Facebook’s timehop has just thrown up this post from two
years ago.
I'm on the 'phone to Mrs Quilt and Thunderthighs comes
avalaunching downstairs and into the kitchen. There is a kerfuffle, sound of Fester mounting
the stairs and Thunderthighs comes into the living room with a "Where's
the tea towel?". I inform him
there's a drawful in the kitchen as he well knows. He exits and shortly thereafter heads
upstairs.
Mrs Quilt wonders what the spillage might be, I comment that
whatever it is there is also an airing cupboard full of towels on the first floor.
When I get off the 'phone and
it's all gone quiet I wander into the kitchen and enquire of Fester what was going on that he wanted a teatowel.
"It was to catch a wasp.
Well it wasn't a wasp. Thunderthighs said it was a wasp but it was a
housefly."
As I was
writing that I heard himself stumble and curse the cat for getting under his
feet in the bedroom.
Only it
wasn't the cat.
It was one
of my slippers - which do not have the power of independent movement.
Is it any
wonder I've gone grey?