All those Sunday songs

Having copped out of working/painting in the gallery today due to my lack of tax/MOT/insurance, which itself is due to the 'extreme weather conditions', I decided to have a proper Sunday. For this I prepared myself with tea, warm clothing, cat and newspaper and settled upon the sofa to recline, relax and read. Cats are obviously genetically programmed for Sundays and Twig had probably spent months wondering why I wasn't conforming to her expectations of human behaviour. She took up residence on my stomach, preventing any movement, including tea drinking and newspaper reading; when I decanted to the table, she arrived and laid herself out on the paper in a manner appropriate for covering the most possible print area. Team point Twig; latest cat behaviour exam passed with flying colours.

She managed to wake me with her mad yowling this morning, of course, so all attempts at a lie-in were thwarted. The yowling seems to mean either 'Mum! Dad is trapped in that room and I can hear running water!! Help me save him!' or 'Dad!! Don't go in there! Don't leave me here with her and that fat black-and-white creature! Help!!'

Haven't figured out which; for some reason she only performs this ritual when Stu is showering, obvioulsy unphased by my removal to the land of the running water...

I did get some work done as well, I am proud to report; just when I thought I was all 'angelled-out' I realised that the need for Christmas presents was upon me and so I took once more to the small box canvases and created a small hoard of winged ones for friends and relatives. I had started yesterday but it still came out at about 75mins per angel, so a good chunk of the day was taken up with gainful employment.

Annoyingly, as I write, Stu is an hour later than he had hoped to escape from the kitchen hell today. This is one of his 'half' days; only working from 8 to 4 instead of the whole grind through to the dead of night; sadly it is the first day many people will have escaped their icy lairs to indulge in the evil occupation known as shopping, so I fear that he may have been mobbed.

Guess I will complete my own little Christmas present extravaganza and wrap the little angels up for their journeys around the country; and not a credit card abused.