I was watching progressive rock on the TV. Rufus had decided not to join me and had hinted at a visit to the garden but he’d only just come back in so I didn’t relent. There was silence, apart from Mike Oldfield on the box.
Silence is never, ever golden.
I don’t know what made me peek into the hallway but this is what I was confronted with:
Looking a little further into the kitchen revealed the true nature of silence:
He seemed quite proud of his achievement and to be honest, he’d done a good job of shredding several items of packaging:
And the moral of the story? Prog rock is bad for your kitchen!