My poor guests, on arrival at my house last Thursday pointed out what should have been obvious to me - that my freezer (it's a fridge/freezer) could not be closed and the drawers could not be opened. Ooops.

I therefore spent yesterday and today defrosting the freezer so that it will work again. I could, I suppose, have done it while I had guests, but didn't feel that appropriate, though I'm sure that Corylus, Rhakir and Peter wouldn't have minded. At least, not much.

So I now have a lovely, clean, working freezer - but no food to put in it, and two large bags of defrosted food, which couldn't be rescued and put in a cooler as the drawers didn't open.

It only goes to show that as housewives go, I'm a waste of space.

I am unpopular with Smokey.

I took her to the vet today for an x-ray - the appointment was for 09:00, meaning I had to get up at a sparrow’s fart. She didn’t like being put in the carrier.

They were very careful to explain to me that it involved a general anaesthetic and they could not guarantee that Smokey would survive. I said I understood and that at her age (she’s 19) I wouldn’t expect a heroic revival if anything happened.

As you can imagine, I have been on tenterhooks all day.

I got a call at quarter to four to tell me that she was ready to be picked up.

It turned out that the only thing the x-ray showed was swollen lymph nodes. So we are giving her at least a month’s rest from being dragged to the vet, and may then repeat her bloods. Someone on FB asked me if they have checked for pancreatitis, and yes, they have. They are as sure as they can be that it’s not that.

When I got her home, I opened her carrier and she ran up the stairs as if the hounds of hell were at her little furry heels. Poor cat!

Poor me, too. The doors to the poor house gape ever wider. X-raying a cat is not a cheap hobby. Neither are taxi fares x four. I may have to live on cheap biscuits and porridge.