We had mice. We could hear them, making their
scratchy noises in the cupboards and the stairwell. But we
couldn’t see them, and so, for a while, we pretended
they weren’t there. Then we saw them. They were in the
food cupboard. We opened it, and there they were. But it’s
not as if they’d eaten any of the food. They were just
shitting on it. That’s probably what thieves would do
if they tunnelled into a bank and found that all the money
was in tin cans. At first, catching mice is ultra-difficult.
When you make a grab for a mouse (always wearing thorn-proof
gardening gloves), it can leap in more or less any direction.
It can get through a hole the size of a finger. After a while,
though, when you think you’ve cornered the mouse, you
usually have. The thing with mice is that, when you see them,
your heart sinks. In a strange way, though, they are life-enhancing.
Imagine how much the average family would pay for a device
that gets everybody running around, laughing and shrieking,
and saying ‘he’s in there!’ over and over.
A mouse, for some reason, is always male.
Anyway, what I needed was a particular type of bucket - one
that is oversized, and can be held shut at the top. You wouldn’t
think it, but mice can easily leap out of a bucket. Luckily,
you can get the perfect mouse-catching bucket from King’s
Framers in the High Street. Typical Lewes, that, isn’t
it? I may have mice, but at least I catch them in a bucket
from an art shop. I caught four. For the moment, they’ve
gone quiet. I’ll miss them. WL