On Friday I had a phone call from The Tribune to inquire whether I had recovered from my attack of the vapours and was back at work. “Come on over, it would be lovely to see you” I said “Actually I am just outside the gate with the cat” “The cat?”. Mr T arrived and with him the allusive Holiday Cat. Quite why HC was outside waiting for an official invite I have no idea, he is not known to stand on ceremony. Much to my disappointment I had heard that HC’s home in the Bay was up for sale so I had prepared, sadly, for the cessation of his visits. I had taken his recent absence for a change of habit of his owners, perhaps they holidayed elsewhere now. He bounded through the gate and straight up the tree, gazing down with that crazy cat look in his eyes, and made him self comfortable next to The Dog in the Parrotia whilst meowing intently. He is not usually quite so flighty, maybe it was the rain, maybe it was Mr Tribune (although he has never made me want to climb a tree), maybe he was just being a crazy cat. Nice to have him back.