London Diary




"on catching mice .i."

Man, oh man, what a catch!
Sure, I usually recognize a good idea when I see it ... but would I ever have bet my precious money on this one being that effective?
Of course they did not dare to show when I was still up and running, but after I dimmed the lights last night and closed the door separating the kitchen from the bedsit part, temptation got the best of the little buggers.

I like to imagine it happening like in one of those 'Tom & Jerry' cartoons: the thickly blue-ish fragrance of the cheddar twirling up into the kitchen air, then slowling curling down, proceeding low along the tiles, entering the creaks of the skirting boards and on into those pointed sniffing snouts. Can you picture them? Getting all excited, all worked-up, there in their nasty damp&dust-dirty little holes? Constantly torn between fear and desire? Until finally a first and audacious one slips out onto the kitchen floor and all trembles and almost despite himself sniffs his way through the dark towards the source of the smell, that big white cardboard box, right over there ... He then starts turning around and around it, still not sure whether this is really a sensible thing to do. Maybe at some point gets up on his hindlegs, trying to peep over the verge. Approaching, retreating, approaching again, for the moment still jumping at the faintest of sounds. But all seems to be clear, and in the end he sneaks his way up to the lid, where he finds himself face to face with that tasty, juicy little lump.
It is then that all of a sudden the warning signals fade. All remaining care, all fear seems to have been wiped, cleared, it disappears from his system like water through a drain. And the little guy leaps forward, about to fulfil his 'wildest dream'...
I think I know pretty well how it feels to be that mouse ...
Me, and what made me end up in this here basement... ain't it just as pathetic...?