London Diary




"on catching mice .ii."

Not that I actually was able to consciously follow the nightly going-ons in my kitchen. While fate played its diabolical trick on the - yes, why not say it: innocent - mice, I myself was firmly asleep, aided by a small bottle of cheap rhum that I emptied while working on the script for a new video-project.
Also, I have to admit that though being utterly brilliant in principle, the improvised realisation of my trap did suffer from a number of serious flaws.
It were the fear-loaded squeaks and a persistent nervous sound of gnawing and scratching that woke me up early, and I arrived but just in time to prevent the little rodents from biting their way through the cardboard back into freedom again. Moreover they - I counted six (6!) of them - apparently had been forced by nature to urinate excessively in order to try and relax their anxiousness, and the bottom of the box was soakingly wet. When I picked it up, it nearly cracked under their spastic jumpings and tumblings, but I managed to quickly drop it and its contents in an empty aquarium that someone had left in the yard and which I had brought back into the house with the vague intention of some-time using it for some-thing 'artistic'.

I covered the aquarium with two of the pack of wooden book shelves that Brian gave to me the other day, then in the middle I piled up some hardcover books, to make absolutely sure that any other attempt by the mice to escape would fail.
I carried the thing into the bedsit and posed it on the table, next to Burovski's parcel.
What a piece of work!
Some-thing 'artistic', indeed!