Tree or three?

(Squeamish people: don't read this paragraph)

I am.both happy and saddened to report that the living-room rat is dead. It is safe to go back in. The most alarming part of this sorry tale (tail?) is that while I was watching Eurovision on the sofa last night, and breathing in waves of a nasty aroma, the rat was also on the sofa, at around shoulder height, not six inches from me! Our sofa is rather large, and the poor rat had expired on its final journey, and got caught up in a blanket. I discovered it this morning. It still haunts me. I've given the rat a resting place in the garden, and washed  and dried all the covers, opened the windows, lit my Isle of Skye candle, and apologised to the rat. It was only a baby that never asked to be brought in. 

In other news, it was another scorching day. I decided to go to a concert in Nailsworth by bus, but the bus was late, so I missed the first ten minutes. The Bristol Ensemble was performing Mozart's serenade in C minor for woodwind. Wonderful! I hadn't been to the concerts for so long, was glad to be back. 

I had tea in the hall (home made cakes aplenty!) then Steve picked me up, and we went up on Minchinhampton common, Steve to look for skylarks, me just to hang out in the grass and buttercups. 

In the evening, I watched a couple of programmes about the novelist Kazuo Ishiguro. The reorganising of the sofa cushions, covers seemed to take up a long time. I think we need more manageable furniture.