LETTERS FROM JERSEY: Lions, Tigers and bears...oh my!

OK, OK its not so much lions, tigers and bears but living in my house requires you to have a net. This is my house below, as you can see its surrounded by fields.

David Attenborough's headquarters

I am writing this today, because I saw him again last night, a ruddy field mouse staring at me in my lounge. The first time I saw him was November, I screamed had a hissy fit then cried. Appallingly so, and very stereotypical, boys are supposed to sort the wildlife out. So I was feeling sorry for myself, wimpering on a chair. Its hard work at times being on my tod, for many reasons but the David Attenborough fan club really needs to be dealt with by a big boy.
Spiders, dragonflies, field mice and a flamin toad that visits for summer are not my favoured house guests. One morning I even spent breakfast with a baby hedgehog staring at me in the kitchen.

I pray to baby Jesus each evening for a big boy to come rescue me but I think he might be busy dealing with hurricanes, war and famine. Maybe I could write a letter to Santa early and he might send me one.

Well I am here and I have to deal with them, so I took the advice a big boy gave me. I imagine that I am Snow White and they are cartoon woodland creatures, (breaks out into song). So they are no longer creatures to be feared but Mortimer the toad, Boris the hedgehog and Trevor the mouse. The spiders and dragonflies are the groupies for the woodland band. I have a lovely humane pest man who visits me periodically to address the mice.

Don't get me wrong I am not infested, its the perils of country living. Don't be put off visiting me , I can con them into buggering off on a package holiday to Guernsey.

The recommendation by someone for me to get a cat made me screw my face up. You cat lovers out there, I get it; the company I have no doubt is lovely. However for me its a step in the wrong direction. I just don't want to be a middle aged woman with a cat. Ducks whilst cat lovers throw catnip at me. I appreciate that cats are loyal. The Egyptians were clever folk, after all they did essentially invent writing. So their reverence for cats, at the time made sense. Putting someone to death because they nicked the neighbour's tabby, I do, however think was a bit extreme.

The issue is I am not a lover of cats, had the Egyptians met my granny's cat Smokey they too might not of been a fan. Staying with her as a child became like a Bear Grylls survival task. This evil cat used to sit on the door frames, it dive bombed you as you passed, anchoring on to your head. This would continue throughout the night as it hid, like a marine under the bed. I could of won the 1978 bladder holding competition as to go for a wee was a fate worth than death. One foot out the bed and suddenly you would be wearing a painful slipper.