Lockdown two, day two and I’m woken to the pitiful miaows at the bedroom door of a poor little kitten.
It takes a few minutes to realise it’s Saturday and she has waited an hour longer than usual to be allowed in for her morning hugs.
Phone switched on as she lies on my chest, it quickly becomes apparent that something is up... the number of messages in the family WhatsApp group is hitting record levels.
Another mouse has got into my sister-on-law's house. The theory quickly established is that he has come looking revenge for the murder of his pal a day before. But he has been no Liam Neeson. He’s fluffed his Hollywood movie ending by the Nutella distraction which also snapped his life shorter than he’d planned.
The hunt is on for a cat.
It’s the little things that keep everything real.
I briefly toy with the idea of staying in jammies all day. That’s not going to happen.
Sadly, the goldfish who didn’t cope too well with the move into lockdown again, is still floating, but no longer gasping.
I’m writing in my best mafia accent here... he is sleeping with the fishes... except he isn’t any more.
His four friends swim around oblivious. I begin to think they didn’t really like their former tank mate too much and aren’t that concerned.
But that is enough death for one day...
In the kitchen the first steps towards Christmas are being taken. All the ingredients for Christmas cake are laid out across the table and the measuring is under way.
Another day of making food for hungry children is planned, intermittently broken up by watching football. There should be a university study on why children can never be hungry at the same time. A huge supply of groceries arrive as all three kids are at home over the weekend. It will be gone soon.
When I try to turn the TV on I find that, once again despite hundreds of warnings, the eldest boy has unplugged the Sky box and it has to be reset. Again. Apparently during the night it was the only socket available to charge his phone. I presume it was simply the closest one. Sometimes you just don’t bother complaining any more!
And there is a rumour going around that it might be time for the three Christmas trees to make an appearance, one for each child as tradition now dictates. At least the cats are going to have fun with those.