BUBBLEHEAD

I thought Freddie would enjoy me blowing a few bubbles for him as we waited and watched at our rightful station in the kitchen for dinner to cook.

I was wrong, he was out of the cat flap before I could say Dreamies.

He has now returned, very wet from the weather, has been given some Dreamies, and is now drying out on G's lap/Daily Telegraph, which is rather ruining the newsprint and the reader's pleasure.

Freddie was given (by me, unaware of their addictive qualities) a Dreamies advent calendar, and what wonderful hype and advertising that was. Because now, if he doesn't get his daily quota of Dreamies, he ain't eating that horsemeat, no sir-ee!