Friday, September 11, 2020

A Clowder of Cats

It was a lovely morning.

I headed to the bakery at 8am and tried to get a loaf of yesterday’s spelt bread for half price. When she had none, I asked for yesterday’s whole meal, but she had none of that either. So, I got a fresh loaf of spelt bread.

I was going to toast it and top it with smoked salmon, but the bread is so nice when it is still warm from the oven that we had smoked salmon on fresh bread with butter and some coffee.

I had trouble getting the smoked salmon from its packet it was so oily and the plastic packet’s open was quite narrow, that by the time I was finished I had salmon oil on my fingers.

The problem was that most of the way through the salmon preparation I suddenly needed to go and take a dump, I was just hanging on and the recalcitrant salmon packaging certainly wasn’t helping. So, by the time I was done, I was quite in need. I threw down the packet and started making my way to the toilet, remembering that I hadn’t washed my hands as I went. I hesitated. Oh, fuck it, I’ll wash my hands when I come back from the loo ready to eat my breakfast, which, of course, I did.

Straight after breakfast I headed out and watered some pot plants, and the strangest thing happened, I had a clowder of local cats following me around the garden sniffing the air.


Ha ha. Sooty and Snowball and Tiger and Zazzy. Titus and Sylvester and Marmalade and Jinx. Grumpy Cat and Mr Bigglesworth and ColeStar and T.C.

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