We came to the Charente in the hope of warmer weather. But the rain followed us from England. What to do?
George and his James Bond villain stare. ‘Give me more biscuits or I kill you’.
Max lost out in the game of musical chairs and begged to play ball indoors instead.
Charley dispelled the myth that cats go out on the razzle at night. He lay in this position for twenty-three hours out of every twenty-four, moving only to mew for meat and pop outside for a nanosecond. At night he purred like a train, and head-butted my hand or head whenever he wanted a cuddle.