There are distinct signs of a change in the season – Teddy no longer hurtles into the bedroom at the first morning opportunity and when he arrives he no longer burrows under the duvet but sleeps on top of the bed.
At times Ted even asks to be let in to the conservatory. He feels it…. There are daffs and snowdrops a-plenty, if only on Blipfoto, Facebook and Flickr. They show it… As for me, I have shed my thermal vest and my cardigan and am down to just one lambswool sweater. There has even been housework activity not un-akin to Spr*ng Cl**n*ng. I seem to sense it…
…and yet, have you seen the bloody forecast?
I attempted a photo of Treacle to evidence his continued improvement. Unfortunately he is sat on top of Mr L’s Bass Woofer, which is beneath his desk and it’s hard to capture a black cat in the dark.
Somehow, I managed to capture his… essence
I hope Treacle continues to improve. It turns out that his violently pink medicine is a little tricky to administer. Yesterday I squeezed the bulb on the dropper and the whole contraption flew apart, leaving me and the butter dish covered in pink gloop and the cat entirely unscathed. “Palatable” it says on the bottle. Tell that to a cat moving backwards at ninety miles an hour. It will be challenging, attempting to get his full dose down him.
There has been talk today of toads in holes. I have unearthed some Smokey Bacon Sossidges from the bowels of the freezer and it looks as though we are good to go. Mashed potatoes, yum. Gravy, bliss. I cannot recall the last time that we had a “Gravy dinner”.
I failed to wind the 800 g of purple yarn yesterday, I’ll have another attempt today if I can fit it in. We are going to light a fire in the big room and I shall go and spin to Mr L’s guitar accompaniment.
Right – where did I leave that thermal vest and can somebody please retrieve my cardi from the washer?