Welcome home! Here’s your present.

I apologise for the lack of updates recently, which has seen my average daily visitors slump from a mind-bendingly high 16, to a gut-wrenchingly shit 4. To the twelve who left me, I offer you nothing but the two fingered salute. For those who stayed, you get the same, but blame the others for putting me in a bad mood.

(I popped up to Lancaster for a week of rest and relaxation, and feel moved to point out that my arrival back in town, and the story in the Lancaster Guardian about the recent spike in STDs, is complete coincidence)

My cat, Roxie, has been delighted to see me. She has been following me around the house, and looking for a cuddle pretty much non stop. She’s been a proper pain in the dot. At around five o’clock this morning, my bladder full from about six litres of cheap squash (I couldn’t sleep anyway, so I figured I may as well get off my tits on Kia Ora) I went to the toilet for a bit. I took my Nintendo DS with me so I could sit in peace and play ‘Lego Indiana Jones’ without disturbing the missus.

I was sat on the throne completing the Well Of Souls level when the cat tried to force herself under the door. She couldn’t fit, of course, but it was a good effort and prompted me to open the door and let her in. Which is a strange move, as I’m fairly private about my morning ablutions, and would usually scoff at letting even a cat see me shit. In fact, I even go so far as to close and lock the bathroom door even when I know I’m the only person in the house. I need to feel safe when I crap, I guess.

Roxie buzzed around the bathroom for a bit, purring, and rubbing herself up against my legs. She did what sounded like a little hiccup, which made me laugh, then vomited an enormous quantity of puke in to the pants around my ankles, which didn’t.

It’s the sort of start to the day that makes you wonder if it’s worth ever getting out of bed, isn’t it? So much so that I’m back off to bed. I can’t risk more of this sort of shit happening to me today.