Chelsea buns Up with the sparrows, or considerably before the sparrows as the evil black cat that torments our cats was fighting with Brian through the cat door. It sounds as if people are crashing into the house at five in the morning. If I could ever catch that black cat I would give it a good hiding, for this is a psychocat: elusive and violent. It even went for Lorraine the other day when she was shooing it. So, up and finishing the brochure about short stature in children. Then other practical tasks to do with renting my house, taking meter readings, catching up with billing, popping into the gym and so on. Had a leisurely afternoon however and in the evening the cats and I watched a slovenly Chelsea performance where they threw away the game in the last ten minutes. I support Chelsea because of a currant bun. It is Dave, my Grandfather's fault. As a teenager, shortly before the second world war, he was working in his parent's cafe on the Esplanade in St Peter Port cafe. ...