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The Laptop of Heavenly Perfection - you remember that? - is smooth and luscious, charcoal-grey carbon fibre, almost velvety to the touch. Except that the lid of it has a number of little marks on it, which I'm sure it used not to have. I am fairly sure that these are the marks of cat-claws: not used aggressively, just inevitable contact as Barry comes or goes. For yes, Barry does love to sit on the LHP.
To be specific about the depth of this love: the LHP is currently in the nylon document-case that I'm using as a mock sleeve, to try to protect it from rain and snow and cat-claws and such. The document-case is on my desk, on a pile of papers. There's another pile of papers on top of the document-case; also the corner of a cardboard box, a copy of Dracula and a roll of sellotape. This leaves a bare five-inch square of identifiable document-case. Which Barry is currently sitting on. Determinedly.
To be specific about the depth of this love: the LHP is currently in the nylon document-case that I'm using as a mock sleeve, to try to protect it from rain and snow and cat-claws and such. The document-case is on my desk, on a pile of papers. There's another pile of papers on top of the document-case; also the corner of a cardboard box, a copy of Dracula and a roll of sellotape. This leaves a bare five-inch square of identifiable document-case. Which Barry is currently sitting on. Determinedly.