I must have been very wicked in a former life or else the universe is really rather keen to only lend me animals when it believes I need them, and is just as quick to remove them from my arms the minute it thinks I don’t.

Alice, my cute as a button little black house cat has gone missing. She pushed open the stable door yesterday and simply disappeared. As she is the second black cat to vanish from my lane in the past two weeks I am really rather sick with worry and I have spent the past twenty four hours wandering around the vicinity, crawling through undergrowth and falling down holes in a relentless search for her, as she must be nothing short of terrified out of her wits with my crotchety neighbours warning that there “are ways and means of getting rid of animals” ringing in my ears after Alfie barked too much one afternoon.

One does so very much hate to be fatalistic about this thing we call life, but it does rather seem that I cannot be laid low by one disaster at a time, but must instead be walloped around the head with as many smelly, dead fish as the universe can throw at me.

Readers I am exhausted. And in danger of turning in to Liz Jones, all woe is me and I can’t go on and hells bells here comes another story about her bloody pets!

I so desperately want my life back.