All was calm, all was bright...
...when just before Christmas along came our friend A to help us clear up the garden, or rather rase it to the ground and raise a mountain of ivy and treetops to be stuffed into a tight lipped composter with a tendancy to choke...
Please note the mountain behind the Christmas tree. Why did I create the magical outdoor tree in a winter wonderland to be glimpsed from the window?
Why did R&B wake at 4.30 am?
Why did the cat shit under the curtain?
Why did R tread in it?
Here is the lovely starry window under which the cat shat. This was probably because when we stripped the garden we disturbed its sacred turd burial ground and it had to make a territorial stand on the living room floor.
The usual orgy of present opening...
Whitey, he is real you know...
Here I am with my present, a book entitled 'Sacré Caractère', which translates as 'Quite a Character'. Actually, it translates as quite a blooming difficult character.
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