"Keep away" - tales of mice and men

" Keep away, unclean, unclean." We don't have a cross painted on our door, so we've put up our own notice. Frank was sick twice in the night, and it could be hospitalisation if it happens again. With diabetes, his blood sugars could hit the far north or south, compounded by the effects of dehydration, so we're keeping a close eye on him. Our house was buzzing last night, as we dealt with Frank, and the mounds of laundry precipitated by the sickness. We e-mailed all our National Childbirth Trust contacts to cancel the Open House we had planned to host this afternoon. Some people have come to the door and turned away! We're sealed up in our Plague House, spring loaded to take ourselves up the hospital ( we have 24-hour open access for Frank, yipee) so that he can be more closely monitored than we could manage at home.

Meanwhile, in a garage not ten yards away, there's something else spring loaded. Like an arsenal of cannons lined up on the cliffs against an armada, we have five mouse traps set, to deal with the winter invasion from their summer home in the compost heap. I feed my furry little friends Asda's least finest chocolate, as they take the sweet treat from the trigger, without releasing the trap. I don't know how they do it, as I catch my own fingers many times as I set the traps. I have given them about thirty portions of chocolate and caught four mice, which is probably about the same success rate that multi-million pound warheads achieve.

It's a waiting game, wondering if there's any more mice on their way, and where we ourselves will be staying tonight. Good night all.