Spiky

We’re getting used to each other, however the cats where I’m housesitting continue to employ their brand of eye-clawing disdain. Living with cats reminded me of the recent Cats movie. I am familiar with the musical songs and whilst the lyrics are certainly old-fashioned and quirky, it looks like a faithful remake and I’m not sure it deserved such a critical panning. Perhaps it was too unrelatable to ever have been adapted for the big screen.

Heidi recommended I visit a local French bakery, which I did to buy a slab of what turned out to be delicious quiche. The effervescent woman behind the counter had moved from Norway with her partner and had begun work there one day before lockdown shenanigans commenced. She said she felt lucky to still have work and that the bakery is keeping up a steady trade with elderly confined customers ordering loaves directly to their doors.

It feels far too cold for late March but I’ve spent a lot of time abroad so perhaps I can’t gauge it any longer. In fact I don’t think I ever could, given my propensity to whinge about the wet and cold weather at any time of the year. This pineapple sculpture in front of the closed Fitzwilliam Museum is a nod to more tropical climes. Let’s hope I return to them sooner rather than later.

With clocks going forward this evening, I made sure to set an alarm so I wouldn’t sleep through Sunday morning’s hectic social calendar. Then I remembered we can’t interact with friends in the street, let alone drink coffee two metres apart from each other. Finally I realised I don’t require an alarm clock as a cat will claw my eyelids at daybreak.