Just chillin'

in the laundry bag! This is D, the female cat. Right now she's sleeping beside me on the sofa, but she wasn't my favourite at 1.24 this morning when she woke me with very loud vomiting sounds. Turned out she'd been copoiusly sick all over the hall, like a drunk returning from a night out at the Red Lion.

Well, there was no kebab to to clean up, but I did an excellent job of scraping and shampooing the carpet with all the tools at my disposal. Cleaning  someone else's deep pile carpet in the middle of the night is so much more demanding than the  more casual approach I'd take at home (throw all the covers in the washing machine, back to sleep).

Anyway, I've forgiven her, because she is cute.  She's obviously greedy, but is that really her fault? From now on she's on strict portion control. I've put the laundry bag away, too. Not everyone likes their clothes hairy.

I think it's still raining. I've mostly been listening to radio 3 today. I've found it's never too late to learn about music, particularly as a new study seems to suggest that neurons do grow back in the brains of the over-20s.

Meanwhile, the Heathrow planes are loud today, but not as loud as when I lived in Teddington in the 80s, or Steve in Harlesden in the 90s/noughties. I reckon the rain is here to stay. My current jigsaw doesn't appeal, so I may yet retreat to the kitchen to make chocolate chip ginger flapjacks.

Here's a haiku, inspired by a glimpse out of the conservatory door:


Sunday. Rain returns
no worm disturbs the plastic grass
still the blackbird sings