I’ve been hunkered down at home since noon Friday, avoiding people and frowsting. I should have gone to church this morning but didn’t; instead, I read the New York Times and dealt with the aftermath of a major cat-fight.

I have no idea what set them off this time. The first bout erupted around 0400 hours with lots of screeching, swatting and slamming about, and they kept it up episodically all day. One of them — can’t tell yet which — suffered an injury and bled on the parlour floor, and by the time I came downstairs there were bloody smears and paw-prints all over the place.

Hmmm. Come to think if it, of course I didn’t go to church. When the rest of the choir was getting stuck into the introit hymn, I was down on my marrowbones wiping drops of gore off the dining room wall to the accompaniment of feline growls. The kitchen, hall, dining room and sitting room all needed floors scrubbed,

After a day of Mexican stand-offs, I’m watching telly with Isobel curled up on my lap and Watson has retreated to the bedroom. With any luck, tomorrow they will have forgotten their tiff and I’ll come home from pool class to find them intertwined in the comfy chair.

Silver lining in the cloud? The kitchen floor is cleaner than it’s been in weeks, and I even raked the crud out from under the stove.