And I'm afraid I probably have my feline friends to blame...

Yesterday morning, I woke up, made coffee, and attempted to switch on my laptop, only to find it completely kaput, and when I - naively hoping it was merely a power-supply issue - plugged it in, it started making an odd click-clicking noise that it had never made before.

It being less than a year old (my trusty Mac having finally keeled over and died after nearly ten years' service last year), I didn't expect the problem could be too terminal, so carted it off to the local laptop repair place to find out what was wrong.

"I think it might just be an issue with the charger," I said, full of optimism and hope. "Because the laptop starts clicking when I plug it in."

"If it's clicking, it's not a charger issue," said Laptop Man, ominously. "You'll need to leave it with me."

So I passed it over into his possession and went to have a coffee in a nearby emporium of refreshment.

I had barely taken a sip, when my phone rang.

"I'm afraid I won't be able to repair your laptop," said Laptop Man sombrely. "It's completely dead. Come to collect it and I'll show you."

When I arrived, my poor little laptop lay deceased on the counter, all its interiors on display, and Laptop Man explained it was full of water. That had caused a fuse to blow and a little fire to ignite internally. The "click-clicking" was a safety feature to stop more power going through it and running the risk of it bursting into flames.

"Oh dear," I said.

"Indeed," said Laptop Man, gravely.

"But the thing is," I said. "I haven't - rather miraculously, in fact - actually spilt anything on it. I've damaged laptops doing that in the past, but nothing's been spilt on this one."

Laptop Man looked sceptical.

"I did take it out yesterday, though, when it was raining - but it was in my backpack. Could water have got through this?"

I showed him the backpack in question.

"Yes," he said.

Oh dear.

But nevertheless, I'd only been outside for a few minutes, and I couldn't see how the bag could have got sodden enough to do that amount of damage.

Then a thought started to slowly descend into place...

I have two cats, fraternal twins, Jack and Cleo. Like many siblings, it's hard at times to imagine they even came from the same planet, let alone the same parent, but they did, and they are part Maine Coon. You'd never tell with Cleo, neither in appearance or temperament - she is a very classic domestic short-hair.

But Jack, with his big furry coat, prominent ears, and tendency to meow his head off at 1 'o' clock in the morning, is Maine Coon through and through.

He also likes, as Maine Coons apparently seem to, to get wet. When it's raining, and Cleo is sensibly curled up inside, Jack will be parading up and down the front wall, absorbing as much moisture as he can, and then - his favourite party trick - he will race into the house, jump on whatever human might be available, and shake himself vigorously. He's always absolutely sodden when he does this, as if he's had a bath.

There's another thing Jack, as all cats, likes doing, and that's sitting on things. Especially my backpack.

When I returned from my excursion, on the day I'd taken my laptop out, I left my bag, containing laptop, in the living room.

Jack did not sleep upstairs on the bed that night.

It had been raining heavily overnight.

So, while I don't have the kind of proof that would stand up in cat-court, I strongly suspect a sodden Jack sauntered into the living room, curled up on my bag, and all his soaking wetness percolated through into the computer.

So, this purr-ambulating explanation has been penned in order to communicate to readers that I am currently without laptop. I am composing this entry on (Mr. AF) Mark's computer, which he currently doesn't need as he is on half-term from his college course. However, as of next Monday, he will once again be using it heavily, and so while I will have some access to it, it will inevitably result in a lowered productivity volume until I have re-acquired one of my own, which will take some saving up for (not least because I'm still paying off the last one!).

Contrary to the belief of some, uh, "creative" thinkers who appear to believe I am in receipt of some sort of generous stipend from shady members of the establishment, I, in fact, am not, and only earn what I generate in subscriptions and donations from readers. The household finances are rather tight, not least since Mark was made redundant and, unable to find replacement work in his field (a problem more and more are facing), was obliged to return to college to retrain.

So, if you've been on the fence about whether to become a paid subscriber here at Miri AF enterprises, via Substack or Patreon, now is a great time to do it! And many thanks to those of you who already are.

Or if you don't feel in a position to commit to a regular subscription at the moment, one-off donations via Buy Me A Coffee or straight to my bank account (details in blurb below) are also enormously appreciated.

Thank you for your patience and support, and normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

I'd like to be able to add that "Jack sends his apologies", but I'm afraid the furry fiend seems utterly unrepentant... He is terribly cute, though, and hopes to appeal to you on that basis.

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