The world was wrapped in a blanket of white stuff yesterday. Not just a thin blanket but a big fluffy duvet load of snow. It was the sort of snow that if you don’t mind getting your paws wet, you can build a giant snowman; although, as my Mistress pointed out, if anyone was planning to build a snowman in the back garden, they would have to guess where I had been to the toilet, as it was snowed over pretty quickly. The snow gave me the perfect reason to stay indoors, snuggled into the warmest corner of my basket.
There was a half hearted suggestion by my Mistress to do some more wallpaper stripping but there seemed little point in walking up the road if I didn’t have to. It is fun in an odd way, discovering all the comments that the people who decorated left under the wallpaper. My Mistress was joking that we might find one that said ‘Help’ and then it all got a bit creepy as my Master said we might find instructions to where they had buried someone under the patio. Fortunately, the most exciting we’ve found so far is that one person used to be a York City fan. My Master was trying convince us that normal people didn’t write on the walls and it must have been decorating contractors. My Mistress said she always did it if she was putting up wallpaper and then wanted to know whether ‘Mum’ was the name of a polish workman, as she found a bad ‘doctor doctor’ joke signed by Mum in 1991. It’s a shame we aren’t going to be putting up wallpaper, I was thinking of all the things I could write. I wanted to leave my pawprint for posterity.