I've just answered Lorraine's phone for the sixth time since arriving here two weeks ago. One call was from Lorraine herself, one from Lisa's mother, one put the phone down as soon as I picked it up, one tried to sell me something, another asked for Mrs Bywater, and the latest was for Mrs Winfield. Having told him he'd got the wrong number and that no one called Winfield lives here, he said "What about Deborah Winfield?", as though he expected me to say "Oh, Deborah Winfield? Yeah, she's right here on the sofa".

Something tells me Lorraine doesn't get a lot of phone calls during the day. I'll just have to keep reading her e-mails to pick up any goss.

Anyhoo, Lorraine arrives home tomorrow morning, so the cat-sitting is nearly at an end. To celebrate, Oscar and Timmy have been fighting like cat and... um... cat all morning, despite me attempting to keep them apart with some concilliatory tuna. It's like ACAS around here. (Are they still going? You never hear about them any more. I blame Tony Blair).

So today's task is to tidy the house and pack up all the bagels, though personally I'm inclined to leave the place looking a mess and blame it all on Timmy. I also need to consider removing any criticisms of Lorraine and her lovely cats which might have appeared here over the past fortnight (have there been any?), just in case by some miracle she remembers my blog address and comes checking on the level of care her babies have received.

Alternatively I may just change the last dozen entries to say "posted by Lisa"...