different from Cornwall. Very similar landscape. It even rains there almost as much as it does here and it's only a few hours from Plymouth. You can be on the ferry and over there in no time. We could go and stay with our friend Bob in that holiday barn he's doing up in Brignogan Plages. Once he's plumbed in the sanitation and tiled the roof it should be lovely. Great pub only a few minutes away as well, apparently. It would be the perfect opportunity for you to practice parleying your Francais.
I couldn't help thinking, yes, Spats, that's all very well, but I can't recall the last time we had a holiday anywhere, let alone somewhere that required me to search for my passport!
We did go to visit those friends of his in Yeovil last year, and admittedly, although full of junk, the spare room did have a fairly comfortable bed in it.
Do a few hours drive up the A30 count as holidaying?
Personally, I think his real motive was to procure that stuffed fox his friend said he was selling. Even in the email picture, it looked mangy. This obsession with taxidermy really is quite odd.
Some of the stuff in your shop is fairly interesting, I said, why the dead animals? I'm sure they are off-putting to those who have plucked up enough courage to venture over the threshold of the shop in the first place. What with being initially confronted by all those handwritten signs stuck to the door and dotted around the interior. Those, 'No Whistling', 'No riff-raff', 'No sponging charity collectors', 'Open 24 hours, guess which ones?', signs. The one behind the desk is the worst, 'Buy Something or Sod Off!'. You may think it's obviously a joke, I said, but I'm not so sure it is. Of course, the, 'No Dogs', sign I thoroughly approve of. What sort of person would deem it reasonable to take their over-excitable stinking old mut into a shop in the first place? Dogs don't even like shopping. Leave them at home, I say. It would never occur to me to walk into a boutique of my calibre with an animal of any kind, not even a parrot.
Apart from all that, some people do find Spats quite a disconcerting figure at first sight, if truth be told.
Anyway, according to him, this stuffed fox would be a really good purchase. Although it was missing an ear and its tail had seen better days, it did have a rare bird stuffed in its mouth, which made it very desirable to the discerning collectors of such things, apparently.
I blame his mother. Fancy encouraging such a peculiar hobby in a young child. It seems he was scraping up road kill and taking it home to stuff since the age of four.
Still, it's all these things that make my Spats so very unique. As I said to mum only the other day, relationships are a two-way street, one travels up one side, the other down the other, and you need to meet in the middle.
She just said, she wished that she and father hadn't found themselves on any kind of street, two-way or otherwise, and how different things might have been if they'd only realised earlier that they were both on the wrong street heading in different directions.
It's all rather late for that, I said, you can't dig him up and berate him now. He's not on any road anymore, he's up there looking down, cursing as he watches you enjoying the frittering away his pension.

From: Tiffany Brewer
To: Eva Pettigrew , Sherri Cummins , Sebastian Pettigrew

Subject: Tout Seul

Hi Eva, Sherri, Tams, Sebs, mum.

Last week I spent hours alone in the house without anything much to do and I'm finding it hard not having anyone to talk to other than Klaus, who seems to be working more hours than ever.
I'm also still waiting for the promised lunch invite from that Olga woman.
When I arrived I guess I figured out immediately, that to stay here in Hungary, I would have to find things to occupy my time.
So, this week I have applied to do a CELTA course in Budapest. For those of you that wonder what this is, it's a course in English as a foreign language, but the whole lesson is conducted in English from start to finish. I assumed that I would just get in on the course, I was wrong. I had to fill in a five-hour application form, wait to see if I get an interview and will then be allocated a place sometime in August. The course is a four-week residential course and would mean that I stay in Budapest for the month.
Klaus would come up at the weekends to stay with me or to bring me back to Miskolc for the weekend.
Budapest looks very interesting and I am keen to get on the course. I have been told that many universities here in Miskolc would be only too happy to employ me as an English teacher if I pass this course. So, maybe I could then get some part-time work.
At last, I can access the BBC World news and Radio 4, plus a couple of other British channels so that in the day I can catch up with what is happening at home.
I have now been out driving! The first time I went out I was pulled over by the police, quite understandably, as my driving was all over the shop! It is an offence out here not to have your driving licence and passport with you and I didn't have either of them on me. So I decided to look as stupid as possible and just ranted on in English while gesticulating my inability to understand. This is what is generally advised if the police stop you. Sure enough, they got fed up and sent me on my way. I now carry my identification everywhere. I wish Klaus had told me this.
I was also rather peeved with him because the first time he took me out for some driving experience, he insisted that we drove into Miskolc. This was too much for me and my driving was just crazy. I was all over the road! It's amazing we didn't collide with anything.
Still, Klaus did need me to go with him to Budapest airport as he was going to Stuttgart on business for a few days. He drove to the airport and I drove back as it is a straight empty motorway and I did not need to cross the city at all.
So, I'm rather proud of myself.
However, I'm missing you all dreadfully.

Tiffs xxx

From: Eva Pettigrew
To: Tiffany Brewer
Subject: Concerned from Cornwall

Dear Tiffs,

Glad you liked the parcel.
Mum's fine, though I don't think she's eating properly, it's all jam or peanut butter sandwiches from what I can see. I'll have to start cooking extra and deliver it, like meals on wheels.
Sherri and Lance have gone off to the Maldives for a fortnight leaving Fiji with Lance's mother and father. So, lucky them. I'm sure I will hear all about it when they get back and I don't doubt that Facebook will be flooded with daily pictorial updates of them enjoying themselves.
Tamara says she has now moved into the spare room to teach Darryl a lesson. I'm not sure what that lesson is and how moving into the spare room is going to teach it? Apparently, he's been even more awful than usual recently. Except for telling her to turn the bloody heating off because they're not made of money and that the Lobster Fra Diablo she served up for dinner had been disappointing, hardly a word is being exchanged between them.
Sebs and Cynthia are well, but rather annoyed as the new washing machine has already broken down. These white-goods don't last like they did in the good old days before we called them white-goods. Still, they have the guarantee and the extra five years warranty they paid for as well. Sebs told me all this in a call the other day, he says they decided to cheer themselves up with a satellite stereo speaker sound system with powered subwoofer, whatever that is.
How they afford any of this I don't know? What with Sebs relying on his freelance web design work for income and Cynthia simply writing the, 'What's On' page for the local rag. She's taken a second job working part-time at a pub in the evening. The girl has a degree in journalism for goodness sake!
Spats is rather excited at the moment as someone's entire lifelong collection of stuffed birds are coming up in the next auction.
I'm happy because now the Penswithian Packet is going to do some article about my shop. The publicity will be much appreciated. What did you think of that photo I emailed you? The one that the local paper took of me for the independent trader's feature. Honestly, I know I'm no Kate Moss, but I looked bloody awful, what with my eyes squinting in the sun and my thighs appearing far fatter than they really are! I don't know how they manage it! Everyone agreed that I looked really awful and reminded me not to care because it's only tomorrow's chip-paper. Though actually, it isn't, because you're not allowed to put chips in old newspaper any more.
Let me know how it's all going with the CELTA course. Does it start next week?
You're very brave Tiffs, going to Budapest alone and living on your own in some strange apartment block.
Take care and keep in touch, we're all here for you even if it is quite a long way away
Lots and lots of love.
Spats says hello.

Eva xxxx

From: Tiffany Brewer,
To: Eva,
Subject: Budapest and beyond!

Dear Eva,
This weekend I finally went to Hamburg in Germany with Klaus to meet his parents. Quite a contrast to Hungary! Lovely shops and caf├ęs. I was pleased to meet his mother and father, although it was rather a strain, what with them not being able to speak a word of English, and me unable to understand any German. Still, they appeared friendly and smiley.
Klaus obviously enjoys the challenge of working somewhere very different from his homeland because he confessed over the weekend that he had been offered a job with TOSH working right there, in Hamburg.
Oh, how much easier that would have been for me!
In a few days, I shall head off all alone to Budapest for my CELTA course. Budapest is much wealthier than Miskolc. I am constantly taken aback at the poverty which is everywhere. Klaus has advised me not to use a taxi when I arrive in Budapest. He said that although the Hungarians were generally lovely people the taxi drivers are very likely to rip me off. It seems that one of their scams is to set off in any old direction, adding miles to your journey and massively inflating the cost. They think all foreigners are rich and fair game. Mind you, I've had similar experiences, on occasion, in our own London cabs. Once they know you're up from the country they think your some kind of naive bumpkin. So, I shall be using the metro and trams.
I can't deny I am rather nervous about having to spend so much time in an alien city. Not sure what to expect with regards to student digs either. Klaus has been very encouraging and keeps telling me I'll be just fine.
Oh well, must get on, shirts to iron, dusting to be done. I don't bother cooking much now, as Klaus says that they do some very good meals in the firm's canteen and as it is still open after his workout at the gym, he eats there. I just rustle up something simple on toast. Not much point in going to any great effort just for myself. It is also very hot out here at the moment which seems to stifle my appetite somewhat.
Not sure when I will be able to update you next as I don't know if I can log on to the internet from my room in Budapest.
If not, will write perhaps.
Miss you,

Tiffs xxx

Chapter 6

When I relayed this news to mum she got herself worked up into a dreadful state. Budapest! She said. That's so dangerous, how will I sleep? What's got into her? It's a bloody war-zone out there for Christ sake!
Of course, she'd gone and got Budapest mixed up with Beirut.
Two weeks have gone by now and mum and I haven't had a word from Tiffs, no telephone calls, emails, a letter. What's up? Maybe she is just so busy on her course and there hasn't been time for anything else.
Mum's in a state of constant worry.
What if she is being held hostage? She said. What if there's a ransom demand on the way? You know what it's like in these poorer countries. They think the English all live in huge country mansions earning more money a week than they can earn in a year. I can't go out there to get her. What would happen to the cats? You'd have to be the go-between Eva, or Spats.
She's getting very confused. We're talking Budapest, I said, not Afghanistan.

Then a letter arrived.

Dear Mum and Eva,
Hope this letter doesn't take too long to get to you as you must be worried by the lack of recent communication. I'm back in Arnold now and the internet is down. I'm afraid that after a few weeks I abandoned the CELTA course. I gave it my best shot but I it was all really simply too strange for me.
I've been out of my comfort zone since I arrived here, but this was a whole new zone, with no perimeters whatsoever.
The apartment I was placed in was in a huge hideously ugly concrete block, most of which was derelict and unoccupied. It was quite frightening really. I was on the eighth floor and couldn't use the lift because it had broken down. Dodgy looking people loitered on the stairs, which was very unnerving and I'd feel a huge sense of relief just to make it to my spartan hovel of a room, which is all it really was.
I'm sure there were a fair amount of drugs related activities going on.
All night I could hear the banging of doors, people shouting, the odd gun-shot.
I felt so lost and alone in the city and really rather feared for my life!
The course wasn't that enjoyable either. I'd have to spend the evenings revising before enduring a fitful nights sleep listening to all the strange noises of the city. On one occasion I thought I could hear someone turning the doorknob to my room. I never failed to lock my door and after that, I would put a chair up against it.
So, it was all very surreal and not my cup of tea and biscuits at all.
Klaus didn't get around to driving to Budapest to see me until the second weekend. It seemed that TOSH had organised a squash tournament for the management and he said it would have just been too rude not to have taken part in it.
When he turned up, I told him there and then, Klaus, I said, I need to go back with you to Arnold, this course is just not for me and I've never been a city dweller. I'm just not happy here at all. I'm feeling frightened and very alone. Two weeks have felt like two long awful months.
Of course, Klaus was not pleased. He spent all evening trying to persuade me to stay on the course.
Yes, Meine Liebe, he said. They may well be dealing the crack cocaine or the heroin, that will not be of your concern. You will be earning good money as the English teacher. Think only of that.
He said that even if I went back with him to Arnold I would have to spend a great deal of time on my own as he had a great deal of work to complete and might not even be able to return home every single night.
Still, I was adamant that we left that very evening and had to weather an awkward, silent, drive back to Arnold.
Not sure I'm really cut out for life out here in Hungary after all.
Klaus has expressed his surprised by what he calls my, English display of weakness. He thinks I have shown an inability to adapt to anything new. He also said that I wasn't that good at ironing either. I don't ever remember telling him that I was. In fact, I hadn't realised that ironing his shirts was even on the cards.
What else do you have to do, he said, I am out doing all of the working, the least I am expecting when I come home is for the house to be in a tidy place and a clean shirt that is pressed with creases.
I'm certainly getting to know Klaus much better now, and I'm not sure he is quite the man I thought he was. Rather more domineering than he seemed on our first date!
Luckily I have my kindle, so I can enjoy reading and I am still making myself spend a few hours a day trying to learn the language.
I keep thinking of my little house back home. I hope the neighbours are keeping an eye on it.
Will email you as soon as I'm back online.

Love to everyone,
Tiffs xxx

Well, this letter did nothing to alleviate our ever increasing concerns regarding Tiffs happiness and welfare. Far from it, we were beside ourselves.
I must say, I said, this Klaus person is beginning to sound like a rather nasty piece of work!
Mum agreed, Yes, she said, arrogant, moody and demanding, just like your father!
Spats said he thought that Tiffs had every right to change her mind about the course and that she had, almost certainly, been living in a crack den full of gangsters and junkies.
He didn't quite see why the ironing of the shirts was such an issue.
My mother has always enjoyed it, he said, and Tiffany is hanging around the house all day with little else to do, after all.
Yes, I said, that might well be the case, but that's hardly what she signed up for when she set out for a whole new life of adventure, is it? An end to the loneliness and predictability of her life in Melbury Bubb, that's what she had hoped for. Weekend breaks visiting exotic new places, shopping trips to Hamburg, enjoying a sociable environment. There was no mention, at the outset, that he would either be working practically twenty-four-seven and then spending the rest of his time hanging around in the gym or the TOSH canteen. I doubt very much that she would have rushed out there if this stark reality had been presented to her.

From: Tiffany Brewer,
To: Eva Pettigrew, Sherri Cummins, Tamara Smalls, Sebastian Pettigrew,

Subject: Let's Skype!

Hi dearest all,
Finally back on the internet! Also, while in Budapest I did find time to get a webcam. We can at last Skype. I'll check out the time difference and try to skype each of you accordingly in the hope that you will be online and can join me in a video chat. So, await my invite. I can't tell you how great it will be to have a live conversation and see your faces again.
Get ready and see you soon!
All my love Tiffs xxx

Then it finally came, a few days later, a video call from Tiffs.
Luckily, mum had come down to my shop to have a look at some of my new stock, so she was able to join in the conversation and see Tiffs for herself.
Neither of us were prepared for the shock of seeing Tiffs as she now looked after her months in Hungary. Thin as a stick!
Gaunt, mum said to me afterwards, she looks pale and gaunt. Anorexic even!
I had to agree. Tiffs had never been a large woman, but there had been some flesh on the bone. That girl has not been eating properly. Surely this Klaus fellow could not be oblivious to Tiffs obvious physical demise.
We did try and hide the dismay we felt at the sight of her skeletal frame.
You do look rather thin Tiffs, mum said, you seem to have lost quite a lot of weight. When did you last see a plate of food?”
Tiffs insisted that she was fine.
It's so hot out here, she said, you just don't feel like eating very much. I'm eating lots of salad and healthy foods though, don't you worry about that.
She wasn't fine at all. It was quite clear that she was deeply lonely and unhappy. Why not come home for a week or so? We said, take stock of things, eat something.
Tiffs said she was planning to come over for a short visit soon.
Unfortunately, for now, Klaus' stupid old jalopy of a van had broken down. It was in the garage and was going to take some time and money to mend. Tiffs said that it would be too expensive to get a taxi to the airport, and her funds were running low.
I said to Spats, something's not quite right. I can sense these things. I'm very insightful.
I also said this to my friend Jackie when I met her for lunch in Cosmos the following day.
Mind you, talk of losing weight! Jackie has always been very petite quite naturally.
Now that her obnoxious, philandering,  husband has gone off and left her, she looked like her bones might snap at any minute.
I just can't eat, she said, all I do is sit up at night, smoking and drinking and going over and over the whole hurtful situation in my mind. It's bad enough he left me for another woman, shacking up with my best friend just doubles the betrayal. I wondered why she hadn't been coming around recently, and every time I caught sight of her she seemed to disappear off down the nearest side street. Of course, I finally put two and two together and confronted Rick. He made a feeble attempt at denial and then it all came out. I just don't feel we really have that much in common if truth be told, he said. Also, Tanya says I'm smart and clever and she loves Eric Clapton as much as I do.
What! I said to Jackie, they've got some weird threesome type thing going on?
No, Eva, honestly, sometimes I despair at your limited knowledge of well-known musicians. The eighties were not the only era of musical creativity. There have been other decades. It didn't all begin and end with Spandau Ballet and Adam Ant you know. Eric Clapton was one of the greats. He started out in the sixties with a group called the Yardbirds, then some other group before joining the Cream. Then came a very well documented solo career with such greats as 'Layla', 'Tears in Heaven' and all that stuff.
Admittedly, I can only recite this information off by heart because Rick never stopped banging on about it. Anyway, one good thing to come out of this is that I shall never be forced to listen to his version of, 'Tulsa Time', ever again. Personally, I don't think Eric's a patch on J.J.Cale.
What about Soft Cell and 'Tainted Love' I said. What about Erasure? That's the problem with going out with someone so much older. They're stuck in the sixties and never move on. They think they were there at the start of it all. It's better to go out with someone your own age, so you can at least have a laugh about kajagoogoo's hairstyle (Look it up).
I hate to say it, I said, but I personally always found Rick to be a tedious old fossil and a total dullard. What you or that Tanya see in him, I don't know. Blessing in disguise really if you ask me, can't see the attraction of a much older man, you've missed out on their prime years before they got leathery and pot-bellied. As for Tanya, I don't know why you thought of her as such a great friend. Devious, that's how I would describe her. Luckily you're still relatively young and beautiful, I said. Give it time, get over it and get out there, Vivre la vie!
No one ever liked him you know. Controlling and oppressive with a massively over-inflated ego, that's what Zoe said.
Jackie hardly touched her salmon and feta salad.
Luckily, I had forgone breakfast in anticipation of a large lunch, so managed to finish it off for her. The tempura prawns were excellent but I really had expected there to be more than three.
As I said to Spats afterwards. At eight pounds that makes the dish nearly three pounds a prawn. They hadn't even tried to disguise their meanness with a dollop of coleslaw and some greenery.
You know what it is, said Spats, they've gone and hired a 'Master Chef' finalist. I read it in the local rag. It's all going to be very nouveau cuisine from now on. If I was you I'd find somewhere else to lunch. I think Cosmos have made a big mistake. Us Penswithian's don't do nouveau. We like a proper plate of food. Also, where's the skill in some battered prawns and dicing up a lump of feta? You hardly need a master chef award to knock that up, and it isn't going to absorb your large glass of lunchtime Chardonnay either is it?”
I must admit, I really was feeling quite squiffy by late afternoon, so I closed the shop up early and retired for a brief siesta.
A few days later I tried video calling Tiffs again. There was no response and no reply to my email either.

To: Tiffany Brewer,From: Eva Pettigrew
Subject: Ground control to Major Tom!

Hi Tiffs,
Is anybody out there? I've tried calling you.
What news from Hungary?
Mum and I think it's time you came home for a visit. As soon as that old heap of a van is fixed book a flight back here and spend some time with your family.
Mum says that if you need money you're not to worry. She would be only too happy to help fund your escape/return. If you give me your bank details I will go with her to the bank and arrange for some money to be transferred.
One of the local galleries offered her a one-man show! I know, who would have thought! It was quite a success, she nearly sold out. The private view was something of a strain for her though. You know how she hates to mingle. Also, she hadn't really been ready for it. She didn't know what a private view was. She thought it would be a viewing just for her so that she could see what her paintings looked like once they had been hung. Imagine her surprise then, finding herself confronted with a room full of people all desperate for her individual attention.
So many questions!
What was her initial inspiration? Who was her favourite artist? Were her pictures a depiction of an inner turmoil and suppressed rage?
Mums head was spinning by the end of it. We had to go back to the house for a very stiff gin.
Anyway, the point is, she's received a cheque from the gallery and I must say it's a surprisingly large sum. I'm tempted to knock up a few canvases myself in a similar vein. It would certainly help to supplement my limited income.
Enough of that!
Get back to me A.S.A.P.
D xxx.

Over a week went by and still no news from Hungary.
Concern was mounting in all quarters. Neither sister Tamara nor brother Sebastian had heard from Tiffs.
Although Sherri was on holiday I did text her in case she had any news. Sherri messaged back saying she had emailed Tiffs a 'Selfie' of her and Lance in a hot tub but as yet had not had any response.
Mum and I decided to hold an urgent meeting. A bottle of Vodka was placed centre table and we set about devising a plan of action.
Obviously, we couldn't just sit here and do nothing while Tiffs wasted away in some foreign land potentially dying of neglect. Something was amiss and intervention was
We looked at various options and then invited Spats around for his input. By the time we had cracked open the bottle of port, mum had been saving for Christmas, a plan was beginning to form.
Basically, Spats and I were going to have to go out there on a rescue mission.
Mum would fund it from her recent gallery windfall as Spats and I simply didn't have the means for what could mount up to quite considerable costs.
I absolutely refuse to fly under any circumstances. (Let's face it, no one in their right mind would board a giant metal bullet crammed with potentially suicidal strangers and let themselves be catapulted halfway across Europe at gravity-defying speed).
No, after a visit to google maps we knew what we were going to have to do.
We would drive up to Dover, board the ferry and travel down through France, on into northern Italy, through Austria and then cross into Hungary. The only question was, would my little 1957 Austin A35 make it? Spats felt sure it would, insisting that there was nothing that could go wrong with any vintage car that he couldn't fix. He certainly did seem to enjoy pulling them apart and never stopped reminding me that at only seventeen he had worked as an apprenticeship with British Leyland.
Mum expressed doubts but Spats reassured her.
It has a very basic engine, Mrs Pettigrew, he said. So very little can go wrong with it.
We couldn't quite calculate how long it might take to get to Hungary.
Tallulah (as I have named my Austin A35), really was the only option as our main means of transport. Spats was without wheels at that moment as his old Daimler was still parked in his mother's field awaiting repair, and the Cambridge Estate was in urgent need of welding.
After a day of careful reflection and unexpected headaches on all our parts, we began preparation for the trip. We weren't sure what to expect weather wise. This was quite a hindrance when it came to deciding what to pack., I had to explain to Spats that he really was going to have to choose an absolute maximum of no more than five suits, hats and shoes. Of course, he was initially rather grumpy at this restriction, until I pointed out that if we left some room in the boot we could use that space for duty-free on the way back. Seeing the logic of this argument, and after much deliberation, selections were made.
I must say, it was all rather exciting. This was certainly going to be the biggest adventure I had ever been on. There were, of course, a few anxieties. Communication being one. Finally, all those years of listening to French audio tapes in the early hours of the morning when I couldn't sleep were going to pay off. However, this would not be of any use to us once we crossed over into Italy, Austria and Hungary. Though I am always amazed by how much you can communicate with the simple use of gesticulation and finger-pointing.
Spats rather daunting height and proportions were a big plus too. He didn't look like the sort of chap you would want to mess with. More like someone high up in the Italian Mafia Especially when he teamed his pinstripe suits with those rather intimidating dark glasses. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? I wasn't entirely sure.
So, with preparations made and passports in hand, we set off in the direction of Devon. Mum wished us luck and I informed her that I had my mobile with me so we could keep updated.


 So, you want front page news coverage?
Then you need to put on a show.
In this case, a fashion show.
With much to organise and excitement mounting, we follow Eva, the owner of a small town boutique, through the highs (and a fair amount of lows), as she works her way from booking the venue, right through to the final performance.
It's a comedy of errors.
So will it be all right on the night?
What do the papers say when the stardust settles?
Read all about it!
Link to Press Attention:Click Here 


Here we have the all-new greatest old movies of all time page.
If you would like to recommend your own then why not share it with me on twitter

I have been trying to track this film down for years and there isn't anyone else that I have met that has seen it. Finally, I find a link. This is a wonderful, rare, touhing film and one of my favourites of all time!


Jane Eyre 1943 Trailer

Without doubt, the very best ever Jane Eyre film of all time. This is an absolutely gripping version of this great story. Orson Welles is brilliant as Mr Rochester and Joan Fontaine well cast as Jane. The young actors in the film are also excellent. It's wonderfully dark and atmospheric throughout. No other attempt to turn this story into a film can touch this.

Ace in the hole starring Kirk Douglas is an unmissably brilliant film. Kirk Douglas is superb in this chilling dark and utterly gripping story. 
Above is a link to a recording on Youtube ... though I highly recommend downloading or buying on DVD a full screen good version of the film. It deserves and is worth it.

Angels With Dirty Faces 1938

All time brilliant classic staring the wonderful James Cagney.

 James Cagney interview

Found this recent interview with James Cagney on YouTube.
Well worth watching. What a star.

To Kill A Mockingbird

Brilliant and unmissable film.