111 - Christmas in London. A New Blanket Has Appeared on the Chair. I Am Not Making Anything of It.

Christmas Day

Mid-afternoon…

A quiet one here.

Peaceful, actually, in the way that London occasionally manages when everyone has somewhere else to be.

He was up early and produced something from the kitchen that I was not expecting and will not describe in detail because I have learned that describing meals in detail leads to expectations and expectations lead to the kind of situation I try to avoid. It was good. I will leave it there.

He has done something with the chair. My chair. There is a new blanket on it -- heavy, good quality, the sort of thing that takes about four minutes to properly assess before committing. I have assessed it. I have committed. I am not going to make a thing of it.

Robert and Big Fluffy are with their family today and unavailable, which is fine. The street is very quiet. There is a pigeon on the opposite roof that has been there since this morning doing what pigeons do, which is largely nothing with great conviction. I have been watching it on and off. I have thoughts about it. I am keeping them to myself.

To the Sheffield contingent: I hope the allocation was fair. I suspect from George’s last message that it was not, or that it was fair and he has decided it wasn’t, which amounts to the same conversation.

Either way. Merry Christmas, both of you. Zzz.

George has written about this. You can find it in the Ask The Cats library on Talking Cats: Why Do Cats Sleep So Much?