An unwelcome visit from Mr Mouse at 2am on Tuesday morning.

Bloody mad cat.

She awoke me with her banging around. Anna slept right through it.

I knew straight away that this meant that poor Mr Mouse was probably being petrified by the mad cat.

I tried to ignore the situation for a couple of minutes, but couldn't get back to sleep.

Bugger.

NAUGHTY mad cat.

Mr Mouse was hugging the corners of the room, whilst the mad cat tried to tease him.

All she wanted to do was to play with her new friend.

Bless.

But I wanted to get back to bed.

I tried and failed to catch Mr Mouse to liberate him. The last time this happened we found a poor little fella rigid in a box of statched away After Eights a couple of months later.

Death by chocolate, etc.

I lost interest early on Tuesday morning and turned in again.

There was no sight or sound from Mr Mouse some four hours later. The mad cat was out for the count.

It all meant that my morning ride and swim were lethargic.

The stench of raw sewage coming out of the Hythe was repulsive.

The water in the pool was a little better, but I couldn't concentrate thanks to the polyester costume of the lady in the lane next to me.

MY EYES, Madam.

I had a random work shift, and then a quick turnaround for a trip to the dentist.

OUCH, etc.

An old filling needed patching up.

It was actually rather pleasant, as far as trips to the dentist can be described as such.

I gave the MTB a good LUBE of the chain, and then settled down for the remainder of the working day.

I resisted the temptation of the ODI cricket.

A welcome commission came in mid-morning - 500 words for Lonondist on Lambeth's current estate regeneration policy.

I could write 5,000 to be honest.

Early evening saw the return of Mr Mouse.

Oh Lordy.

I was working in silence at the desk from the Raj / Colchester. Out of the corner of my eye I caught a dart from one end of the room to the other.

OH HAI MR MOUSE.

The mad cat was still asleep upstairs, tired and emotional after a night of hunting.

It was as easy as opening the back door for Mr Mouse. He had the decency to disappear without any encouragement.

Go on. Do one. F-off. And don't come back tonight.

Bed...


Last built: Sun, Jan 31, 2016 at 3:07 AM

By Jason A.Cobb, Tuesday, November 17, 2015 at 4:30 PM. We don't need no stinkin rock stars.