Today is a day that one should celebrate. To be with family, friends. To eat an overly-sweet slice of cake and share a very dry bottle of wine. It's a day that you use to reflect, looking both back and forward and taking stock of your life and your place in the universe.
I'm doing none of those things today.
The Inn of Infinite Sadness, or alternatively, Smudge and Hobbes' Traumatising Transcendental Transatlantic Trip. Being the adventures of two very large, unwillingly peripatetic, half-Bengal cats and their owner (of rather similar description) as they prepare to leave the North American continent in search of a new life in their (the cats, not the owner) ancestral homeland of Aneda. Sigh, what I won't do for a decent cup of tea.
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