In Bed Making Compatibility with Kittens News: making a bed is not compatible with kittens.
What should have been a one minute effort ended up taking more than fifteen minutes first thing on Sunday morning.
Each time that I tried to flatten the duvet, the kittens saw it as a sign that they had to lift it up once again.
It all ended with something of a sister play-fight.
NO! STOP IT, etc.
Which left me very late for the Sunday morning swim.
The cycle along the Trail was defined by another exceptionally high tide. It’s just a shame that I didn’t have time to take it all in.
I had a lane to myself at the other end of the Trail, but only time for 30 lengths.
Why so, you might ask?
Golf.
Bloody hell.
I had foolishly agreed the night before to caddy for Anna as she made her way around 18 holes. I only agreed to do this as I had some Daniel Ruiz Tizon podcasts to catch up with.
Don’t go expecting any caddy talk, luv.
A seven iron or a pitching wedge?
Pah.
Yer man Tizon has more pressing concerns with the cafe back along South Lambeth Road.
I also managed to give the new Madness album my first play through during the back end of the course.
I was transported back to 1982, walking around the 18 holes with my Dad, and then listening to Madness back in my bedroom.
There was a reassuring familiarity to the afternoon.
The golf back in 1982 fizzled out for me because of boredom. Sunday afternoon was similar.
I surprised myself lasting for the 18 holes. Anna’s clubs were bloody heavy. I worked out that if I encouraged her to lose balls, then the weight was lightened.
I added in some caddy instructions, giving directions for each water feature on the course.
FOUR!
The lovely neighbours came round early evening for some kitten time.
Is this a thing?
My default anti-social stance means that we have few visitors. But the kittens need to meet other folk as part of their socialising process. The lovely neighbours very kindly obliged.
The rest of Sunday was spent watching the final day of the London Six. It’s been a bloody brilliant meet. I make no apologies for watching live cycling on TV for the past six consecutive nights.
Chapeau!