Jimmy....Mother's cat....is the only mog who is allowed out.
He is an old, wiley thing who has walked many a street prior to 'adopting' Mother. Spends half his life sleeping on one of the shed roofs and the other eating, pooing, peeing up my hall wall and......catching birds. He's a naughty old Jimmy!!
So, lets him out yesterday for his oblutions......one less litter to clean:o) He appears an hour later. Sits at the garden room door, waiting for his servant (me) to let him in. I am alerted to his presence by all the miaowing, of differing volumes, eminating from the cat pen where the Usual Suspects hang out....looking down the garden...in safety:o)
There he is, our Jimbob, dead bird in mouth, with the "Go on then!! Open the bloody door so I can devour this little treat and bring in all the parasites that come with it into the house and infect the underling Usual Suspects!"
"Not on your bloody Nelly, mate!!", thinks me. I somehow manage to pass this thought on to HRH, telepathically.
So, off he huffily trots...giving me the "You bastard" look.
"Right back atcha, matey boy" says me. "When you reappear, it's bathtime, Pal. With intesecticidal shampoo. Followed with a shot of worm tableting. Lovely!" lol
I have a pair of heavy duty gardening gloves suited to this task (a la avoiding the claws) plus super, dooper goggles. No soap in my eyes!! Been there, got the t-shirt...voice of experience and all that:o)
Home ed front. Junior is trying to perfect the art of tracing. From memory, it seemed a lot easier in my day and Blue Peter nowadays doesn't seem to be into all that sort of stuff. I miss SmArt!!! Maybe the materials way back then were more suitable for the task. (you get what you pay for!). Anyway, she has toiled.....and will toil for a while, I suspect. lol
We are going to attempt to make paper tomorrow. I suspect this means that my blender may have to be sacrificed, but it's on the way out, anyway!