Blofeld’s cat

Sunday: a slow recovery in the morning. Shuffled out for the newspaper with Didi. The streets of this hilltop neighbourhood pleasingly unpeopled at 10am. Together you watched a bell-ringer at work under the spire of St Stephen’s.

Later, a short train ride with everyone to Brockwell Park. A well-landscaped sand and water playground. Ice creams from a van then lunch at a Italian-run cafe on top of the hill. A view from there across to the city-centre landmarks. Airliners in slow procession towards Heathrow, drifting like Zeppelins against a monumental backdrop of clouds and blue.

Plenty of silliness from the weather. You’re warm when the sun shines and wet when it rains. The net result: everyone got wet and stayed damp.

Buckled up for the drive back west. Stopped for green tea and meringue at K&M’s impeccably designed home in Barnes. Two Persian cats, siblings, last seen in Shanghai. Both whiter than white. Both regal in their disdain for other life forms.

The sister lay on a leather cushion and tolerated N’s shy stroking. The brother skipped by stages to the top of a high cupboard in the kitchen, with a view around the corner to the dining table where everyone was sitting. He stayed there, watching warily until it was time for intruders to be gone. Then followed to the entrance hall and confirmed your departure from halfway up the stairs.

Picnicked on cheese slices and ham inside the car at Reading Services off the M4 around 7pm. Arrived back at No. 7 around 9.30, soon after dark.


If you’re thinking

of getting familiar, be aware:

I’m Blofeld’s cat

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