One main point of conversation was what might happen if a person, by accident, happened to wee on their electric blanket in the middle of the night. Grizelda was sure that my mother might know but I said I would not ask her. Grizelda will now ask her mother this important question, Spencer and Madam Squeeze eagerly await the answer.
I've become a woman of luxury with my electric blanket and my plastic combs, the cat approves of both blanket and combs. Some people might not think that a cat and a woman should share a plastic comb but I don't mind, the cat seems cleaner than me most days. If it came to it I could wash the cat or the comb in the bathroom sink using soap and water.
I'll send myself to sleep thinking of postage stamps and the various hats worn by the Queen of England. I'll imagine my own currency with square coins stamped with pictures of the cat, a comb and an electric blanket. I'll dream about wheat and floating boats and sand dune horizons. I'll imagine the rhythm of the sea and microwaves and showers. I'll dream about jars of honey on a windowsill and you.