Full scale kitten alert

Yesterday I had a rather lovely day, going on my parent's boat round to Fermain, a small bay, with an amazing gourmet cafe that is frequented by an awful lot of posh people. It was a lovely sunny day, the sea was calm, the views spectacular and my steak sandwich was nothing short of amazing. (It was also a wonderful hangover cure after going out for a 'quiet' drink in my local old-man pub the previous night with two friends and, after numerous pints of cider and black, dodgy shots and even dodgier cocktails, ending up dancing on stage in one of the local dives of a nightclub, but I digress).

I thought to myself as we were on the way back to the harbour, that although having a boyfriend who spends days on end at sea is a complete pain in the arse sometimes, at times like this it was quite handy, as it allows me to have so much more time with my family and and friends. This thought continued through tea with my parents, and then stopped, abruptly on my arrival home.

I walked up the hill to my house, called the Illegal Kittens for their dinner...and only one came. I called again, with some more volume (causing my neighbours in their conservatory to turn up the television, I noticed) and eventually went out onto the terrace to look for her. It was a mild, balmy, Indian summer-type evening and I gazed at the fantastic view of the floodlit castle, the moon dancing on the waves and the lights twinkling on the smaller islands of Herm and Sark. I was just thinking how lucky I was to live in such an idyllic island when it was all interrupted by an incredibly-loud-for-size-of-kitten caterwauling from the roofs below. It was the kind of miaow that said, "I am but a poor kitten, abandoned by my wilful and negligent owner to go on a boat for the whole day and not give me my supper until 9pm. I have now slipped down a crevice due to my reduced size from not being fed and will slowly starve to death unless someone comes to save me NOW."

Overcome with embarrassment at the articulacy of my kitten's miaow, I shouted for her a bit longer, with no results, bar the increased volume of the miaowing, and I realised that my worst fear since living in this house may have been realised. There is a large gap between the rails of our balcony and the roof below, which has roughly a 10-foot drop. The Fisherman and I had reassured ourselves, and each other, that there was no way the kittens could fall down this, partly because I feed them generously and they are becoming distincly barrel-shaped, and partly because, we told ourselves, they're not that stupid. Conveniently overlooking the fact that these were the kittens that, in the previous flat, had both fallen off the work surfaces by simply reaching the end and continuing to walk, before frantically scrabbling in mid-air and dropping to the ground, in a similar way to the Road Runner.

I cursed myself, for allowing this to happen and The Fisherman for not being here to deal with it as well, dragged on my jacket, grabbed a torch and went to look for her. I spent half an hour combing the surrounding area, blatantly trespassing on other people's property, climbing steps, standing on walls and yelling her name, much to the amusment/irritation/confusion of passers-by, guided only by her increasingly frantic miaows, which grew fainter, then eventually died away. Finally, I admitted defeat, headed back to the house and prepared myself to make an incredibly stupid call to the fire brigade.

Upon entering the house, I found both kittens curled up, fast asleep on the window seat. I have no idea why she continued to miaow when she could clearly get herself back up to the house, or where she was, but I couldn't get the idea out of my head that this was an elaborate punishment for not feeding them on time. I was incredibly cross, but couldn't really explain that to either of them, so I called The Fisherman, halfway to France to unload his fish and told him how it was all his fault and I would never forgive him, to which he replied "Oh dear, I have to go now because we have to get the net in." Feeling sufficiently vindicated, I went to bed, but not before giving the kittens a little extra food on the way, just in case the situation arose again. At least it would be easier to rescue them if they were stuck fast in the gap, in future.