When we returned from the parents-in-law after Christmas, it was to discover my posh work laptop bag bizarrely and selectively shredded, as if to provide bedding for: mice. Setting up in the attic the same mousetrap that was so surprisingly useful in catching our last wee infestation had little effect, and I eventually decided that the creature must have moved on to another house in our terrace.
Some hours after the central heating switched off this evening, I was woken up by what sounded like our radiator cooling down: pinking and tapping noises from the metal. Our crazily built house has two-inch-thick “skirting boards”, hiding the central-heating pipes in the ugliest way imaginable in some rooms. This means that the radiator’s feed and drain both disappear into badly cut holes in these long passageways, which are therefore convenient for, say, household pests to inhabit with impunity.
After being roused a second time by what I swear was frenzied scrabbling, I moved the trap into the bedroom. Its ramp collapsed about half an hour ago under the weight of something or other, jolting me awake and driving me downstairs. I reset the ramp before coming here to try to get some proper sleep; meanwhile, K. remains in bed, more annoyed at me than the mouse. Part of me hopes for her sake that we don’t catch anything in the next few hours.