A litter tray mishap to wake up to on Wednesday morning.
We’re talking about the kittens, btw.
We were warned that the bowel movements may be a little ‘loose.’
Slippery when wet, etc.
Please do aim for the tray next time, luv, and not the carpet.
Being OWNED by the kittens pretty much defined Wednesday.
I escaped briefly for a bicycle ride along the Trail and a quick turnaround of a swim.
West Ham Wanker attempted to start a Sam Allardyce conversation. I feigned deafness with waterlogged ears.
A bicycle ride back to base in the BEAUTIFUL estuary wilds sun, and then I headed back out to the Hythe once again.
With kittens.
We had an appointment at the vets for their first jabs. The last time that I was here I entered with one cat and left without one 🙁
I was reminded of this when the vet called out the name Murphie in the waiting room. I felt a momentary return to the events of the summer, only to realise that Murphie was actually a brute of a bulldog being called forward.
Our turn soon came [our - ha!] and it was all pretty much routine.
The kittens were out for the count for the rest of the afternoon. I pressed on with work.
I tired the new Bragg album once again. To be honest I almost gave up on it after just one play.
It sounded flat with bloody awful production.
But I think that is all part of the plan.
Back to Basics, etc.
Yodelling is just wrong, mind.
More work, more playing with the kittens, and then some FaceTime catching up with Anna.
The Celtic match was half-decent, wasn’t it?
Football. Bloody hell.