No Surprises Here

As arranged, 30%, TP and I set out for the nether reaches of Droitwich this morning to "see" two Ginger Kittens. As I jot this down I wonder how many people actually go to see kittens and say "no, sorry mate, their not quite what I was looking for". I am guessing very few ...

... it does not, therefore, take a rocket scientist to work out that we went, we saw and we instantly fell for two tiny and very cute little killers. We passed whatever adoption criteria had been established, paid a deposit and will be popping over next weekend to pick them up.

For anyone who can't wait, I did manage to get one half decent snap of one of them as they careered around the room.

Hold still you little sod.

The other one is equally adorable and we now have the naming discussions to fill our evenings for a week or so.  This then becomes doubly complicated as virtually everyone in The Journal has an alias so I may also need to think up two nick-names for them pretty quickly.

The afternoon saw an abbreviated walk with T&M as the sky threatened rain and the house is messy enough without two soggy dogs to add to the chaos. We then popped over to see Bad Man Senior and took cake to ensure we were allowed through the front door. We spent a pleasant couple of hours catching up with each other's news and then liberated a few beetroot and leeks from the garden. The former will be made in to chutney and the latter will go well with Sunday Dinner.

The day closed with me sat on the sofa alongside 30%, who threw random cat names at me. This had the fortunate effect of distracting me from Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves as it is a very, very bad film that is made truly magic by Mr Rickman's performance as the Sheriff of Nottingham. I knew my heart wasn't in it when the film referred to Nottingham as a city and I baulked, knowing that it didn't obtain city status until late in the 1800's*.

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* Apparently it was awarded City Status as part of Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee celebrations in 1897.