My cat's gone again. Well, when I say "my" cat, it was in fact my late husband Mr Trellis's pet. I've put out food for it and some dead mice I found in the bottom of the wardrobe, but the contrary little minx has not reappeared. I fear that standing in the yard calling her name doesn't work either. After all, would you come running up joyfully if someone screamed "Anghenfil Ychydig" at you? That name was my husband's idea, he said it was revenge on the English for giving their cats names like Boddington.
Anyway, enough about my pussy problems. I am going on a charabanc trip to Pwllheli tomorrow, shopping, cream tea and maybe a paddle in the sea if I can get my tights off without loss of dignity.
That ought to take my mind off anghenfil ychydig.