I got a lovely fuzzy wool blanket for Christmas last year. Much softer and warmer and more colourful than the threadbare one from IKEA.

I use it all the time during the cold season. So does Adrian, who loves this corner of the sofa.

And so does Nysse. When we get up from the sofa and leave the blanket in a heap in the corner, it of course gets turned into a cat bed. And then we come back and want to curl up under the blanket, but can’t, because it’s got a sleeping cat on it.

The blanket is mine, and I’m not going to let Nysse just annex it, by the power of his cuteness.

The new deal is that tidy up after myself when I get up. I fold the blanket and put it up on the backrest of the sofa. (Or sometimes just throw it there.) No more cat bed – and I get the blanket for myself.

Then I felt sorry for Nysse for taking away his cosy spot. I understand him so well – a wool blanket is the best thing on a chilly winter evening. Now I leave the old blanket on the other end of the sofa for him.