First Weekend @ No 10

Well - I caught my first rat!  Not actually in No 10, I have to admit.  But on the doorstep of No 11.  There he was - for it was a he - sitting bold as brass chewing on a disgarded packet of fags!  He smelled strongly of cointreau.  Whether he had found a half drunk glass or had the liquid thrown over him, I cannot tell.  Neither can he now!

I told Arturo (remember him!) about it.  He was rather miffed.  He said that rat soused in cointreau would have suited him nicely.  I told him it gave me indigestion.  Whether it was the rat or the cointreau, I can't tell.

Anyway - the Boy David was up bright and early.  All the flunkies scurrying round to get him to the airport on time.  He was up early practising his Arabic!  I told Larry to tip the wink to Boy David's wife that a miniature statue of the cat God, Bast, would not come amiss.  Ignorant bloke that he is, Larry had never heard of Bast.  So I'll have to educate him.  He's not really the sort to read though.  Now Boy David's children have discovered the joys of owning a moggy, all Larry's cat instincts - if he ever had any - have left him!

I left these pics on the front doorstep of No 10 - who knows whether one of the flunkies will know what's meant.  Just my luck though, it'll be windy and blow into that Nick Robinson chaps trouser turn-ups!