I was awakened at 6am as usual by the monster, whingeing for food/escape/whatever. I got up and am pottering about to hopefully delay him a bit. He has abandoned the constant whingeing. He started doing some stir-crazy rushing about for a while, and is now playing the tart, rolling around on his back. An arch manipulator. Wonder what he will try next.
In an Alzheimer's way, I may well have mentioned this before, but painting dead relatives and friends does so much remind me of them, with all the details of their faces, that I almost feel they are back with me again. It is a sad, but good feeling, and sometimes, slightly uncanny. Almost as though the act of painting them is bringing them back in a way.
I am feeding Mavis, my neighbours cat, for the weekend. Poor little Mavis has become fed up with all the people viewing the flat since it is for sale, and my neighbour tells me she has started 'spotting' whatever that is. She is a dear little thing, absolutely tiny like a large kitten, but apparently quite elderly.
Julian came around last night to play with Kooky. Julian suggested I buy some wigs from Selfridges just to wear on special occasions, i.e. when dining out etc. I suppose. Julian says they have very good wigs. The idea is that I wear very different ones, so they are seen as 'fun wigs' rather than wigs to cover my hair with my awful scalp psoriasis which seems to get worse rather than better. I have just sent off for some more and different treatment for this meanwhile. I quite fancy the wig idea - it will take me back to the sixties, when everyone wore them.
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