Killer

This lovely beast has just brought in a mouse and eaten it, leaving the bits that he always leaves behind (he's not keen on kidneys and the tail). He was docile this morning, but when I arrived home from work, he thundered down the garden to greet me with a massive miaow. It's like he's eaten a whole bag of hyperactive ingredients this evening – yowling at me, leaping from the tall fence over the passageway to the flat roof and yowling at the neighbours. We had an epic game of string, then he kept coming indoors to yowl and now he's caught and eaten a mouse. There was no point taking it away from him (he does a vicious growl if I try and do that). Now he's off out again. It might be a night for earplugs.

The day away from the cat was peaceful and full of chat, catching up with colleagues about their weekends (two had moved, it being the end of the month and six-month contracts) and others had melted in the Saturday sun. We had a picnic at lunch with a friend who's not currently working with us but hopes to have her contract renewed soon. We have all our paws crossed.

My hollyhock has just started to flower – it's been promising to do that for ages and now the time has come. The borage is in flower, too. I'm proud of both because these are plants that have survived being grown from seed. That's no mean feat in my mollusc-infested garden that is continually dug up by squirrels and foxes. I found a planted-by-squirrel monkey nut that's started to sprout. I'm leaving it in there to see if it actually grows into a plant.