We spent intervals of the morning tracing back Phil’s illness as well as we could, as he has a GP appointment this afternoon and tis best to be prepared. It would appear, after much analysis, that it all stems back to the appearance of Random Cat (aka The Stripy). There was certainly a lot of sneezing in the early days, but it seemed that Phil got accustomed to the cat and settled down.
Phil went to the ENT unit at the Royal Berkshire last Monday to have a buildup of earwax removed from his ear. The gentleman performing the task mentioned that there was evidence of a severe allergic reaction and he was wondering how Phil put up with it. So it seems likely that our stripy friend is to blame.
I’m not sure what we will do about this as The Stripy is so bonded to Phil that it would be heartbreaking to separate them, and I’d miss the tabby turnip. He’s such a loving, docile, timid, trusting, fearful bundle of silliness that it’s hard not to adore him. But Phil is in a terrible state and must get better.
We will have to work ultra-hard to keep the house spotless and vacuum the carpets and furniture every day. Possibly an ioniser may help too.
I suspect the hardest part will be trying to tell The Stripy that he can no longer snuzzle on the bed every night. He’s not going to understand that. Not that he understands very much anyway.

I bought a pink wig on eBay. As you do.

Me

Philb

And finally, our cat, Mogret

Must get one of these! It is basically pure philb.

For those that do not know, philb has an owl collection numbering several hundred miniature owls. And he is, of course, a leet haxxor, so it would be perfect.

Not sure what the mogret would make of it. But.. OWL!

For those that haven’t seen this yet, I dyed my husband’s hair red yesterday.

Apparently, as of October 2003, one of my duties in life is to remove, at the end of the day, the socks from the feet of my husband. He experiences what is known as ’sock time-out’ and when this happens, the socks must be removed with all speed.

Foot massage is also appreciated but not a compulsory part of the ritual.

My husband is currently laying on the bed, tormenting our lemonlight by sending it on/off signals from his laptop. Is this a good use of technology?

I have an inherant sympathy for the poor person calling from a call centre. Unless you are particularly masochistic and enjoy daily abuse and rejection, it cannot be a pleasant job to do.

My husband, on the other hand, feels no such compassion. It gives him great pleasure to wind up the poor unfortunate caller, admittedly to my very great amusement.

For example, we just received a call from Tiscali, attempting to sell us some kind of telephone service. Obviously I only heard the local end of the call, but it went something like this:

Phil: Yes, I pay the BT Bills. I love paying the BT Bills. B-T- British Telecom. BT. Yes.
*pause*

Phil: Oh, no calls - don’t make ‘em. I just have a telephone to receive calls.

*pause*

Phil: Oh no, they pay *me* money, something like £10 a month. Just for having a phone.

*pause*

Phil: It was lovely to hear from you too. Goodbye.

This conversation was conducted in an especially British voice - like a Wing Commander chappie in a war film.

I, of course, was giggling uncontrollably, so apparently the lady on the other end sussed that there was Humour involved.

So, I come home from work to find that the philb has attempted kitchen-based conflagration. There was a distinct smell of smoke, and he was grinning like a loon. Apparently, fat from the burgers he was grilling ignited and there were interestingly-large flames bellowing forth from our oven-based grill facility.

Understandably, the cat was looking a bit wild-eyed and uncertain but seems to have settled into somnolence now.

Incidentally, I can’t believe I’ve just needed to add a category for ‘doom’.

Also in the philb/insanity department: five minutes ago saw him miowing one of the themes from Lloyd-Webber’s Phantom of the Opera. I radiate concern. Can you feel it?