I am in the deep deep doldrums dear reader. I have no idea why as life is really quite spiffy at the moment, all things considered. My problem is this…my creative juices have…well…congealed. Alas…the muse has well and truly deserted me this time. As if this wasn’t distressing enough, today has been something of an emotional rollercoaster for me. It is Hectors’ (the man of the house, the engineering supremo and hoarder extraordinaire) birthday. I have been preparing for this and I have been saving up my pocket money for a little while now. To help this worthy cause I have also abandoned my weekly poker sessions with Nelson and stayed well away from my extreme knitting circle. To be honest I am trying to distance myself from the latter anyway as it really does seem to be getting out of hand. I originally went to see if I could fashion myself a rather nice quad of knitted utility stockings (warm yet appealing to the discerning eye) but since Mother Nonna Concepta took over the management of the group it has become less of a gentile woolly social gathering and more of a high octane endurance event. With perculiar emphasis on seasonal vegetables…?

Back to Hector. I must admit that I am quite fond of the tall, loping loon. He takes me on some splendid walks, although I am not keen on paw cleaning rigmarole afterwards. With my savings I bought him a personalised card with a photo of me on it and a very large jar of sweeties. He was, naturally delighted and I got a hearty chest tickle for being so dreadfully thoughtful. I made sure that I was especially attentive towards him all day and I felt a warm glow, which turned out to be the wood burner.

As I languished with all four spindle some limbs pointing upwards (paw at coquettish angle obviously) I began to see some of the signs that we were going to venture forth on an evening adventure! My guess was that we were going out for a sumptuous dinner somewhere. Hurrah! I am as you know very fond of an unexpected sausage treat but sometimes ones palate demands something a little different.

Incidently, you may wonder what these signs are…well…there is a general period of inactivity in the afternoon where, after my walk, some quality snoozing is done. Then, then they will finally unfurl from their slumber nests and have a cup of tea. As a slight deviation, may I say how odd it is that tea seems to be a restorative to most things in life? Neither of them will do anything unless they have had a cup of Earl Grey.

Anyway, the titivating begins. I have no idea what goes on in the bathroom, they won’t let me in to observe and to be honest with you I think this might be for the best. The noises can be quite alarming at times. Suffice it to say that I believe a considerable amount of scrubbing, buffing and deodorising goes on. Sometimes there is humming and whistling. Sometimes there is a defeated sigh as they look in the mirror.

This at least gave me a few moments, as a few moments is all I need, to get myself ready. I quickly smoothed down my Vera Wang and dug out my tiara. It is a bit battered after the incident at New Year with the lads from the local chicken fanciers group – naturally I had to apologise in writing and reimburse them for my over zealous celebrations, but I believe we eventually departed as friends.

I brushed off the remaining feathers that still clung to my tiara and flattened out the dings. I decided to put all of my encoutrements in a silver handkerchief that I neatly gathered and tied to my paw. Goodness me, If I may be bold I would say I did look rather ravishing!

I waited patiently by the door, bristling with excitement. Quite frankly I couldn’t quite believe it when they started the ridiculous distraction technique they use to lure me into the kitchen. The technique by the way consists of one of them, whichever one is feeling the strongest emotionally, cheerfully calls me in with the promise of a treat. As ever, I fall for it. Oh I am a slave to a treat. They depart as nonchalantly as can after they read somewhere they shouldn’t make a fuss of me before they go. There I was, in my finery, sat with a piffling gravy bone. A gravy bone!

Well, I sat there for a while, utterly woofless. Ever so slightly heartbroken as it isn’t very often that I get a chance to break out my Wang and tiara. I think you will agree with me there was only one course of action to be taken. After some quick tensing to test the current status I decided that I could indeed managed to open the gates of wee and proceeded to tiddle all over the floor. Ha! I looked at the pool for a little while but still felt aggrieved… I carefully disrobed my wondrous outfit as one doesn’t like to crinkle one’s Wang, and then I rolled in the pool. Thoroughly. Lucky for them I had no more to give as it were, or it could have been even more spectacularly unpleasant.

I poured myself a restorative gin and french and fired up the laptop for a few games of Wingo Bingo and waited. I heard the key turn in the door and the gruesome twosome returned, evidently in a good mood as they were debuting a particularly rousing rendition of Björk’s “Its oh so quiet’.

Calling my name, they flung open the door as I bounded out to greet them. The short one threw her arms around me and hugged me tightly to her…then recoiled. Yes, yes I was indeed a tad damp. Yes, it really did smell like wee…it was at this point that the birthday boy himself strode into the kitchen to put the kettle on – and aquaplaned over the fast spreading puddle of Spindles finest, landing in a sodden heap.

Oh! Oh I say! What larks! Well, I must say this had surpassed my expectations.  What a resounding result! Words were uttered. Some of them were pointedly aimed at me I believe. Some of the words were unmistakably Germanic in origin. The moral of this I think you will agree if that you should always take your Spindle with you.

I mean, how could you possibly resist?