Hungry eyes

For some unknown reason, Whisky didn't want breakfast, but he became quite demanding around lunchtime. He made out that it was my fault that he hadn't been fed, which wasn't the case at all. He just wasn't interested at 8.30am. Silly puss.

I stayed in all day for a chap to look at the joy of a blocked drain. Instead of cancelling my lunch with Si (when the morning drain appointment turned into an afternoon call), he saved the day by visiting with a flan and I made Anzac biscuits for dessert. Hooray!

The drain man appeared mid-afternoon and huffed and puffed, puffed and huffed, and finally cleared 10 years of fat and grease and whatever from the drain in the front garden that I'd almost forgotten was there. In a fortuitous moment of forward thinking when landscaping the front garden years ago, I covered the drain with only gravel and not sheeting. I gave myself a pat on the back for that and for remembering the existence of the front drain just as the man was about to give up on the back drain. All drains are now cleared. Thank goodness for that. There's nothing like having one inch of water in your toilet bowl to make visitors uncomfortable (sorry, Si).