Interest

The lane outside the house was thickly layered with ice, and the field was full of hares. I decided to pop Hugo in the car and take him down to the college grounds for a run rather than risk a broken hip or a massacre. I hadn't put it away in the garage the night before so it had frozen over, but the strong sunlight was melting it. As I turned the key it was evident that the battery was flat and the car would not start. Apparently a door was open somewhere. Sure enough the boot had not closed properly, and then I remembered that the car wouldn't lock the evening before though I flicked the fob twice, and then I got distracted and forgot to find out why. How easy our lives are, many of us. I rang the breakdown people and they sent out a man, just like that. And while he was charging it up and we chatted I looked inside the garage and saw a very large and very dead rat stretched out across my bags of kindling. I screamed the f word, and leant up against the gate, my heart thumping. And the man said what's up? And I said how are you with rats? And he said he hated them, but he's a man and he's six foot six, so he did what he knew he'd have to do and threw the thing over the hedge into the field. The rat must have found the eight or so little boxes filled with poison that I had for the invasion of tiny field mice in the house, and it had gorged itself. The stuff of nightmares.

The day was so nice that, when I'd recovered my poise, I ate my lunch in the summerhouse, and later we were joined by David, and after that by Frances. What a joy friends are, and how Hugo appreciates being made a fuss of. The afternoon and evening were clear and calm, and I'm still getting used to it being light towards 6pm. Eventually we made our way indoors and turned on the lights. Every day brings something different, no two the same. A rat, a flat battery, visitors both expected and unexpected. You have to take them as they come, and if one isn't to your taste the chances are that the next one will be.