Letting the Mice Out of the Bag

I haven't written a diary for a fortnight, mainly due to the moral
tussles I have been having with myself over diary contents. It was
suggested that I OK it with the people who feature in my diaries and so
I asked the kids if they minded. The question was greeted with shrugs
and requests for money and chocolate. I took this to mean they didn't
object.

Various things have happened in the past two weeks. Today I tried to
run over my next door neighbour's moped. I couldn't see it out of the
rear van window and didn't notice it was parked right behind the van as
I rushed out and leapt into the driving seat afraid I would be late for
acupuncture.

Unfortunately my neighbour heard the clunking and grinding and dashed
out with a worried look on his face. Fortunately after the moped was
disentangled from the rear bumper and tow bar there was no apparent
damage. The incident made me feel slightly hysterical and I hope I
concealed this from my neighbour. I apologised profusely.

The neighbours really do have enough on their minds at the moment what
with the Rodent Invasion. The Man at the Bottom (as he is known) whose
garden ends onto to our gardens decided to take down his aviary. This
aviary has been up for many years and all the local cats congregate on
the roof and peer down at the caged birds for hours on end. The kids
call the aviary Cats' TV. However none of us were prepared for the
instant rehoming of hundreds of fieldmice who had been nesting under
the aviary in cosy splendour.

I heard a lot of screaming from next door where the three female
inmates are all blessed with mouse phobia. It appears that all the
evicted mice had headed straight for next door's shed. There was
something Hitchcockian about the scene. Some had sneaked up the alley
and hopefully made new homes inside next door's Wellington boots. Hours
of shrieking followed and shouted counts rang out over the fence. Mice
12 and 13 scuttled across the patio in front of the French windows
while my neighbour was ironing. Mice 17 - 23 were swept out of the
alley with a broom. Otto the cat murdered Mice 24, 25 and 27.

The council pest control man was summoned and found it "inappropriate
to poison". I found myself wondering if he had been on a training
course in long words.

I peered down my garden and began to wonder why no mice had invaded us.
It's puzzling me but I am really too busy being housewife of the year
to spend too much time pondering it. The boyfriend has been living here
you see, covering my table with his paraphernalia and I have had to do
domestic things like cooking and so on in order to impress him. I never
knew I could make a sausage hotpot (without a recipe either). I have
quite staggered myself with my domesticity. I even washed the kettle. I
am quite enjoying the change though I wouldn't really want him to run
away with the idea that this is how I am. It's more of Housewife
Holiday.

I am quite disturbingly calm and happy. My acupuncturist is pleased
that I am such a good and responsive patient. She is treating my liver
line at the moment. I tell Hoxtoneye this when I meet him for an
afternoon beer. We enjoyably carp about the threads and gossip about
everything. We reminisce about how we met on the ABC Letters Academy
course in January. As he is a relative newcomer I tell him all about
how it used to be in the old days. We eat baguettes and fries and drink
more beer.

As I write this at my desk I hear through the open window that mouse 47
is trying to gain entry to next door's kitchen right under the nose of
Otto the cat. Otto seems to have had his fill. Still no sign of any
mice here at no. 17. I wonder at certain accusations about me being a
witch. Hmm.