You’d think with this entry covering half a year’s worth of miscellaneous photos that there’d be fewer than 98% cat pictures. And you would be wrong.

“Please stop taking photos of me and let me sleep.”

It’s pretty much guaranteed that if I point my camera at Wilfred, he’ll be doing something adorable 300% of the time.

Alf, conversely, would sleep through an earthquake.

Minerva.

Amorphously moulding himself into the nearest enclave.

Wilf on the chopping block.

Charging 98% complete.

Wilfred and Percy.

Mothra. Also one of two photos that finally forced to me re-hire a window cleaner.

This was the other.

George Square, the day before the referendum.

Remember that time Scotland voted against its own independence?

Apparently the latter.

Wilfred is very disappointed in 55.3% of you.

At the Hanoi Bike Shop, celebrating the return of my computer after a three-week repair job at Creative Computing. I had, at this stage, owned the PC for 8 months, over a month of which had been spent back in the shop fixing it.

One day I’d like to release a coffee table book of Wilfred sitting in, on or under things.

Allegedly, Bengals are fans of water. Both of ours have proven the exception.

Colin was telling me how his sister’s Skype always freezes while she’s making the worst face imaginable, when – in the most magnificent example of perfect timing – his Skype froze at the exact moment he was demonstrating.

Fire hazard.

And here I was worried I wouldn’t get my money’s worth from that Cineworld Unlimited card. (Not pictured: the twelve movies I’ve seen since the photo was taken.)

Alf allowing Wilf to sit next to him is still significant enough that I feel the need to document it.

You know you have an AllSaints problem when..

That fateful moment when Minerva realised she could jump straight into the fridge…and proceeded to do it every subsequent time we opened the door.

Wilfred selflessly warming the pillows for us.

Special delivery from Finland!

Mona came bearing adorable gingerbread man cupcakes.

“Flip him on his back, he loves that!” “RRRRWWWOOOWWWRRR”

Because pets will always take the opportunity to make you look like a goddamn liar.

I remember a while back reading something that made me laugh:

“Imagine you had never seen a dog before and you saw a Saint Bernard. So you asked what it was then somebody told you it was a dog and you’re like okay. But then you saw a chihuahua and asked what it was only to be told it is also a dog. Wouldn’t you feel lied to? Would you feel that something was amiss?”

That’s exactly how I feel when I see Wilfred and Minerva sitting together.

Sleepover time! Wilf kneaded Kim’s sleeping back for about 20 minutes then fell asleep beside her head.

My view most mornings.

Spaghetti al pomodoro a la Audrey Hepburn a la John (her favourite meal, adapted from the recipe shared by her son Sean in his biography). Apparently Audrey enjoyed the pasta “absolutely swimming in sauce” and would have it at least once a week.

John was stopped twice last year by people who ran style blogs, and it’s not difficult to see why.

And, fast-forwarding slightly into 2015: Abi’s 30th!

Citation has an impressively extensive cocktail list, so I started with the one I’d never heard of before: Golden Pearl (apricot, limoncello & Pimm’s topped with champagne). John had the Bloody Mary which packed one hell of a kick (their version: vodka & tomato juice with Stolichnaya Citros, port, fine sherry, celery, cucumber, lemon juice, Worcestershire & tabasco sauce.)

Lady Cat, fashionably late.

Nesting on the towels for safekeeping.

Caught in the act.

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