Before moving into the castle I lived at Leftwing Idiot’s flat for a bit. While I was there my tics developed a fascination with a particularly bright star that I could see from my bedroom window as I was going to sleep. My tics named it, ‘Cartoon Star’.

A few days ago Leftwing Idiot, Chopin and I found ourselves in a tiny puppet shop. Among all the amazing and elaborate puppets I spotted one small finger-puppet that I was immediately drawn to. It was a small silver star with a smiling face – it was Cartoon Star!

I couldn’t leave without him, so I bought him and took him home to the castle. As I write this I can see him out of the corner of my eye – perched on top of the aerial of a radio on my bedside table.

I love him, and my tics have been chatting happily to him while I’ve been writing this post.

“Cartoon Star, I love it when you sing Bohemian Rhapsody.”
“Cartoon Star, do stars eat cornflakes?”
“Cartoon Star, do you prefer palm trees, mountains or figs?”

It’s like the welcome return of an old friend.