Intrusion

I'm still away, but here's an update from the post-bot. Returning to the cold, dead bosom of my family (think Addams, but without the giggles), is a strange and hostile experience.

There is a constant barrage of probes from hardened and skillful interrogators. They all -- as we say in Norfolk -- "want to know the ins and outs of the cat's arse".

The lovely-looking chap at the centre of this sequence is experiencing something metaphorically akin to the grilling I will be undergoing several times a day over the course of my visit.

Although my relatives never show this degree of affection or desire -- merely prurient and insatiable curiosity.

And we never get to this level of excitement.

For which, come to think of it, I am actually rather grateful.