Hello again. I'm back with my special mug of afternoon tea and, as it's Saturday, I allow myself a buttery shortbread. Tee hee!
We were about to take our daily exercise earlier today but refrained when it rained.
The sea is gunmetal grey, as is the sky, and the islands are nowhere to be seen.
Yesterday, we called in to have yet another chat with the long suffering vet. I swear that the moment we enter the door, the staff give each other a "knowing look". Anyways, we never have to remind them who the animal in question is. First words are usually..."how's Rory?"
MacSporran wished to know whether or not Rory may have a little tinned food added to his long standing, somewhat boring, special biscuit diet. The nice young vet went to a great deal of trouble to make a case for a little of what Rory fancies is permissible...it is the amount that needs careful monitoring. MacS was asked, is Rory friendly. When told that he [Rory] spends all night asleep on MacS's lap (MacS sleeps in a reclining chair because it is the most comfortable position for him) the vet spluttered his coffee all over his desktop. What's funny?, MacS asked...you are, was the response. That cat is supposed to be "unapproachable". Ah yes, we reply, we remember those days well. At which point MacS rolls up his trouser leg and points at a certain ugly set of scars. 
Well, it is almost time to leave the computer and read the newspaper. One hour to go until I enjoy a delicious G&T. Rory is already sitting as close as he can to the cooker. Chicken is roasting. He sits ram-rod straight. He's not budging until the time is right and his dish is looking a whole lot more tempting than it does at the moment.
Night night to my lovely Granspals. I hope that you enjoy a peaceful evening. 