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Bl**dy mice

A summer of home extension, incineration, and rebuilding, followed by redecoration and recarpeting meant that our sitting room curtains were folded across the sofas for several weeks - part of an island in the middle of the room around which the sea that is our life could continue and an island which a pair of mice thought would provide a safe haven away from the builders, electricians, plumbers and unwanted attentions of Four-legged-friend. Until this morning ...

When mice set up home, they nest. And nesting means finding lots of soft, fluffy stuff. And if the surroundings aren't soft and fluffy enough, the mice have teeth that can shred and chew and tear until the resulting bed is ideal for snuggling into.

For a pair of mice it's home sweet-curtain-home. Until a human giant comes along, throws the roof off the nest (upper curtain) and scares the sh*t out of you - lots of little black specs of sh*t in a path across the (lower) curtain, over the sofa arm and in a tell tale line to the nearest hole in the floor. Sadly for the mice, the nest is destroyed.

And sadly for the human giant, the curtain is too





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