When any alleged creative flair has buggered off down the pub, the saving grace comes always via one's cats. Or, on this occasion, a cat in particular.
It's Sidney, our youngest, who fell in love with a model Basset hound when we first got him and has now decided that the large settee in the conservatory is less preferable to ... a fruit bowl.
This was the contorted state of him on Sunday afternoon. Such was his shape and lethargy that I walked round the dining table and took photographs of him in said fruit bowl at all four angles.
And the bowl means a lot to him. A few weeks back, it had fruit in it. Sidney still chose to relax next to it until the day came when the produce had gone and he got his bowl back.
This unusual location for rest, plus his belief that the sponge/scourer combo thing in our kitchen sink is actually a tiny kitten, makes me suspect he's not all there. Bonkers, but cute.