Quiet time @ No 10

Yesterday, Arturo and I were really quite mind-blowingly brave! We hitched a lift in the back of van conveniently parked outside the back of No 11. Arturo said it was going to The V & A museum. Marvellous! Exhibition Road was in a dreadful state! Road up and people milling round. Still, we made it to the side of the Albert Hall!

Why did we do that, you ask? Well, everyone knows that it's THE place to hear Handel's Messiah. I went on my own, last year. So I thought I'd educate Arturo, this year. We slunk in through a side door. No one noticed us at all! There was room for us on the top step of the circle! We positioned ourselves very well indeed.

There was a small boy near us. He got quite bored. However, in the second half when the Hallelujah Chorus started, he really perked up! He stood to attention and grinned. Then, when the trumpets sounded, he was delighted. It had all been worthwhile. His mother looked mightily relieved.

Arturo nearly jumped out of his skin when the trumpets played. Of course, I knew just what to expect. When I asked if he had enjoyed it. He said it was an experience1 To me, it was splendid. The choir and singers were brilliant and the conductor was amazing! I vowed to go again, next year with or without Arturo.

To return to Downing Street was more problematic than getting there! Too many dogs to go via the parks! Too many people to run along the pavements. We waited till dark, hitched a lift on an empty No 10 bus! Then, hopped on a No 12 and, as they say, 'Bob's your Uncle', we was back home!

Arturo was done in! He'd never been so far, or heard so much in one day! As for me, I was all hyped up too, so went ratting!

After two good catches, I decided to turn in for a kip! I settled down in the kitchen. There was an old 'Daily Telegraph' lying on a chair. I took a gander and my hair fair stood on end, I can tell you! Some jockey was moaning about the proposed ban on whipping of racehorses. He had written, and I quote:

Some people hold any horseracing cruel. We cannot think that in Britain, so loyal to racing, such an opinion will prevail. Racing is international, and a ban on moderate use of the whip restricts the sport here for no real benefit.

One thing about being a cat is that you're not dependent on humans! Not like dogs or horses! Any self-respecting cat can make out on his own! And I'm a self-respecting cat.

Only a few more days of the jolly old hols, as Boy David would say! Then, it's all back to the cut and thrust of politics! I'm going to enjoy the peace till Tuesday, at least.