Barred from the bedroom late on Sunday evening.
Not me - and not Anna, either.
But the bloody kittens.
Monday
My walk in wardrobe has become a play pen for them.
That’s all very well, dears, but my collection of Saville Row whistles and cravats can do without a couple of over-excited kittens climbing up them.
OUT.
There was a look of sorrow on their faces first thing on Monday morning. And so I opened up the bedroom door, and yep - my recent waistcoat purchase became a scratch pole.
ffs.
I escaped for a bicycle ride and a swim.
The collision of an Indian late, late summer with the onset of autumn is most spectacular.
It should take 20 minutes max to make it the pool. Recent days has seen this timeframe doubled. I simply stop each time the ever changing Colne Valley opens up a new sun-kissed vista.
My Nu Rural hippie ideals were soon slashed when some f-er cut me up whilst climbing Whitehall Road.
Woh.
That was bloody close, fella.
My energy levels were incredibly low for the swim. I thought of just sweating out all of the car cutting up frustration in the spa, and forgetting about the swim.
But I forced myself into the tepid water, and put in a routine 40 lengths.
The aqua-aerobic ladies were to my left, and a rather powerful kicking porker of a bloke was breast stroking to the right of me.
I had to weave around the OAP elbows, and the lardy leg kicks.
Bring on a week of lovely lido swims starting on Thursday…
Work for Monday was a little confusing with a few personnel changes. Anna blagged the desk from the Raj / Colchester, and I was relegated to wherever I could find a kitten free space.
Wherever I lay my hat, etc.
I bought some tickets for Lazarus at the KX Theatre at the weekend. Having been reassured by @RobertElms that it is most definitely not a Mama Mia musical for Bowie boys and girls, I’m rather excited about Saturday afternoon.
Work, work, work.
Late afternoon saw the SEXY proposition of filing the Confirmation Statement for a company that I have a nominal role in.
It should have been straight forward, but I was very much out of my depth.
We caught up with the Test Match highlights that we missed over the weekend, and then pretty much hit the post autumn clocks changing state of complete knackered-ness.
Bed.
Those bloody kittens best stay clear of my box fresh Fred Perry’s.