Tuesday, 11 October 2005


Question: How do you administer First Aid to a kitten that has just plunged her front legs up to the shoulder in to your very hot tea?
Answer: You hold her under the cold tap until you reckon the danger of scalding has been mitigated.
Result: Two traumatised kitten-parents and a slightly confused and very damp kitten.
It doesn't seem to have slowed her down at all, or discouraged her curiosity; and it has had the slightly positive effect of washing off some of the black dust that has become ingrained in her pristine white paws since The Falling Of The Ceiling.

I promise I am not going to become a Kitten Bore, but she is providing me with endless amusement - she likes to ride around on ones shoulder and I did the washing up and cleaned the kitchen this morning with her supervision. However, I've had to take to wearing a polo-neck top, as she will nip when she gets excited. Love bites are all very well when you're fourteen, but there's something not right about cat love bites at thirty five. Or any age, really.

Attic Man and Side Kick Gavin are moving on apace and have re-attached the office ceiling to their joists. I believe the technical term is 'strapping', a term that I somehow have previously only associated with pirates.

B and I went up there last night and pottered around. It's going to be lovely - you can see right over the river to the Liver Buildings from the windows. We are deciding whether we want to rent it out to yet another lodger for a while and build up some cash; or whether to enquire a bit more about the possibilities of long term fostering of a teenager.

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