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Alley Cat

Summer, we rarely see him. We exist as a re-fuelling station. He comes and goes, as if in a rush, to get back to whatever it was he was doing. The notable exception is, he always waits for me to come home. Usually in the street or by the front gate, yowling. Mamma’s home, all is well in his world. I hear him coming and going via the catflap, or him sliding down the corrugated roof on the conservatory, at 3am, naturally. Or the occasional sprawl over the glass topped table in the garden, catching rays.

But when the weather starts to turn, it’s a different story. Gentle hints, like climbing on switched off radiators, crying. A sudden interest in his fat, furry brother. And when he’s in for the evening, he wants attention and snuggles from us both. Big baleful eyes and pitiful cries, until he gets what he wants.

I wouldn’t change my boys for the world.

Tonight I will be truffling through fet wear for something suitable for Pedestal tomorrow. Friday I shall no doubt be “quite tired”. Saturday I am being paid to eat lunch, which I am hoping to cycle to. Sunday, I shall garden and hausfrau. Probably.

Very pleased with my 100% Paris report, I am hoping to get Amsterdam next! Free first class trips ain't to be sniffed at!


Call me Madam

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July 2019
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