This morning Pip set out before breakfast with his water pistol. Apparently Jimmy (the female cat who I am convinced is a witch) was trespassing, so Pip gave him a squirt and he/she went off, hissing curses. (Believe me - you meet Jimmy, that's what she does.) Pip disappeared afterward breakfast, as well, and returned still clutching the water pistol, explaining that he just wanted to make sure Jimmy was off the premises. I looked at our indolent son, lying fatly on the dresser, not moving save the odd twitch of a whisker. ‘Ever been had?’
I was still laughing over this as we walked Mollie round the castle before work. We are fortunate in having a mediaeval castle with moat and a large grassy area where a lot of us dog walkers go as it's safe to let the dogs off and have a good run. I told Pip that a friend of mine had volunteered to do my make up one day and give me a makeover. She'd also decided that straightening my (very curly) hair would be good for a laugh. Particularly to see Pip's face. he didn't laugh when I told him this, but strode forth, breathing heavily before he eventually spoke. 'Anyone who touches your curls is dead.'
There are some things you don't argue with.
I'd just got home and was in the middle of our Friday morning writing meeting when Chris from the top flat appeared to warn me that he was having a sofa delivered and he might have to remove his front door and/or the glass in the porch to get it into the flat. I told Pip when he got back from the workshop and he trotted upstairs to see Chris and volunteered to help. By about 1.30 Chris was struggling to remove the window so Pip went up with his toolbox. They were joined by Chris's brother, then Joe from the middle flat was hanging out his washing and said he’d help. It brought to mind ‘how many Irishmen does it take to change a lightbulb,’ but as Joe’s Irish I thought I’d better keep my mouth shut.
On that note, I really had better get on with some work.