In which Moult is a miserable bastard.

I'd just turned up at the bed-and-breakfast in Wales, feeling fragile, and was jumped on by several unadvertised dogs, which I did not enjoy (one of the reasons I choose to be a kitty). I sat in my room (in the bean bag chair depicted) and drew this to blow off steam. It would have been more accurate to say that I sometimes want to live a hundred miles from jumpy dogs, but I was in a misanthropic mood.

I made friends with the dogs later. And where can I buy a bean bag chair? It was really comfortable and good to sketch in.