Thursday April 18, 2019
Tom Winnifrith Postcard - an ode to my ancestral homelands in the Grim North
Photo Article from the Greek Hovel - good news and bad
Photo Article - walking around Stourhead with the Mrs and Joshua, the end of the Booker family memory lane


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Feeling frigging macho as I kill a rat at the Greek Hovel

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- Tom Winnifrith

I thought that I had driven the live rat from the Greek Hovel but as I returned tonight I heard a distinct scuttling noise. A year ago I would have panicked but these days I am just not scared of the little critters any more. And so I picked uo the mini spade I use to clear ash from the fireplace and headed towards the noise.

I saw the rat dart under a pile of rugs. I lifted them ine by one and at rug five there stood the rat - a small thing about three inches long excluding tail - blinking in the light. 

Thwack. I missed. Thwack. I missed again. Thwack. Bullseye. If it was not dead it was almost a gonner and it just lay on its side. I scooped up the corpse, or near corpse, in my spatula and strode outside tossing the little thing off into the darkness for the snakes to gobble up.

I am feeling jolly proud of myself but have promised the Mrs that I shall use the silicon I bought today to fill in all cracks in the walls so that the one habitable room here is 100% rat proof before she comes late next week, But for tonight I shall wallow in the macho pride. Tom the rat killer.


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