My cat, Francis, has a new name: Mr Oven Glove.
Why?
Well, now the weather is turning colder, I've taken to lighting a coal/wood fire in the hearth. It's quite lovely of an evening. Vernon & sit there, have a glass of wine.. watch a film... talk... the cats curl up nearby. All very civilised.
So I'm sat there a few minutes ago having noticed Soylen Green is on the TV, in front of a roaring fire, sipping a glass of some nicely chilled fermented juice of grape. Francis wanders in the room, sees the fire, walks over me to get to the front of the hearth. He is standing about a foot from the fire, soaking up the heat, eyes closed in bliss. Then I notice smoke. The smoke is not coming from the fire. The smoke is coming from Francis. The side of him facing the fire has smoldering fur.

I move Francis out of the way. I get the feline look of death. Francis tries to get back to where he was sitting in front of the fire. Obviously he is not content with a mere smolder... Talk about a cat that likes heat on a cold late autumn evening! He is not best pleased that I have removed him...