I don't know whether anyone remembers, but a huge, massive, enormous black tom cat used to live next door. Occasionally he would use father's carefully tended flower beds as a litter tray and father would make the most bloodcurdling threats - all the while giving the cat a cuddle. Father was a softy.
The garden is nowhere near as nice as Father kept it and the vast expanse of cat has moved out from next door, but there is currently exposed earth around the pansies and a new cat two doors down. DH interrupted mid scrat and the cat raced off. The poor thing seems a little timid. It needn't be. Like father, I can talk a good talk about what I would do to a cat destroying my garden but in reality what I would do is cuddle it.
We managed to exchange bear's football boots this morning. Sports Direct were not as helpful as they could be. I had to be quite assertive. I'm trying to model a good way of approaching things when bear is around. I'm not actually sure of the best way, but I started off very polite and friendly and ended up firmly reminding them that it wasn't just an exchange but the issue of mis-selling.
It's been a good day to hang around. I've reached the armholes on the first side of the slipover for uncle, but I really want to crack on.