Pests

Our daily walk down the lane takes us past a very productive blackberry bush, and it is here that Hugo, nowadays always on the extension lead lest he hurtles after a hare, stops and waits. He loves fruit - apples, plums, anything really - and so I pick one for him and one for me, then another each, and then another. Sated, we trot on. It's been a very productive year for fruit, and already the freezer is stacked full of plums from the garden and blackberries from the bottom field. For picking the latter I left the boy at home. The last time we worked the bushes down there he disappeared around a bend and the next thing I heard was a scream that went on and on. When I dashed after him to investigate I found him shaking a very large hare to death. Horrible, but it's inbred in him. He won't get another chance. Anyway, crumbles and pies will grace the winter table when visitors come to stay, especially a caramelised plum flan created by Nigel Slater that resurfaces every year.

I don't normally buy biscuits, but at work we all find we need them after seeing a client or two, and I've started getting them in from time to time. My chosen variety is from the Co-op's Truly Irresistible range, the chocolate and ginger ones. They are all the brand claims for them, delicious cookies stuffed with fresh ginger and lumps of chocolate. I don't eat them in a normal way, but first try to nibble the pieces of chocolate that stick out a little, and then gnaw into the bits I can see but that don't protrude. Then, as my heart starts to race with anticipation and greed, I break them open and pick out the chocolate with my teeth. I end up with the lid of the biscuit tin scattered with small lumps which I then eat slowly, crumb by crumb. Two, I allow myself at any one time, but I don't always listen and have had as many as four in one sitting. But when that happens I only eat the chocolate and leave the crumbs for later. Such are the thrilling activities that make up my life. You get your pleasures where you can.

As Hugo and I lazed on the kitchen sofa yesterday, me reading and him dozing, we were both startled into alertness by the sudden sound of galloping inside the skirting board just behind us. I leapt up and called him to follow, but he was too comfortable. Shoving him off, I hauled the sofa out but could see nothing. When I swept the cobwebs and dust away I found a couple of tiny poos. In the garden room beyond were a few more. So it wasn't just one mouse then, but a whole tribe of meece. I enquired via the online community website about someone to remove them, and got some very interesting suggestions. Surprisingly, to me anyway, the majority were more concerned with the welfare and happiness of the mice than my sensibilities. They were just looking for a warm home for the winter, I was told, and what harm were they doing me? One man advised getting a humane trap and offloading them several miles away. But how would they fare then, alone and far from home, scared and lonely? The local response to other matters has been equally surprising. One man wanting someone to scythe a patch of nettles in his garden was lectured about the benefits of nettles to wildlife, with many pleas to leave them be. Who are these people? They mainly come from Dennington and Badingham, but are they true locals or twee incomers? Surely Suffolk-born country folk aren't going all precious about the evils of a rural life? Haven't they spent their lives annihilating everything that moved?