'Tis the season for indoor cats. Suddenly the prospect of long mornings outside aren't proving attractive and Mum's lap (especially if there is a wheat pack on it) is considered the best place to be. Gypsy is proving to be particularly loving at this time of year. I am not fooled- I know she has selfish motives. The most disconcerting part of winter is to go to bed with two or maybe three cats with you, only to turn over in the night and find my face tickled with long black fur as Kit (No 4) has decided to take up residence on my pillow. Thursday morning we had a -5oC frost. It's been a while since I have felt so bone achingly cold. Gypsy practically lived on my lap all day.
The firewood situation has been dire but luckily the cold temperatures didn't hit until this week by which time I had earned enough to buy some. My friend Rose and her husband collected a small truckload of apple wood from Te Papa orchard for me yesterday.
And I have rats apparently. There are holes all over the place so time to get some poison. Yes I have cats who don't catch rats. They're above that sort of thing. Why spend freezing nights outside when you can cuddle up on an electric blanket and play push the human off the bed. No competition really.
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