Squeak

Having seen over 70 Year 9s through learning the keyboard riffs to at least one piece of music, I've had enough of Coldplay for a bit. So I'm playing Schumann lieder again, even though the first on the CD is Melancholie and I avoid such a feeling.

I called in for various fruit and veg on the way home, put on a cob of sweetcorn to cook and brought a fig through here to eat in the meantime. I heard rustling in the cupboard (where we keep the coal scuttle and log basket in the winter) and then some clattering and, finally, an anxious squeak. There was nothing for it. I'd have to face the mousetrap.

Fortunately, the mouse, though caught by a paw, didn't look too badly injured - that is, no blood. And it's a plastic trap. So I picked the trap up. The poor mouse clung on with its other paws. When I let it go it crouched for a minute in the long grass before running off. I should have taken it further from the house, I hope it won't come back, but I didn't want to prolong its pain and fear, and I didn't much want to take it out of the trap and hold it in my hand. Unfortunately, there's no way of keeping mice out of an old house like this - too many chinks. And you can't just ignore them or you'd be overrun.

No, we don't set humane traps. Sorry. This will change. Disposing of a dead mouse is one thing, but a frightened little living thing - you identify with it and warm to it. We'll still have to put mouse traps in the attic, because it would be worse to trap a mouse and not visit it within a short time, but downstairs it will be humane traps from now on, even if they do come back in again. *Sigh*

The Sage has had a fabulous week. He bought another item on ebay and visited two more people and phoned another who are not only old friends (truly, the main reason for the visits) but promising contacts for future auctions. He's all happy, which means I am too.