57 North

The rain has gone horizontal. We were running the heating for most of August (daytime temperatures often as low as 12 degrees C). The birch trees are losing their leaves without going through the pretty yellow phase. The grass needs cutting but is sitting around in sodden heaps. And the Wood mice (Apodemus sylvaticus) have moved in.

They are beautiful, interesting, and charming creatures. Just not in the kitchen. They don’t even really want to be inside. Unlike normal house mice they don’t eat soap, screwdriver handles, washing-up cloths or rags. They eat seeds.

I just want to be able to say to the silly things that there isn’t going to be a pleasant outcome, so why don’t they move into the abandoned bird box in the corner of the garden instead.

Oh, well.