After a weary day at work, Girlpants offered to pick his wifey up from town and drive her home. Which worked rather well for me as I've managed to strain the tendons in both feet again - a reoccurring injury since bouncing up and down to music in a random Cornish field in Doc Martins.

However I knew the lift would come with a sting and for me, it was to pick up a new toy for him. For he had spotted an industrial fan capable of gale force winds which would mean he would be able to waft the wonderful aromas that he planned to conjure from his brand spanking new, size of a small football pitch BBQ. And I had to trapse across town to pick one up.

Girlpants loves his gadgets. There's nothing like opening up a new box and putting a new shiny gadget toy together. Needless to say, there's always a screw or bolt missing but then he bimbles down to his workshop and delves into trays and trays of ikea flat pack cast-offs. But gadgets come in boxes - and boxes also interest the cats and as we had churlishly not unpacked all of the boxes around them, our two furballs were loving the packaging carnage that Girlpants had strewn around him. And whilst jumping in and out of the box, they ignored the fact that Girlpants had returned and was about to switch the new fan on. Full blast. As they ran straight infront it.

Whilst Custard cat with her slight frame quickly got the message and hid under the sofa as the wind was back combing her hair, Rhubarb's weight kept her pinned to the ground whilst she attempted to walk forward, blinking rather rapidly in the wind. And whilst I had never seen a cat moonwook before tonight, the fat cat did me proud.
And the moonwalk looks far far superior with four paws.