Ratty's back!

Well I think Ratty’s back. I haven’t told Caroline. She doesn’t read this so she needn’t know. We already know that something had taken a liking to the plastic bag containing my plastic sea shoes – a large six-inch diameter hole appeared in it one morning. Now I find a whole slice of bread at the other end of the house, close to where the large hole in the ceiling had been covered, following the previous invasion. I don’t want to see it. I don’t particularly want to catch it. I think IT is probably THEM anyway; so when I get up in the night I whistle, as loudly as I can. I don’t know what the neighbours think and it doesn’t wake the rooster (bless him!) and – touch wood – I haven’t met a rat yet. So, Les, if you’re reading; the humane, sonar, anti-rat device works. Just whistle!

Well. I wasn’t going to tell Adrian, but the last cake left out on the table last night was, this morning, behind the chairs on the floor! I also had my suspicions about it/them still being around but I thought as long as I didn’t see it, I’d stay sane. I do miss my pets, Jack, Holly and Lucy on mornings like this, but there have been so many things to think about, that that hasn’t been often.

Things to think about like: walking down our street – Machoya Drive – where our fellow tutors live and usually their children greet us with “Hi” or less often “Shikamoo”. Today, a young woman came to the door, raised her arms, I assumed  to wave at us; but, no, she was throwing a hen out of her house!