Wednesday 14th October 2020 Day 203

7.45   Forgot to set the alarm clock and Worry is patting at my face as she wants her breakfast.  I dutifully get straight up, put the biscuits (the only ones she will ever eat) into the bowl.  She looks at me as if I have just tried to poison her and begins to wash a paw whilst flicking her tail.

What is it about cats and their fussy ways?  I always said that no cat of mine would be allowed to be fussy but of course eventually they wear you down, so now she has these special biscuits morning and afternoon and a tiny bit of the only tinned food she will eat which has just been discontinued.

Last night I had a bowl of the hot spicy curry chicken soup I make and it was hot indeed.   I left the bowl on the kitchen table for a few minutes after I had finished and when I turned around there was Worry, sitting on the table (not allowed) fishing out the last bits of soup in the bottom of the bowl with her paw and licking it off (this being her preferred way of drinking anything)  I must confess I watched her for a few minutes in disbelief before the reprimand because I just couldn’t believe it.  Maybe that is where I have been going wrong, perhaps I will try her on chilli concarne next.

12.05  The other enigma is Audrey; I had a long video call with my niece this morning and it is now just after midday and we

are finally about to set off on our walk.  Every time I open the back door and suggest she needs to go out she lies down on the kitchen floor in blunt refusal. This means that she hasn’t relieved herself since midnight last night and has no intention of doing so until I go out into the garden with her to ‘hold her paw’ as it were, which I have no intention of doing, so now we must go as she must surely be desperate?

I am not a knitter or a sewer (that is to say a person who sews, not a stinking pit) or a crocheter. I have done knitting and sewing in the past for the children when they were very small but it was a labour of love, I am incredibly slow at it.  So, what has induced me to knit a jumper for my smallest grand son at this moment, I don’t know.  It is also, although I did not realise until I got home with the pattern and wool, an Aran sweater and I have to use a small extra cable needle and do twisty things and a lot of counting.  How on earth do people sit clickety clicking, watching tv and chatting and never miss a stitch. I seem to have come from the sloth school of knitting, slow, laborious and with my tongue sticking out in my efforts to concentrate.  I’ve done the rib at the bottom, no trouble but now I have undone the first line of pattern three or four times.  I am very determined to have it made by Christmas, although which Christmas still is unclear.