Pussyfooting

My daughter is here from Paris, so the computer has been commandeered mainly for the purpose of watching DVDs and old stuff on 4OD.  At the moment she is snugly asleep while I wait for the overpriced gas-un-fitter to come and dislocate the gas cooker.

I'm going to have to buy an Argos Value Range electric kettle today so that I can do fake cooking over the next three weeks or have a nice cup of tea at least.

The good news is that after a bottle of wine we got the enormo-sofa out the front room window on Thursday night, with much giggling. 

We are readying Betty the cat for her departure although she does not know this.  It feels like a sad story out of Bunty for Girls.  Last night the two of us held her and tried to worm her.  She did fake swallowing and everything and then gobbed the pill out before running away.  At this rate she'll be delighted to go to Nunhead.  Oh well, she'll have to go with any worms intact.  Not that I think she has worms.  It just seemed polite to eliminate the possibility.

Bobbie doesn't know he's going either and, to be honest, neither do I.  He doesn't have a home yet.