Listening to: The great Seamus Heaney on Radio 4
Weather: soggy mess
Sal got back from work this evening, laid a fire while I got the tea ready, kicked off her shoes and slipped into her slippers (well, what else would you do with slippers? Don't answer that, boarding school kids).
Only something had got there first. There was an obstruction.
"Goodness gracious," Mrs P"F" didn't exactly exclaim, holding the slipper at arm's length.
I had a look and inside was an ex-mouse. It had ceased to be, bereft of life it would have been pushing up the daisies if it hadn't found somewhere warm to sleep off an extra large helping of the blue pellets we laid down about a week ago. (I know it's not nice, but we were getting overrun).
I dumped the body in the black bin bag and had a look inside the slipper. The mouse must have been there some time so it was all a little gooey. Sal got busy soaping her foot - I think the slipper may need something a little stronger.
* I was brought up short a week ago when I heard an old friend and colleague had been found dead. Andy Donkersley was a good, decent human being, a bloody fine reporter, diehard Huddersfield Town fan (a proper football club), loyal friend and good company.
I won't go on as my old pal Reg Pither has put it far better than I ever could, but the world is a poorer place for Andy's passing.