What a night! Wilson watched Dr Who last night, and it seemed to press all his 'fear' buttons — he was terrified… but still adamant about watching. He sat on my lap, with his paws over his eyes most of the time, whimpering. Then he refused to to sleep in the tumble dryer, claiming that it was haunted, and insisted on sleeping with me.
This morning, though, he seems fully recovered, waking me at the crack of dawn to ask whether I fancied moving to Wiltshire. He has heard that there is a vacancy for General Manager at Stonehenge with a salary of £60k, and he thinks that, what with his experience of managing sTony, he would be ideally suited to the post.
Now he's in the kitchen trying to persuade sTony to write a reference for him.
I think that could take some time…
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