This post was originally written in 2018 for an old and now retired blog.

In the summer of 1991 I was doing my A levels (Music, Literature and Art in case you were wondering) and I had not yet seen Aliens. That’s Aliens with a big A. To clarify, I hadn’t knowingly seen aliens with a little a either. Still haven’t. But I digress.

I was persuaded to watch the film Aliens at a friends house. I did not enjoy it. Not. One. Bit.

Afterwards, lights were turned on and jokes were made and a friend drove me hom to my parents house – my parents and siblings were away at the time. My fear levels were still through the roof. My friend kindly walked me through my garden and waited outside until I’d locked the door behind me.

Were there any aliens in the house? Unlikely, but I turned every single light on and checked anyway.

Nothing.

I got ready for bed and read art history notes for an hour. If nothing else was going to calm me down, surely this would do the trick?

Nope.

With my heart still flipping around like a fortune teller fish I checked the house again. Still nothing so I turned off most, but not all of the lights. Trying hard to think of something else, indeed anything else, I eventually fell asleep in the early hours.

If you’ve ever had a cat then you’ll know how they can often have a sick sense of humour. Kit, our vicious and smelly (but much loved) tabby was maybe more developed in this area than most. He would have been better named Git.

Reader. On this night. Of all nights. While I was finally fast asleep. The cat jumped on my face.

Yes I sat up screaming and yes I threw him across the room. I think I was justified.

p.s. when I wrote “threw”, I meant it the loosest sense. He was a rough play kinda cat and would have enjoyed it.