Travel Reference
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to describe the stench and texture of the stuff; it's fetid, ebony black and gloopy; like Dub-
lin's sewers the morning after St Patrick's Day. And it doesn't give up its reeds without a fight
either. I emerged from the pond an hour later looking like I'd struck oil, but smelling like oil
that may have been formed in a Portaloo at the Glastonbury Festival.
In the end, though, it couldn't be avoided. I had to be left alone with the kittens. Natalie had
to take Samuel and Maurice to the dentist and it was my turn to babysit while Thérence had
his afternoon nap. Seriously, I thought, what's the fuss? How difficult could this possibly be?
Yes they're frisky and in and out of cupboards and plant pots and they tend to crawl over you
when you sit down and they bring chaos where previously there was order - but I can put my
inherent OCD neatly in a drawer for an hour or so and just relax, can't I? You know, go with
the flow. Chill. No? Apparently not.
Natalie and the children left reluctantly and I decided to lay down some ground rules. We
were in the large open-plan kitchen-diner-lounge, with me in my customary position behind
the breakfast bar, standing like a surly barman. The kittens were at the opposite end lying on
the rug and enjoying the afternoon sunshine as it came in through the window. 'Right,' I said
to them from a distance at the other end of the room, 'you stay in your half of the room, and
I'll stay here and just keep an eye on you. Don't go jumping on the work surfaces, don't go
scratching and pulling at the rugs and sofas and most importantly stay away from my shoes
and my coats. You may look cute on a black and white Athena poster, but I'm no pushover,
OK kids?'
Who was I fooling? I turned my back briefly and almost immediately there was a gut-
wrenching, ear-piercing feline scream that chilled me to the core. I spun round to see one of
the cats dangling from Maurice's wicker toy box! The cat had got one of its paws stuck in the
handle and it was struggling violently. The paw looked like it was facing the wrong way, like
one of those horrible football injuries that they don't show on television anymore; it sounded
bad and it looked worse. I disentangled the cat and put it on the floor where it whimpered
pitifully and tried to limp back to its bed, dragging its leg behind it.
I'm afraid that this is when I lost it.
'Well that's just bloody typical, isn't it? I turn my back on you for one bloody minute while
Natalie and the others turn their backs on me for one bloody minute and you go and do this!
What were you thinking?' All three of them sat there in front of me, just looking at me as I
towered over them and went into a full-blown Basil Fawlty style meltdown. 'What were you
thinking?' I shouted, waving my fist in their little faces. 'You know who'll get the blame for
this, don't you? Eh? Me! Me! That's who.'
All of a sudden they rushed at me simultaneously apparently 'limpless' all of a sudden.
They're going to attack me, I thought - but they ran past and I turned to see Natalie, Samuel
and Maurice standing there, mouths open, their faces a mixture of horror and, worst of all,
disappointment.
