So there you are, cruising down the river on a warm summer’s evening. What’s the worst that could happen?

We’ve had amazing weather these last couple of days. Metro reckons we had a third of the monthly rainfall in just half an hour yesterday evening. It trapped me in the office without a jumper or coat, and for a while it shut all of the mainline train stations in London. The tube flooded and the streets hid themselves away under impromptu rivers and lakes.

This morning it kicked off again, catching me as I walked the length of Oxford Street and forcing me to take refuge under the canopies of the shops, hopping along from one to the next. I arrived in the office drenched. There were two big bags of donuts there waiting to be opened. They made me feel better.

I’ve been working on the same few pages for a couple of days now, largely on account of the fact I’m covering for Mark while he’s away on holiday. His section is encroaching on mine, and it’s taking far longer to do anything than it should. Don’t get me wrong - I’m enjoying being reviews editor again - but I couldn’t do it along with my other sections on a long-term basis. I come home exhausted and the last thing I want to do is turn on the PC again.

Is that just an excuse to explain the lousy book progress?

Hmmm…

Anway, I’ll be sharing my bed with a cute young lad called Oscar for the next week and a bit. Sal came around and dropped him off this morning while she goes on holiday to save putting him in a cattery. I did that with Jess once and now hate the whole idea. When I went to pick her up her claws were so split from climbing the walls in fear that they were like stubby little paintbrushes made up of short hard hairs.

Anyhow, it’s nice to have him around for a bit of company, and he’d being very affectionate. He keeps on butting my ankles with his head as I walk around the flat. I think he’s bored, poor thing.

Perhaps he wants feeding. I don’t know how often he’s supposed to eat.

Counting up his food, though, I see he’s arrived with 24 packs of KiteKat, which works out at just over two a day, so I’m guessing it’s just a case of simple maths. When I fed him this evening and he smelt it arriving in his bowl he was climbing the kitchen drawers to get at it.

I’ll call Sal tomorrow to check.

Fact learnt on the tube coming home: if you laid all your blood vessels out end to end, they would wrap twice around the equator.

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