A mouse!

A mouse in broad daylight no less.

Brave mouse.


Well OK not so brave, it popped out from under the skirting of the big cupboard* in the corner of my kitchen/office, saw me, popped back in and then freaked out and ran under the fridge when I opened said cupboard to see where it came from.

It came from a hole where the studding wall of the cupboard meets the floorboards. Or rather doesn't meet the floorboards.

This is the third time (in two and a half years) that I've seen a mouse in my house. The first this year, but also the first ever in daylight (the other two were furtive night time mices as one expects). Its boldness - coupled with it being in my kitchen - make me think I should be doing something about it. Presuming mouse-boldness indicates competition for food and/or space under the floor**, which in turn I presume indicates a many of mices under my floor.

I don't want to kill them though.

I also don't want them in/on my food/food preparation places.


For the time being (since there's no evidence of mouse anywhere that food is kept or prepared - I checked thoroughly!) I think I shall live and let live, but keeping an eye out for further mouse-ey incursions. Loath though I am to start killing the wee buggers, I really can't have them making free with the kitchen.

* said cupboard is where I store Henry (the hoover) a bucket and other such large cleaning related miscellany... had mouse emerged from a food cupboard I'd be out at the shop buying traps but as it is...

** where, I'm reconciled to the fact, there will always be mice. I live in an old building in the middle of a city after all.

Ding Dong

So I wasn't going to blog about this.

Yes, I know I've not been blogging about anything much lately so big whoop, yes?

Well I wasn't... But then Hamish pointed something out to me and I wanted to share it. Hame's been one of my best friends for such a long time that I forget sometimes this isn't the land he was born into. On April 8th he emailed me with thanks for preparing him for this day. Amongst other things I'd once played him a particular Hefner song. I remembered - reading that email - how startled my archetypally Canadian friend was early in our relationship when my South Yorkshire roots showed through on the subject of this one poisonous bag.

Hatred doesn't figure in my make up. It doesn't, any of you who know me, know that. Margaret Thatcher was the exception who proved that rule.

I occasionally cite primary school craft lessons (where - teachers colluding - we'd craft clay effigies of the then-Prime Minister's head and then mangle them while gleefully singing "here's Maggie Thatcher, Throw her up and catch her, Squish-squash squish-squash, There's Maggie Thatcher" - I'm not making that up.) but they're symptoms not causes. Thatcher's influence on my generation was polarising, and I - by nature - gravitated into hating the woman, against my own nature.

Anyway back to Hamish. Today he sent me a link. I've never had much time for Russell Brand in the past but the Guardian article Hame pointed me at is beautiful.

if you opposed Thatcher's ideas it was likely because of their lack of compassion, which is really just a word for love. If love is something you cherish, it is hard to glean much joy from death, even in one's enemies.

Perhaps for the first time that explains to me my own struggle with vehemently hating someone when hatred isn't something I understand?

Thatcher's time in power was solely spent diminishing the resources of those who had least for the advancement of those who had most. I know from my own indulgence in selfish behaviour that it's much easier to get what you want if you remove from consideration the effect your actions will have on others.

I find I'm smiling, nodding, and (perhaps) understanding something new. Who knew?

I maintain (as I did on the 8th) that I'd have to be a massive hypocrite to claim to feel anything other than elated at the news that this poisonous, destructive and vile woman has - at long last - departed. I'm many things, but hypocritical isn't one of them. I'm unsettled though to think that - perhaps - my very determination to hate her, is part of the woman's legacy.


Feb 2021
Jan 2021
Dec 2020
Nov 2020
Oct 2020
Sep 2020
Aug 2020
Jul 2020
Jun 2020
May 2020
Apr 2020
Mar 2020
Feb 2020
Jan 2020
Dec 2019
Nov 2019
Oct 2019
Sep 2019
Aug 2019
Jul 2019
Jun 2019
May 2019
Apr 2019
Mar 2019
Feb 2019
Jan 2019
Dec 2018
Nov 2018
Oct 2018
Sep 2018
Aug 2018
Jul 2018
Jun 2018
May 2018
Apr 2018
Mar 2018
Feb 2018
Jan 2018
Dec 2017
Nov 2017
Oct 2017
Sep 2017
Aug 2017
Jul 2017
Jun 2017
May 2017
Apr 2017
Mar 2017
Feb 2017
Jan 2017
Dec 2016
Nov 2016
Oct 2016
Sep 2016
Aug 2016
Jul 2016
Jun 2016
May 2016
Apr 2016
Mar 2016
Feb 2016
Jan 2016
Dec 2015
Nov 2015
Oct 2015
Sep 2015
Aug 2015
Jul 2015
Jun 2015
May 2015
Apr 2015
Mar 2015
Feb 2015
Jan 2015
Dec 2014
Nov 2014
Oct 2014
Sep 2014
Aug 2014
Jul 2014
Jun 2014
May 2014
Apr 2014
Mar 2014
Feb 2014
Jan 2014
Dec 2013
Nov 2013
Oct 2013
Sep 2013
May 2013
Apr 2013
Jan 2013
Nov 2012
Oct 2012
Sep 2012
Aug 2012
Jul 2012
Jun 2012
Apr 2012
Mar 2012
Feb 2012
Jan 2012
Dec 2011
Nov 2011
Oct 2011
Sep 2011
Aug 2011
Jul 2011
Jun 2011
May 2011
Apr 2011
Mar 2011
Feb 2010
Jan 2010
Dec 2009
Nov 2009
Oct 2009
Sep 2009
Aug 2009
Jul 2009
Jun 2009
May 2009
Apr 2009
Mar 2009
Feb 2009
Jan 2009
Dec 2008
Nov 2008
Sep 2008
Aug 2008
Jun 2008
May 2008
Apr 2008
Mar 2008
Feb 2008
Jan 2008
Dec 2007
Nov 2007
Sep 2007
Aug 2007
Jul 2007
Jun 2007
May 2007
Apr 2007
Mar 2007
Feb 2007
Jan 2007
Dec 2006
Nov 2006
Oct 2006
Sep 2006
Aug 2006
Jul 2006
Jun 2006
May 2006
Apr 2006
Mar 2006
Feb 2006
Jan 2006
Dec 2005
Nov 2005
Oct 2005
Sep 2005
Aug 2005
Jul 2005
Jun 2005
May 2005
Apr 2005
Mar 2005
Feb 2005
Jan 2005
Dec 2004
Nov 2004
Oct 2004
Sep 2004
Aug 2004
Jul 2004
Jun 2004
May 2004
Apr 2004
Mar 2004
Feb 2004
Jan 2004
Dec 2003
Nov 2003
Oct 2003
Sep 2003
Aug 2003
Jul 2003
Jun 2003