I have got wise to you and your cheese habit, so I've been keeping it clear of you. I was quite surprised therefore to have you hurtle into the house through the patio door, corner so fast you nearly rolled and then, with the scatter of claws, vanish behind the sofa. The sound of chasing footsteps outside was similarly a shock, as was some of the language being used by next door's builder, whose mates were laughing at him if what I could hear over the fence was anything to go by.
A quick peer over the sofa did, in fact, confirm the fate of his cheese and pickle sandwich.
My morning? Well, making cheese toasties at 7 a.m. in the morning to make up for a cat-snatched sandwich and patching the new hole in the fence with chicken wire to stop you getting out again, is not a great start to the day.
Your morning? Involved cheese, pickles, a sandwich, and, more recently, much smug purring. You are so lucky those builders like cats.
I'm glad one of us had a good start to the day.