See The Mice In Their Million Hordes

From Ibiza To The Norfolk Broads*


Could have (should have??) gone away for the weekend for a massive get together down Norfolk way with some very old friends, however the sensible side of me won and I didn't go. I managed to avoid major late night exhibition class binge drinking, no hangovers, no eight hour drives, each way. Feel smug - but feel like a winner and a major loser at the same time.

However, if I'd gone I'd probably have got more sleep than I've had here for the last few days, this bloody cat is driving me to distraction. He sleeps for 90% of the daylit hours, then goes a-huntin' when the rest of us go to bed. Then he brings his victims in, dead or alive. Thursday night, two mice, so he got me up twice, 3am and 5am. Friday night, one mouse, Saturday no mice, or more accurately, no mice found - he was thrashing around the hall making tell-tale sounds but when I got there the mouse was away. What's possibly even more annoying is his trick of coming to the bedroom window and knocking to get in (sans mouse, he's only got one pair of hands after all). 5.00 and again at 6.30 this morning. B*stard.

Then this morning he ambushed me, ran up my leg, knocked the toilet-roll into the loo, knocked stuff off the table into the water bowl and just caused chaos at every turn. I rearranged my recipe books to accomodate Santa's stash, and he jumped into the gap and started to chew and scratch them, although that made me laugh. Then this evening, he slept in the bath rack for an hour while I had a bath and I just forget I'm annoyed with him.




Life On Mars, David Bowie, 1971