Had a meeting of my real life book club (not to be confused with my lovely online blog book club) at home last night. Little Bingo was the star of the show, and a perfect host, moving graciously from lap to lap and sharing out his favours with a wisdom and discretion which was astonishing in a little bitty kitty of only 12 weeks. Meanwhile, Mme Bovary entered week four of her marathon sulk, which started the moment Bingo put a paw over the threshold. Mme Bovary has never been sociable at the best of times, and now, after a move, months of building work and finally a furry Last Straw arriving, her dudgeon is high indeed. Sigh. I’ve invested in one of those Felliway diffusers from the vet’s, which is supposed to waft calming vapours around the place, but they are having little effect on Mme B, largely as she is outside most of the time with her little pink nose in the air. I think she’ll come round eventually. I do hope so….
Meanwhile TL very kindly cooked for everyone, which was heroic – and very helpful as the girls and I didn’t get back until 7.30 after our madly cultural Wednesday, which sees assorted art, dance and music lessons crammed in higgledy-piggledy to minimise the dreary South Circular commute.
As a result of it all, we’re all a little tired today. And Bingo? He is exhausted. Bless.
