We had some mendymen in during the week and one of them had cause to spend some time on our lower roof. Blip was sitting in the garden watching him and, recounting the tale to OH, I recalled how she used to climb up onto the roof as a youngster, get herself marooned and inevitably have to be rescued, an operation involving a ladder and much coaxing and cursing. Thank goodness, said I, that she can't get up there any more now that she's older and stiffer.
You've guessed the rest, haven't you?
We were sitting in the garden on Friday evening when a movement on the roof caught my eye.
Blip then proceeded to plod up and down the parapet that overlooks our side return, with the scary air of a cat considering a death-defying leap.
After several attempts to rescue her, I had the bright idea of leaving her to it: a strategy that paid off as she found the safe way down (across our neighbours' roof and onto the garden wall).
OH reckons that she only went up there because she overheard me saying that she couldn't do it any more. I do wonder...
