Weekends are for recharging your batteries so that you can face the next working week refreshed and full of zing. Unfortunately, my zing has zung.
A horrid concatenation of events has left me feeling flatter than a beehive hairdo in a hail-storm.
When I was a teacher, windy weather always brought out the devil in my students. They’d be off the scale naughty. It seems to have had the same effect on Oscar. How else to explain it?
Wide awake, I get my breath back, slow my racing heartbeat and nurse my bruised sternum. Thinks-he’s-a-ninja-cat has taken himself off somewhere to plot his next attack.
Not if I get him first.