Wrong Cats & Mousers

His Lordship brought us his first mouse on Tuesday.

At first, I did not realise the significance of the muffled 'mrreeowfff'-ing sound walking in the back door (due to the fact that I have not be gifted with micey things in quite a few years). But then it all came rushing back (the visions of glassware being broken and pre-work mayhem -- but nothing bad happened), as I saw the mousey dropped twitching on the floor -- and so we got treats and we got praised and petted and told that we were brave; and Eamonn in his dressing gown (American translation: terry cloth robe) was most concerned and bemused by the whole thing.

Especially when he realised that it (the mouse) was still breathing. And then he pursed his lips in a most disapproving manner and wrinkled his ickle bitty nosy (giggle). Then he removed the tomatoes from their plastic container on the counter, picked the mouse up by its back leg and deposited it in the tomato container.

'Rescuing' the mouse consisted of taking it to the back door, staring at it for a few minutes in distaste and flipping it in a flinging manner through the air. Poor mouse paused briefly during freefall in a tree before the last little floof into the leaves in the upper garden. There was vehement reprimanding from The Queen Rescue-ess (me) and vexed mewing from the capturer of said rodent, who had been interrupted mid-swat/bat/pounce by the removal of his prize. Going out on a limb here and guessing that Eamonn will not really be interested in going to see The Tale of Despereaux with me...

Final notes on La Mouse: the mouse was lying by the plant potting area (rescued from the leaves by industrious hunter) when we arrived home from work and has been buried under the re-potted rosemary plant.

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Periodically, there is a frantic bit of panic in the house when someone realises that the kitty crunching away at the food area is the Wrong Cat! 'Wrong Cat' alarms lead to a group rescue flit from room to room chasing Arthur (occasionally ending with dirt, leaves and detritus on the temporarily white sofa). We have found that blowing a hair dryer at a Wrong Kitty who refuses to be extracted from under a bed leads to positive results. The key is to have 'catcher' at the other end of the bed who will leap on kitty and make capture instead of being gentle with it. Most of the time it is easy to capture the Wrong Kitty since he is stationary whilst eating and also when he surreptitiously comandeers a piece of furniture for a nap.

One might say, 'Erm... if you just shut the doors and windows, then the Wrong Cat would not invade your space...' But, you see, we like having doors and windows open as that is one of the charming things about living in the country and not next to a dog/rabbit latrine. It is also charming to be able to leave things unlocked if you run across the road to the Farm Shop or the baker's. We like it here!

The Wrong Cat is actually quite sweet (although his coat is nowhere near as silky as that of His Lordship and he does have a biting problem), he is fixed (and therefore does not try to mark the house as his) and he does clean up food that Angus will not eat, but we are trying not to encourage itinerant residence (although Angus seems not to care one way or the other).

We do not take time to photograph interior incursions, but they are quite cute in the garden together and Arthur waits outside the back door every morning for Angus to emerge for his morning constitutional, chirps at Angus and rolls adorably on the ground. Angus generally looks at Arthur as if he is quite simple.

There is at times the need to guard against invasion.

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The abode is coming along quite cosily (and we have been here for 1 month and 1 day now), although there is still some work to be done: soot to be removed from carpet; plant detritus to be burned in garden; pictures to be hung; and LPs to store once Qubes arrive :)

Welcome to the living room. To the viewer's right is the sofa which has been selected by The Wrong Cat for a nesting place (and dirt/leaf deposit) twice this week.








And we head to the dining room, across the entryway. There is still a bit of stacked stuff in here -- this will be stored appropriately when we right Welsh dresser comes along. But the fish seem to like it :)










The kitchen has gotten quite a lot of use since Eamonn is still overcome with joy at having a gas hob (stovetop) and cooks nearly every evening. I am eating far too decadently and shall start cycling to work as soon as I have faith in myself to make the 4 mile trip without looking like something the cat dragged in and/or fainting by 10.30am.









But back to the tour...

Forgot bathroom (with Victorian tub!). Will take pics and add.




Back to entryway and up the stairs. Photo with up-the-stairs perspective failed due to bright light through fab window at top (and because I don't know if my camera will adjust to compensate for this and have no idea where instruction book is at the mo). So no pics of stairs -- let it be simply said that they are lovely and old and creaky and quite steep. Holding on the rail is best. [However, the person who came up with the wallpaper/carpet pattern combination was either blind or stoned. Persons will have to visit for the full effect.]

At top of stairs to right is now where guests have option to sleep (instead of in living room). Knitting machine shall also be set up in there in near future! V. excited!

Book case in hallway with lovely memento designed and handmade by Ms. Susan. To right of this, is study/music room, but photos are impossible at the moment, due to it being the last room to be organised and attacked.

And the master, to left at top of stairs, is extraordinarily-sized for middle-class British houses by and large. His Lordship likes to have so many nooks and crannies to hide and nap in, behind, under.








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Lyndale was in fine fettle one month on, therefore, for our third 'company' visit this weekend -- Richard (aka, Slinky) and Marleen drove up yesterday for the cricket and some cycling and a walk through the wheatfields to The World's End! [See, I missed the last 'company', Keith (aka, Cockney Buddha), since he always waits until I leave to come up to Norwich... sigh. I would like to remind people that this blog is sponsored by the Letter K.]. There also is sadly no photographic evidence of Peter (aka, Freshy), our first houseguest because I was not organised enough to waylay two males who are not too keen on being documented in pleasant pose.

BUT, my camera battery did not die on our outing today with Richard and Marleen :)

We headed to Horsey to see if we could see some seals before the rain came and before they headed back to London.

The outing began just past The Nelson Head (instead of at the windmill -- where we started last time). Despite cloudiness, there was still good enough light to dawdle behind everyone else taking random pictures of flowers and bees (I am totally turning into my parents! Next, I will be taking photos of sunsets and have even planned out several settings... dear me.)Wearing wellies (since I am quite attached to them and don't get to accessorise with them nearly as much as had been hoped) was a wise plan and allowed me greater freedom to venture into the freezing North Sea more than with normal shoes or barefoot would have done. However, they also resulted in a rather cavelier sense of confidence in depth and a bit of water did splash over and into them.

Maybe it was the lack of sunbathing capacity today, or maybe it was just June 7th and seals go somewhere else on June 7th, but we only saw two seals during our sojourn: one in the water, and a single pup on the beach. The other swam along gracefully in the water in actually a very social sort of way.

I am amazed (but then some people are easily amazed) to learn that seal flippers actually have metacarpals and so it looks like little hands in mittens when they scratch their chin or their side. And the same for their back flippers. Fascinating!

Watching seals is indescribably calming.

Sprinkles started on the hike back to the car, but we made it well on the way to Wroxham for some lunch before the Rain-Ex really got a workout.

Marleen and I were 'allowed' to have dessert after eating a lovely lunch of kedgeree.

We are grateful to have such permissive husbands who spoil us.

And now I need a nap in the clean house.

Unless Clare calls to go pick elderflowers for our elderflower wine-making project... :)