A Christmas story

I don't like Xmas much. But I do like cats, and so for the last three years my present-buying has been entirely limited to cats, a habit I first acquired when living in Loughborough at the end of 2000 and buying something for the two cats in the house where I was staying. In the last three years Alfred and Guthrum have been the beneficiaries, as they were again this year, each receiving a tin of tuna each from an Italian delicatessen I came across while working in Chelsea one day in December.

I bought three tins - the third one for Alice, the tortoiseshell cat who lives in Bethnal Green with my friend Chris. Chris was away this Xmas seeing his family, so I agreed to go across on Boxing Day and make sure she was properly fed. Although I didn't see much of her that day - she's still very much a scaredeycat and hides herself behind the sofa whenever I call - I made sure her bowls were full so that she wouldn't hungry in the two days before Chris got back. I refilled her water and before I went I left behind the tuna, parcelled up in wrapping paper with Alice written on it in small letters.

Too small, as it transpired. I saw Chris last week, and he thanked me for the "pilchards" (as he put it) that I'd given him for Xmas. They'd been great.