Gross

So, I'm sitting in our nearly bare kitchen trying to write a proposal that will hopefully take me to New York to run some training in October – and far more importantly, be able to stock up on some nice American winterwear before coming home in my plush Club seat.

Unfortunately, my eye keeps being drawn to our garden (in its last few weeks of existence before it turns into the kitchen extension) – as its sparse grass is currently covered with a stange bed of greyness. Yes, pigeon feathers, all ripped out by Mojo as she tormented a by-then-bald shitelark before killing it last week. Looks like a duvet has met its end on the lawn…

And now to make it worse, some god awful squeaking has just started to come from the lounge. Made all the louder and more echo-ey as there's no furniture in there. Have had a squint and there's one terrified mouse and one black stalking cat having a ball with it.

Oh no, more desperate noises, going up an octave….. do I rescue it or let nature do its nasty thing? Although Mojo does have a foul habit of then leaving her gifts all over the house – last week's mouse was in the office… Damned if you do and if you don't, but not quite as damned as little Jerry in there…

Gross, gross, gross, gross GROSS Mojo!

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