Cats, Coffee and Catastrophe

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The other Friday we were wandering along Brick Lane looking at the graffiti-not quite as good as it was before the pandemic. At the top of the lane is Lady Dinah’s a cafe for lovers of cats. We hadn’t booked, but luckily it was open to walk ins. About a dozen cats live in the shop, with most of the activity happening downstairs. The moggies are all very friendly and move around, and sleep, as they wish. The cat on the table, looking for some eats, is Sherlock, his brother Moriarty was around somewhere. Have forgotten the name of the other cat in the picture. On the way back to the Tube Station, walking along the Whitechapel Road I suddenly found myself sprawled on the ground and seeing stars. I had tripped over something and was a bit stunned. Making our way to the Blind Beggar Pub for a vital pick me up and to check damage, I seemed none the worst for wear, but the next morning was a different story. Somewhat dramatically. I thought I may have broken a rib, but it was just bruising. Still, Standing up, sitting down and even walking needed some thought and careful manoeuvring. Even worse, I had sprained my wrist and needed both hands to pick up my tea mug. That was a blow! Well on the mend now and have even been on a bike ride… with some care!