So, the cat is still on holiday in Plymouth. She's been hunting things and has been shaven (i cannot wait to see this). My parents display a euphoric delight whenever cat presents them with something dead which outstrips their muted "is that good?" response to my A Levels.
Mum, meanwhile, isn't doing well. Her broken finger which she tried to reset with duct tape caused a minor sensation at the health centre, resulting in an operation, some rebreaking, stitches and plastic surgery. Not good. My mother, with an ex-nurse's resilience, thinks it's a giant fuss over nothing. Upside, though, is finally getting to say to my mother "I told you so." It just doesn't feel that comforting.