|Yes I know, brass taps but a silver plug ... that's the kind of rebel I am|
I had a day at home flopped on the sofa making up for all the recent activity. Sorry not to have been able to make N’s christening but it sounds like a good time was had by all.
After a long sit on the sofa I summoned up the energy for a bath and Cyril, as he so often does, decided to supervise. It’s not the most soothing experience having a three-legged cat wobble about perilously on the side of the bath while you’re trying to relax in the water. On slip and he’d be in the water, instantly transformed into a mass of panicking claws. He didn’t fall in, this time, but found another way to torment me. He sat on the drawers facing the bath and did that weird staring into space as if he could see-something-spooky-that-humans-can’t-see thing that cats do sometimes. He was staring at the open bathroom door behind my head. I don’t usually let this weird cat behaviour get to me but there was no-one else in the house and he made me feel distinctly uneasy (little git). Of course, when I got out of the bath there was nothing lurking behind me and Cyril immediately stopped behaving like a portent of doom. In fact he went back to wobbling about on the side of the bath fascinated by the water going down the plug hole. I was tempted to give him a bit of a push to get my own back but I’m far too soft for that.
Then I did some more sofa sitting and dozing. Well, all that bath-time excitement took it out of me.