Knitting anxious dreams for extinct cakes

Bessy dreamt she was a rhino last night. This wouldn't be a problem normally, but she woke up in a sweat worried that she might already be extinct. Margaret gave her a kick and she yelped, and soon she was her normal self.

Felix tells me that the world is extinct in its entirety as soon as a moment in time passes. He said that we were extinct too and that we should all be breaking out in anxious sweats. I gave him a kick and he yelped and poured his tea all over my trousers. The wet patch is still there...which sugests to me there are exceptions to Felix's theory.

George lead an expedition once to find a lost bottle with a curious message, somewhere on Salisbury Plane. Amid gunfire from friendly army people, his team of one discovered no such bottle but did discover a curious message scribbled on the underside of a performing two-legged cow (who, incidentally, has a sister knitting sweaters in Alaska). I asked what the message said. George went pale and said there were messages that were not meant for mortal eyes. I'm not sure what the cow made of it but George came back a changed man.

Mrs Billawellow was complaining that her husband was cooking too many sweet cakes and that was why her teeth were rotting. I suggested she consider declaring the cake an extinct species, making its removal from the house a fait accomplit. Cookie said that to make a species extinct just so a person could save their teeth was a disgrace. I agreed, suddenly realising how insensitive I'd been to her nature concerns, and Mrs Billawellow smiled at the thought of another cake.

Which brings me back to this blog, which will soon be extinct, if it isn't already, just like me. Or perhaps extinction itself will soon be extinct, which would be a relief.