Back on the fags and unleaded coffee, and wide awake. Lucien is prowling about - he doesn't settle when I'm awake, whereas Arthur and Daisy just do their own thing. The cats are an enormous part of my life - I know there's something else alive in the house. I've had 8 cats in 20 years, Hattie being the longest lived at age 19. The others met their ends in various ways, much to my distress. Pets wind themselves around your heart and it's terribly difficult when they depart this life. Daisy is the reincarnation of Hattie - she likes human food, isn't cuddly but loves being stroked, and isn't very vocal. Daisy will have the food off my plate if I'm not on guard - she particularly likes chicken and ham, but will also eat cake.
I think I'll make myself some toast with Bovril and come back to this in a minute.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?