On going out to supper last night a Mouse was Spotted. Amidst the screaming and scraping back of chairs as nervous adults peered under the table, was reminded of Fun Time With Mouse when living in Suffolk a few years ago.
Imagine. Lovely farm house. Cosy kitchen with beams and an Aga. And a rather curious little room, solely for Telephone. Just off the kitchen. With Glass Door that Slid.
House was rented or we would have hurled ourselves at Glass Door and destroyed it. But we didn't, and so there it remained.
Was on phone one evening talking to friend. Feet got a little chilly so felt about on floor for my slippers. Huge, sheepskin, fluffy Nonsenses of Slippers. But damned warm and cosy. Found them with my foot, and slipped them on. One was a little bit smaller than normal.
Strange I thought.
Carried on talking to friend.
Some minutes later, puzzled by smallness of slipper, which normally has Roomy Dimensions, took it off.
Blow me down, if a large brown mouse didn't jump out and start running round the Small Room Housing the Telephone.
I think friend's Ear has Damage for Life.
Screams reached the Far Posts of County. Eldest came tearing in.
What?What?What?What? he screamed. Looking through Glass Door. Eyes like saucers.
By this time I was Screaming Very Loudly Indeed and Trying to Gain Height, away from Floor and Mouse. Trouble was, there was one chair and quite a low roof.
Hit head Quite Severely on Roof in bid for Escape.
Somewhere at end of telephone line I could hear friend going
Panted and yelled and screamed into phone.
No words. Just Big Noisy Sounds.
Friend extremely worried.
Managed to slide back door with aid of Eldest and Make My Escape into Kitchen. Eldest meanwhile opened Back Door and managed to get the Bastard Mouse of All Times Out.
Took about ten minutes, Literally, to stop Hysterical and Unattractive Laughter.
Another five to stop Shaking like unset jelly.
And another five to ring back Poor Friend to Explain.
Bugger Me, friend said.
Thought you'd been Murdered.
Sorreee, I said. Giggling.
Kept giggling for days.
Reaction, you know.
Post Traumatic Mouse Disorder.