The 25th of June.
It appears I should have done a blog post this morning. Whoops. Oh well, I shall do it tomorrow.
I still feel horrific in regards to both the referendum and my cough. Mommy refuses to discuss it (the referendum, not the cough) because I get too upset and I think she is concerned about my blood pressure.
I’ve spent most of my day trying to earn the trust of the new kittens. Three are generally okay with me – the two black ones and the tortoiseshell, but the other two are really not that keen. Actually that’s not entirely the case, only one still backs away from my hand, but because they look so similar, I’ve no idea which one it is.
This afternoon, I was watching Netflix while they were in the cage (letting them all out to run around on my own is quite a task) and Daddy came in to say hello to them. He was on his hands and knees, giving them all a stroke and having a little chat, and I just thought this was highly amusing seeing as he was not that thrilled with the fostering idea in the first place.
My shoulder and neck muscles are beginning to ache from all this. By my calculations, I’ve had this particular cough for about ten days, two weeks max, so I think I can expect at least another week. I hope it’s not much longer.
The 26th of June.
So tired. I was awake off and on all night because my throat kept getting really dry, so I had to keep drinking to stop the coughing. I seem to be less terrible during the day, then towards the evening, my chest starts rumbling and the cough is constant, and I can’t stop until I’ve shifted the phlegm that’s decided to move. Gah!
This morning I did yesterday’s blog post, and we have more giant crumpets, so that at least cheered me up about life. Craig David was on Sunday Brunch, which took me back to the good old days of Re-Rewind, when I was about ten years old and life was simple. I immersed myself in that while I heard of Jeremy Corbyn’s cabinet dropping like flies. British politics is an absolute disaster right now.
After lunch was kitten time. They still hiss at me when I go in, but then they allow me to stroke them so I don’t know, they’re just daft. I did manage to pick up three (one at a time) and they let me hold them on my lap and pet them, and as soon as they got a bit wiggly, I put them back in. I get the feeling Nola (big black one) is going to be one of those cats that likes to sit like a human. I think that by the time they have to leave, we might be friends.