Poor little bear

Poor little bear. He is getting a lot better (though still has a very red and sore eye) and I am not up to playing with him. I feel awful.

On the other hand, I had him lying on the sofa, drifting gently off to that awful Ben 10, when the Asda delivery arrived an hour early. If it had been within the window I could have been on the look out and dashed out very quietly to stop them banging on the door and ringing the door bell. I could have cried.

He now wants to play Ben 10. I have to look him the eye and say - I have no idea where to start.

And no matter what I am suggesting for tea at the moment, darling father is having takeaways. Sigh. He is happy to pay for them, but OH is having fits about how unhealthy takeaways are.

Never mind, tomorrow is another day.

Glass half full - I managed to get a cuddle from the ginger gentleman who was hinting I WANT TO COME INSIDE AND BE FED as only a cat can hint. He is very much a he, and very much intact. However if he carries on, next door's tabby will be wearing them as earrings.