Skip to main content

M.I.C.K.E.Y. M.O.U.S.E.

Words from a Bird.  Day 69

We have a mouse in the loft.  When I'm in bed, quietly reading, I can hear its scratchy little claws doing a quickstep across the ceiling.  In my mind, this little critter is over two feet long, and would eat me alive if it got the chance.  I've read James Herbert's The Rats...however irrational my thoughts are, that bloody book will stay with me forever.

Unlike me, the husband is actually scared of mice, which probably explains why we have never got round to putting a loft ladder in - I think he's worried that Little Mickey upstairs might get the hang of the loft hatch and start invading our living accommodation, planting a miniature flag on top of the fruit bowl.  It was with some trepidation then that I told him about the nocturnal scuttlings upstairs, and I watched the blood drain from his face. 

He remembers very clearly when he was woken up abruptly in the middle of the night by something plucking a hair off the top of his big toe, as his foot dangled out of the bed. He had launched the tiny plucker (sorry, couldn't resist that..) across the bedroom floor, and having switched the lights on, I was surprised to see the cutest little field mouse, sitting in the middle of the carpet having crash-landed by my dressing table.

As we moved, so did he, running under a chair in the corner of our room.  A chair which up till that night had been the perfect place to hide old handbags behind, what with it having a lovely frilly valance and all that.  I took the full length mirror off the wall and propped it against the chair, so mousey couldn't escape, and told the husband to go and find me something which I could catch him with.

Two minutes later he was back, carrying a wicker waste basket and a snooker cue.  To appreciate the full picture here, you need to understand that it was three in the morning, so clothing was not a priority. 'What are you planning to do with that?' I asked.  'Challenge him to a frame?'  (I was referring to the cue in case you're wondering).

I probably did that 'raising my eyes to the ceiling' thing that I do on these occasions, and I slowly lifted the chair over the top of the mirror, leaving a muddle of handbags in a pile on the floor.  The husband, armed with his wicker basket, used the cue to lift one of the bags off the pile.  He gave it a vigorous shake on the end of the cue, launched the mouse-free bag onto the bed, and thrust the cue at me. 

'Your turn', he said.

'We're not playing bloody Buckaroo', I said, give it to me'.

One by one, I lifted the bags away.  As each one was dumped onto the bed, the husband inched further and further away towards the bedroom door.    Finally, with no bags left, the little mouse had nowhere to hide.  Into the wicker basket he went, and for the second time in an hour he flew, this time across the front garden.

Of course, he came back.  I didn't know at the time that a drive of about 10 miles would have guaranteed his non-return, but there was no way I was going to send the husband out in the car with just a wicker basket to preserve his modesty.

What would the neighbours have said...


Popular posts from this blog

I can't stand the rain...

The bloody rain's back then...
I suppose that this is a blessing of some sorts as it means that my hosepipe will get a well earned weekend off, and the flowers won't be looking at me through the kitchen window, wondering whether there will be any chance of me getting off my derriere and giving them a drink sometime before the next millennium.  Talking of watering flowers, I haven't had any feedback from Mrs B next door as to the complete transformation of her front garden while she's been away.  I would imagine that after two glamorous weeks away, that she will have more than enough washing to do, and perhaps hasn't had the opportunity to do a full horticultural inspection as yet.
I finally got round to cleaning Charlie out yesterday afternoon. Armed with a bin liner and some sweet smelling multi surface cleaner, I gingerly opened the door.  Oh dear is amazing just how much detritus eight adults can make over five and a half hours, and I soon realised that…

In da club...

Boy was I glad to see the end of this week.  What with the football, the weeping colleagues (just the male ones as the female variety were quite cock-a-hoop) and the incessant watering of myself as well as the allotment, my garden, and a neighbour's garden (a greenhouse, thirty tubs, four cacti, seven bowls of hedgehog water and a scoop of mealworms each the hottest fortnight on record).  Throw into the mix some rather frustrating conversations with someone who shall go unnamed, I was very glad to leave Binland on Friday afternoon.
But there have been good things too.  And isn't that what life is about?  There's no point having good things if you don't have the bad to compare them to.
I spent a lovely two hours with the Mother on Thursday discussing plants, allotments and beetroot, and I'd like to think that the highlight of her afternoon was digging up a couple to take home for her dinner that night. Or maybe it was the contraband tomato I smuggled out …

I'm walking...

Having been knocked flattish by a sore throat and all of its accompanying delights, I was quite anxious as to whether I'd be able to rally for Schnauzerfest yesterday.  I'd pulled out all the stops with cakes and dog biscuits, and was desperate to do my favourite good cause justice.  

But oh happy day... I woke up yesterday feeling quite normal (stop laughing, you know what I mean) and I loaded the car and drove to Wittenham Clumps (yes, it's a real place!) Getting there early with Miss R and Mrs S we gave the dogs a quick walk before all the other walkers turned up.  The sky, which had been threatening an apocalypse, finally decided to show its good side, and the sun shone as we got ready for everyone else to turn up. 

Now I have been doing some serious whistle training with my two for the past month or so.  This basically means blowing a whistle and shaking a bag of cheese cubes, and I was optimistic about finally letting my two off so that they could run free with the res…