Yes, it’s playtime… at least that’s what Cloro thinks. My house resembles a kitty-nursery, toys everywhere. Plastic bottle cap, a screwed up foil top from a beer can, a screwed up pizza brochure, a coin, a toothbrush used as a ‘puter duster, a cigarette packet retrieved from the rubbish, a clothes peg (that I stood on and heard crack – I thought, “OMG, I’ve broken his little leg!”).

Last night he sat on my leg (warm place on a cold night) watching the football and I found myself explaining the game to him, “yes, game for silly men to kick their balls around”. It was at that point I stopped talking and watched the game.

He’s just discovered, during one of frequent romps, that if you run and land in the polystyrene tray I use for his meat, it shoots across the floor like a sled.

I am steampunk Virgo

I am steampunk Virgo

Today is birthday. Mine. So I am writing this post first or the chances are, it won’t get written later.

I am feeling, generally, better this morning. I feel such a fraud at the prospect of having my birthday BBQ after three straight days of cancelling lessons; almost like I was throwing a sickie.

6am and the meat was out of the freezer. I have so much to do, change the kitty litter  (dirt), wash poopified towel, blanket and tracksuit pants from the days before Cloro figured out what the pizza box top was for. Then I have a trip to the supermarket, need more 0.0% beer and some other stuff. Have to make a coleslaw, I am going to make some carpaccio rolls (blue cheese, capers and olive oil). I already have pickled cabbage, onions and beetroot in the fridge. Wine, I must put some wine in the fridge… There, fresh coffee and I have fridged bottles of  Australian, New Zealand, Chilean, and Portuguese wines.

I got interviewed. If you want to check that out… Do so here Nothing startling, just some thoughts on life.

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