Mark — don’t look!
Whoops! Too late.
I wonder whether my telly feels like it’s missing out because we don’t watch trashy programmes at all?
Our cats don’t seem to suffer with the dreaded hairballs, or at least they don’t suffer with them in the house.
This one got a genuine belly laugh out of me.
That’s our cat, Sophie, to a tee.
Hey, did you know you can visit the web sites I link to by clicking the image, or the little link underneath? It’s really handy because it saves me a lot of complicated link editing here in the text.
(Yeah, I’m that lazy!)
My dad was such a noisy riser that, a few years ago, I wrote a song about it because it was a ritual that was stamped on to my soul. As a child, I’d hear his buzzsaw snoring suddenly stop as though it had run into a wall. I’d hear him sigh hugely and yawn operatically. He’d say, “I’m just getting up!” – and then he’d get up.