Sylvester is sitting looking out of the window in the back bedroom. He is assessing the situation. He doesn’t have a lot of time for rain because it curtails his surveillance activities and limits his chances of maiming and murdering small animals. I suspect the F word has meandered through his cat brain more than once this morning. Katie on the other hand has crashed out on the settee downstairs oblivious to the precipitation and I think possibly a different F word is strolling casually through her cat dreams i.e. a scaly, watery and very tasty F word.

I’m with Sylvester on this one. Rain is limiting my activities and the F word has meandered through my mind a few times. There’s no ……. chocolate in the house and I’ll get ……. wet if I go to the shop. I will have to go out at some point anyway because there is sod all for lunch. On second thoughts I am skint so I may have to rummage around in the fridge for a scrap of cheese and have it with a few dry biscuits.

The rain brings on a whole store of self-pity, in addition to making my limbs feel like lead weights. And it’s autumn rain which is dark and dismal and smells of damp and decay. There are a lot of gloomy words that begin with D like dreary, dire and, of course, death. When D was handed his list of vocabulary words to be in charge of he probably thought ‘oh great it’s all doom and despair’.

I think it’s time to lie down on the carpet and sing sad songs into the pile.

No it b….y well isn’t, its time to get the hoover out and terrorise the cats….