Cat arse-imal of the week

I may have mentioned once or twice before that Pog Towers is the smallest house in the world.  It has a lounge / kitchen at the front, a little bathroom in the middle and a bedroom with an ensuite back garden (don’t get me wrong, I love it.  I love the fact that I can clean it at speed even more…)

I have some odd neighbours.  One side spends the summer wandering around his back garden in his white Y fronts (I have trained myself to never glance in that direction once the sun comes out) and the other side never goes in their garden preferring instead to all go and sit in the A-team style van while it is parked in their drive way (yes, really).  As a result, I don’t tend to think about either side on the days when I work from home.

This morning on my way to hang out the washing I stopped at the foot of my bed and, in the style of slightly mad person living alone, stood looking at my bed and said:

 ‘Boys, is there any danger of you getting up at some point this morning?  I’ve done a 10 mile bike ride and a couple of hours work and neither of you have moved since last night.  Are you both really that exhausted?’

And then I went to find the washing line and spotted a mop of male hair (attached to a body I assume, although I didn’t actually see that) sitting in the garden of the A-team van side.  It wasn’t either of my neighbours as one is a girl and the other two are bald. I can only assume that my rant at the two boys in my bed scared the bloke, whoever he may be, as I watched the mop of hair creep along the fence (which would have involved him bending double as the fence is only 4 feet) before he scuttled into their back door. 

Because what he wouldn’t have known is that the boys were of course Charlie and Norman, my furballs… :o)

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