The Sun has Got His Hat On. Hip, Hip, Hip Hooray!

Amazing how you can wake up feeling miserable then, within a matter of hours, feel like kissing every person you meet. (This is Brighton, so it is permitted.)

To bring you up to date, I toddled off to court, arriving five minutes late as my dear ex-wife had rung to wish me luck just before I was about to leave which took all of fifteen minutes.

So, sweaty from my accelerated walk as well as with nerves, I arrive in the waiting room and immediately spot my adversary, the landlord's agent. To spare his blushes, I will call him by his initials, TC. (They also happen to stand for Top Cat. Very appropriate as you will see.)

He is of a similar age to me and a most agreeable individual. He has plucked my ass from the flames a couple of times before.

So we chat. I explain the situation, he scratches his head. A good sign. The ball is in his court. He bounces it a couple of times.

"I need to refer to the umpire [i.e. his counsellor]," he says. "If she doesn't turn up in five minutes, I will adjourn the case."

I swiftly make a plasticine model of said counsellor and stick pins in it.

My voodoo fails. The counsellor appears and the two go into a huddle. TC emerges from the huddle.

"I will continue with the repossession order," he says. "However, I will sit on it and then, provided you can clear your arrears by the end of July, I will rip it up."

I can clear my arrears by the end of July. I will clear my arrears by the end of July. I can, I will. I will, I can.

As for TC, he is Top Cat.