I watched bridge cat stride and leap across the beams with the elegance of a gymnast.
Unaware or unfazed by the drop below into flowing water.
How many of his 9 lives has he used up I wonder.
Does he even have a home? Or is this all he knows?
In other news:
Somewhat begrudgingly I turned on the TV for the first time since the Olympics finished, wondering if it would be so bad adjusting back to normal programming. I was confronted with the two hairy biker chefs wearing balaclavas and getting into a giant pod in order to measure their body fat.
The joys of Mo winning the 10,000m final seemed somewhat distant.