In which Young Master Bertram has a rather trying day

Young Master Bertram has but lately returned from the veterinary surgery where he was subjected to that minor surgical procedure to the nether regions which all male kittens are fated to endure if they have responsible owners and are not destined for a life at stud.

He is decidedly groggy and a little wobbly on his back legs, but he is continuing to purr. This is surely strongly indicative, under the circumstances, of his capacity for unfailing good humour at all times. He has had a big kiss from his Aunty Caspar, and fell asleep on Lady Bracknell's bed shortly after the photograph to the right was taken. (Lady Bracknell felt it was necessary to photograph Bertie in this slightly somnambulant state because his Uncle Larkin has been fretting about the operation. She would like to point out that Bertie's mouth is open for the purposes of purring loudly enough to shake the foundations of Bracknell Towers: he is most assuredly not whimpering.)

Whilst under the anaesthetic, Bertie also had a microchip inserted in case he should at some point in the future wander off and become lost. He was a popular young chap at the surgery, with neither the vet nor the nurse having previously encountered a Selkirk Rex in the flesh. Nor, indeed, any cat with such a consistent purr. Lady Bracknell is told that Bertie purred even while being injected with the anaesthetic. Apparently, he already weighs 4 kilograms at just over seven months old, so he is set fair - as Lady Bracknell has always known - to be a very substantial cat indeed.

On equability of temperament alone, quite apart from any aesthetic considerations, Lady Bracknell has no hesitation whatsoever in wholeheartedly recommending the Selkirk Rex breed to her feline-fancying readers. Bertie is sweet-natured and affable but by no means a boring companion.

In other news, Lady Bracknell is proud to report that she has successfully removed from her handsome blue walking stick the rubber ferrule which had worn through, and fitted a replacement. The task was very much easier than she had anticipated. The new ferrule contains a metal washer, which should increase its useful life, and comes complete with rubber nodules, which should improve its grip on wet pavements. (This achievement might not strike most of her readers as being something of which they would themselves be proud, but Lady Bracknell, whilst having been blessed with not inconsiderable academic intelligence, was at the back of the queue when practical intelligence was being handed out.)