Winter draws on

I'm very busy at the moment trying to establish my new winter routines.

She wakes up first, but I prefer not to get up at the same time. I looked at her once when she had just woken up. It was like looking into the eyes of the gorgon. Mascara all round her face and hair sticky-outy. I do have a sensitive stomach, so I find it best to sleep for an extra hour or two while she is crashing around getting presentable.

She eats porridge. Yucky girly food - tried it once. Didn't like it. I tend to have a high-protein breakfast - usually fish.

She goes out. I go to her bed.

She comes back. I get up. I eat my tea.

I have a new fluffy bed which is by the radiator in the lounge. I spend late afternoons lying down, resting. Then, after I have tasted her dinner, and she has eaten it with my approval, we have some special quality time on the sofa. She gives me an evening bath in front of the tv. Then she goes upstairs to have her bath and leaves the door open because I like to watch her at all times. I am also learning a new game - chase the tape measure. The rules are very complicated and the game exhausting. Usually I have just enough energy left to eat my supper and then I go to bed.

Reading that back, I am astonished at how much I can fit into one day. If only others followed my example, the world economy would be off its knees in no time.

Philosophical stuff

Why don't they make sparrow flavour cat food?

How to write an article

So earlier on, I was doing a bit of post-breakfast pre-lunch internet searching when she said to me, rather roughly:

'Get off that chair, Buster, some of us have got work to do'.

What work? I asked.

'Oh, I have an article to write today', she said, all puffed up.

I was mildly interested so I kept half an eye open while I was resting. This is how you write an article

• Sit down at computer
• Sigh loudly several times
• Ensure last sigh makes 'raspberry' sound
• Tippy tap for five minutes
• Get up and retune the radio
• Make pot of coffee
• Go to the shops to collect a paper
• Sit back down again
• Sigh several times
• Stand up
• Water the garden for half an hour
• Prepare brunch
• Eat brunch
• Read paper
• Send emails telling people you are writing an article
• Hang curtains
• Run a bath
• Sit in bath for half an hour

She's still up there now, working away at her article and listening to the radio while she splashes around. It's really hard work.

Hungry Hammer

So, at half time in the West Ham match I thought I could maximise my downtime by demanding an early tea. 'You've already had two big fat pouches today, Marley' she said to me. But she dished it up anyway - chicken. Then I heard her say under her breath 'you are going to get a big fat pouch yourself if you are not careful'.

Oh ha bloody ha.

Too posh to wash

When she came home, I woke up and trotted downstairs. She gave me a big hug and then said 'ew, you smell like a big old sock'.

My personal hygiene is a constant source of friction between us. As I remember it, one of the terms on which I moved in here was that she would see to all my grooming requirements. She brushes my fur once a day and piles up all the dead fur in the middle of the room so we can both admire it. Every few days she gives me a sponge bath and pulls any tangles out by hand. This was our agreement so how can it be MY fault if I am smelly? I hope she's not going to turn into a nag.

I had fish AND meat for my tea.

Chaos in Deptford

Downstairs is all in turmoil. The furniture is playing at ghosts, all wrapped up in sheets and the telly's gone into hiding. And my blankie is missing. Last night, she went to bed early and I crept into the bed when she was asleep.

When she woke up she seemed astonished to see me. I woke up momentarily and knew immediately I was sleeping in a wet patch. After the last incident I didn't want her see it so I went back to sleep until she left the house.

I wonder when she will be back. I have already eaten my breakfast. It could be hours. I'm going back to bed.

Sensitive ears

She burst in about half an hour ago, covered in white paint and with her face all pink and shiny. It wasn't attractive. She said she had an accident on a bus with a pot of paint. She changed her outfit, and I had a little sit down on her lap. After a few minutes, I was just settling down to snooze when I cleared my throat and she started that ridiculous singing again:

You're a little purr-ball
You've got a fur ball

The sound was so unpleasant I told her to get in the kitchen and get me something to eat. She's easily distracted, and didn't get on to the chorus. Thank goodness.

A little light lunch

Nice. Shredded chicken in gravy. She's not a bad sort really.

Arch enemy Archie

Reading through my diary, I realise that I started telling the story of my escape from prison and my shacking up with this bird over a month ago. And I still haven't got to that bit yet. As you can tell, I lead a pretty busy life here and things get in the way so.

My dirty protest continued and my captors grew increasingly wary around me. Fearful for their own safety, they brought in a new member of staff - an evil guard dog called Archie Jack-Russell. He was an aggressive, snappy thing who was always snuffling around my cell showing off his teeth and his toys. He was the jailers' pet and went about his duties with gusto. The little rat catcher.

My tummy is really growly. I haven't had a bite to eat since elevenses. I am going to call her in from the garden. She's slacking and needs telling.

How to get birds and keep them interested

I sauntered downstairs mid morning after a little nap and there was a man in the hall. My bird was putting on a jacket and doing the old 'where's the front-door key' dance she does every time she goes out. I was astounded. Who was this bloke and why was she going out with him? I don't think so, mate I thought and did what anyone would in my place. I looked straight at him, and threw up my breakfast over the stairs.

That got her attention. And I got a tummy rub.

Old family recipe

She's got quite a repetoire in the kitchen, this bird. Sometimes, when I just don't fancy meaty morsels, she goes into the kitchen for hours, filleting fish, and coating the strips in breadcrumbs. I don't know how she fashions these 'fingers' but they are really tasty when mashed up on a small plate.

Psychological warfare

I think a lesser chap would have been set back by the collapse of the tunnels and the accidental destruction of the coded message. But not me. I decided that from now on I was going to engage in a dirty campaign. Having given up washing, I was already emitting a ripe fragrance that made approaching me an unpleasant chore for my captors. My fur was matted into clumps and my nails were an inch long. Now, I started to go to the bathroom all over the floor of my cell, keeping my toilet clean and fresh for any future tunnelling.

I practised holding my ears horizontally and snarling whenever anyone approached me. I was astonished at how wide I could open my mouth and how loud I could hiss. This unpredictable behaviour freaked them out and they started visiting me in pairs with one person standing near the exit shouting advice and encouragement to the unlucky person assigned with cleaning my cell.

This was great. They were frightened of me!

Night-time emissions

We haven't talked about what happened on the sofa yesterday, but she was obviously unsettled because she got up in the middle of the night to make a cup of tea. When she took it back to bed I silently followed her upstairs and jumped up on the bed and fell asleep. There was no touching.

When we woke up again, she looked at her 'vintage' (aka second hand) eiderdown and complained that I had drooled all over it. She couldn't look me in the eyes and stormed off to take it to the dry cleaners. When she came back she waved the receipt under my nose and said, you owe me 25 pounds.

She's quite attractive when she's cross.

I ate a whole tin of food in one go.