Friday night, I was looking forwards to a weekend of gardening and backpain, when the phone goes; it’s Whit Diffie, asking to stop by for a visit.

Whit’s always interesting and good company, so I hastily swap the outdoors cleanup scheduled for this weekend, for the indoors cleanup that was scheduled for this weekend, and work to render the house visitable instead.

I know better than to rely on Whit’s schedule – too many people want a part of him – but nonetheless: vacuum, dusting, air, washing-up (dishwasher? what’s one of those?) and little by little everything gets spick and span.

Suzi (one of my two cats) has proven herself to be not quite as stupid as I thought; after recovering her from her two-week walkabout in January, she seemed nervous of going outdoors, and (to my dismay) took to pooping in secluded corners of the house.

I soon installed a litter-tray – which addressed the immediate problem – but I don’t like those things.

Messy, smelly, ugh.

First it was installed in the bathroom (where she’d been pooping), and after a few weeks I moved it to the spare toilet, so that it was more out of the way. She happily moved with it, so it proved that she could be taught. Finally fed-up with the smell of poop, I hit on the surreal idea of moving the litterbox outside. This I have done, and shown her several times that it now lives outside, under a temporary awning to keep the rain off.

She’s not using it, but she’s not pooping in the house any more, so maybe we’re both happy.

Whit arrived sunday lunchtime, in plenty of time for fresh parsnip and courgette (zucchini) vegetable soup, and some rosemary&juniper bread. Eat, drink, and merrily discuss corporate strategy. A pleasant walk around my village, a mediocre stop at the new local brasserie. Whit pootled off to visit yet more cryppies, and for some reason I fell asleep at 2300 and stayed so until past 8a