Day 190: I Wish They Would Shut Up

I wake in my pit at 8am following a night punctuated by noisy felines, alarm clocks going off for no apparent reason, emails from the Colonies half-read and replied to in the early hours, and strange dreams containing a Pathologist and a serviced apartment in Paris with a very slow lift.

I am thick-headed. My legs ache and when I swallow, it hurts. It is raining, and the post brings nothing but bills from dentists, copies of tax returns and letters from Norwich Union containing approximately £2,500 less than they were supposed to contain.

And now they are digging up the road with one of those tools that requires ear protectors for its operator. They are doing it outside my house, and will be doing it all day. I would like them to stop, otherwise I fear I may weep.

Still, at least the cat has stopped snoring, reminding me that I must once again put out an appeal:

1. Does anyone (in the UK) want to adopt this cat?
2. If not, does anyone know the best way of getting a cat adopted?

He is old, fat and needs company. (Like me.) He's alright when he has company, but because I go away quite a lot I think he's going a Bit Mad. He is low-maintenance but makes a racket if he's been left on his own too long. Free to nicest person.

I have tried to take a photograph of him looking sweet, but the best I can do is this:


You will note that even in a photograph that is supposed to make him look sweet, he looks like a fat, mad, slightly malevolent bat.










On a more positive note, his name is Monster and he is usually asleep. Unless you are, in which case he will make an infernal racket, meaning you will not sleep much and will wake the next morning in a foul mood, hoping beyond hope that someone will adopt him.