MasterB likes to go out onto the step at the rear of das Boot and check out any action at the marina. He raises his nose over the parapet, and safety in the rear cabin is just a jump away.
Quite a lot of his time is spent asleep under my pillows, but he does feel the need to get up and be active periodically.
He woke me from a profound sleep last night with insistent low level mewing. Reluctantly I surfaced and registered the smell that told me he had used the litter tray for solids. There is something about bagging up used cat litter at two in the morning which is injurious to further sleep, so I tossed and turned for two hours while the skies turned from deep navy to dawn light, when thankfully I nodded off again, MasterB on my feet. Maybe that’s why I am so tired tonight but once I have posted this, I’m going to prepare for bed and have an early night.
Tomorrow I’ll catch up with Celia when we join a group of fellow culture seekers on a charabanc outing to Essex. I ma hoping she has seen this interview with Michael Heseltine, grandee of the Tory party who famously listed his ambitions on the back of an enveope when he was still an undergraduate. The two top ambitions were to be his party’s leader and to be Prime Minister, but after waving the mace around intemperately after the Westland affair, those ambitions were fairly scuppered.
If he weren’t now 83 years old, I’d say his moment had come. He is scathing about Brexit, scathing about Boris Johnson, scathing about the current vacuum in leadership in my country. He doesn’t mince his words, and I have never liked him half so much before.