Catting about

After just about surviving riding about with Conn on the speed frenzied slopes of Grand Montet, it was time to mimic some work + wrack up to the bosses [not so] humble abode + play babysitter for the night. I was all up for making some art with the delightful kiddies, or at least induce a made-up bedtime story about orange coloured snow, or put on a sleep convincing carnival-pantomime to earn my worth for the evening- but to my disappointment they were already snoring their dreaming faces off. I thought it would be a good opportunity to catch up on about a hundred days of shockingly shite Blipping, but then I heard the alarmingly promising, not so familiar sounds of a purrrrrrring pussycat. And it was! A real life cat to cuddle all night! Just me and him, he + I. Alfie is his name, and he had the biggest cheeks I've ever seen. If Si Si is reading this, I know what you're thinking; "yeah right, like why-aye- like a cat would ever cuddle you!"- well for the first real time, I promise you, this one did! I felt slightly perverse waiting until Alfie rested his teary eyes for much needed post over-cuddled kip to start papping him, and wondered what my bosses would say if they walked in on me assembling myself in unusual positions in order to capture dear Alfie at his bestest. But I found myself with a reasonable stretch of kittie photo hitting time to then regain a responsible half normal stance to welcome back the bosses from their night on the frosty tiles.

I was only going to join the lads for a swift demi upon my return, but somehow it evolved into a fandango of flounging about until 8am; disco dancing in our living room + inviting half the village back [which incidentally, you can count on one hand] to welcome the new blinding morning light to hit the tips of Aguille de Midi.