Saturday morning

I have conjunctivitis. Only in my right eye, which weeps uncontrollably and caused me to wake up with my eyelashes crusted together and the hair on the right side of my pillow to be matted and stuck to my face. My eyelid is almost swollen shut and I look like I've been punched. Très chic, non?

Luckily today is Saturday, and I am curled up in bed with the softness of Autumn rain enveloping the house as I wipe my face yet again on my sleeve, no doubt reinfecting myself but somehow unable to stop. I have two whole days off in a row, 48 whole hours and have slept gloriously for some of them, and played trains with the Possum in others. He said "car" today, one of his first ever words and I was so excited that I scared him. He doesn't speak much, my baby boy.

Oscar the cat is curled up next to me. In his dotage he has become a sooky, purring lapcat who wants to snuggle into your warmth. There is something truly delightful about a cat - they are so snooty, so haughty. They never consider your feelings and they don't live for your attention like a dog. They are masters to be served and even though I have had one pretty much my whole life I still get a pang of pleasure when I feel my cat jump on me in the middle of the night and make a nest against the middle of my back. That and purring may just be the most therapeutic sound in the world.

It's pouring with rain now, and I have the cat curled up on one side and the Possum on the other. He has one sandal that is two sizes too small on one foot and the other is bare. We were looking at pictures of cats and dogs to try and encourage him to speak, and he had great fun before making a little sigh sound and falling fast asleep.

It is the perfect weekend, even with the gunky eye and the matted hair. All white noise and cool. Soft. Wrapped in grey.