I have complained periodically about my not terribly good freezer. It has some species of design flaw which causes the door to bounce slightly open again after you shut it, which, if you put a fraction too much effort into pushing it closed, is very easy to do. This then causes it to start defrosting. We’ve had several episodes of door misbehaviour since December, and so I have been running the freezer down with the intention of defrosting it properly, giving it a good clean, and starting again. Its snowy depths harboured a number of cakes — half a chocolate cake left after a party when we virtuously decided to save it for another set of guests rather than scoffing it, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, when we delved into the deeper recesses, the defrosting episodes had clearly not done them any good — cautious sampling suggested that while not rancid, they had become weirdly tasteless. We thought about throwing them out, which seemed a frightful waste. ‘But if we put them out for the birds, they’ll just be massacred by the rough cats’, I said regretfully. ‘I have an idea’, said the Professor. The boys’ bathroom window opens onto the flat roof of the utility room, which is inaccessible to cats: so one by one, we are lobbing cakes out of the window, creating a sort of all day birds’ teaparty which seems to be attracting all sorts and conditions. Miss Kit is spending a certain amount of her time on our bathroom windowsill, which also overlooks the flat roof, lashing her tail and muttering to herself, but there isn’t a thing she can do, and the Rough Cats don’t know about it. Thus a good time is being had by all, and quantities of fat and sugar are going where they can do some good.