Exercises

 

Exercises

 

Just a few exercises for the little grey cells.

Q: They can be made, laid down, bent and broken, although it’s difficult to touch them. What are they?

Q: The maker does not need it. The buyer does not use it. The user uses it without knowing. What is it?

 Q: I have neither sister nor brother, but my mother’s daughter is the man’s mother. Who am I?

Q: An aircraft carrying 60 Mexican lawyers to a convention in Rio crashed on the border between Colombia, Venezuela and Brazil. Under International Law, where should the survivors be buried?

Thingummyjigs and what’snames

 

Thingummyjigs and what’snames

Dorothy, on the right, with her elder sister, Edie, and her father, in Folkestone, Kent, about 1936, when she was 18

I first met my future mother-in-law, Dorothy,  when I was seventeen. She was a cheerful, chatty person, who had learnt to make the most of life.

Dorothy as a young mother with her boys, Trevor, left, and Barry, right, in India

 Her first husband died when he was thirty-five. Her second husband, whom she married after both her sons had married and settled, died two years after the marriage. Thus, she spent sixty years of her adult life living alone, but she never complained about the hand fate had dealt her.

Her widow’s pension was small and she decided to return to work. She had expected never to have to work again, but enjoyed the challenge and the friends she made through it. Her social life was built around her working life.

She loved to talk, but conversing with her could be tricky if one hadn’t been in at the beginning of her train of thought. Sometimes, I felt like saying, ‘Give me a clue.’ However, I soon discovered that she repeated herself frequently and topics were revisited exactly word for word, with even the little laughs in the same places. She was easy to listen to, and entertaining, for she enjoyed gentle gossip, though never anything salacious. 

Repetition is not just a function of old age; some young people are very repetitious. Occasionally, I think it’s my fault, and they repeat their tale because they think I haven’t heard, or perhaps I’m not responding enthusiastically or loudly enough.

Dorothy aged 75

Some speakers become so locked into their narrative that they cannot move on from it and must recount every detail. They remind me of people who  struggle gamely through a lengthy joke long after everyone has anticipated the funny ending half-way through. The laughter they anticipated is less hearty than they felt was justified. Thinking the punchline has been misheard or misunderstood, they repeat it, maybe two or three times, while the patient audience tries to respond with the requisite amount of fervour, rictus forming on their aching jaws.

My mother-in-law didn’t tell jokes. She had a good sense of humour but I don’t recall her ever telling a gag. Thinking about her now, I suspect she thought it would not have been very ‘ladylike.’

She took enormous pride in her appearance and was always impeccably groomed. Going clothes shopping with her, which I did frequently, was an unforgettable experience. It was never a short outing, but she loved clothes and was always delighted with her purchases. Any proposed family gathering - wedding, funeral, Christmas - was an excuse to buy a new outfit, and who would blame her, after a solitary, fairly lonely life, if she indulged her passion for style and colour? 

When she reached her nineties, words began to fail her. She had always had difficulty remembering names and often laughed at herself because of that, but then her conversation became peppered with ‘doings’, ‘thingummyjigs’, ‘what’snames,’ and ‘you knows.’ Some of our grandchildren’s names completely escaped her. She could not remember that our dogs were Dalmatians and called them ‘spotted dogs,’ for the bidden word would not come to her lips.

Approximations would be made – for example,  ‘terrestrial television’ became the more heavenly ‘celestial television’ and ‘trolley’ was renamed ‘lorry.’ Someone else I knew of, and much younger than her, referred to ‘Swarfega’ as ‘Swastika.’ (Swarfega is a British brand of heavy-duty hand cleaner.)

There were also almost-associations – a supermarket chain called Morrison’s became William’s. (William Morris was the association, maybe?)

On her 90th birthday

Later, very near the end of her life, when dementia took its cruel hold, she could no longer remember her husbands’ names and lived in the long-ago past, constantly surprised to learn that her parents had died. Ancient transgressions, such as breaking a window, or trespassing on someone’s land, came to the fore and she lived in fear of retribution. Yet, she still recognised that there was ‘something wrong in her head’ as she expressed it, as reality slipped further and further away.

For all that, when or if I reach my mother-in-law’s age, I hope I shall remain as alert, interested and independent as she was until her latter handful of years. After all, what’s in a word?

What’s in a name? that which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.

Black Jacks

 

 Black Jacks

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Thinking about black tongues the other day, I suddenly remembered Black Jacks. They are a British confection that was introduced by Trebor in the 1920s. They had a lovely aniseed taste, still one of my favourite flavours, and were renowned for being chewy and turning your tongue black. That was a delight for young children.

Then I pondered black tongues in general. Giraffes have black tongues, as an aid against sunburn as they spend much time browsing the top branches of trees when, along with mad dogs and Englishmen, they are out in the midday sun. Actually, that’s not true, as giraffes avoid the hotter parts of the day.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Okapi is native to the Democratic Republic of Congo. It is related to the giraffe and is known as the forest giraffe, living and feeding in dense tropical forests. Its other names are Congolese giraffe and zebra giraffe, the latter name because of its striped hind quarters. Its dark tongue is longer than a giraffe’s and is used for browsing and grooming. It shares the same gait as the giraffe, both limbs on one side stepping together, unlike other ungulates (hooved animals) which move their legs alternately. The okapi is an endangered species, being prey to poachers for meat, and also at danger from habitat destruction and warfare.

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Other wild animals with dark tongues include the Giant anteater, which uses its spine-covered long tongue to extract termites, and Malayan Sun bears, whose tongues are used to eat honey and insects from beehives. The Giant anteater’s tongue is extremely long, and highly active, able to flick in and out of the animal’s narrow snout almost three times a second. The anteater has no teeth and restricted jaw movement, so uses its tongue to crush ants against its palate before swallowing them. Its stomach does not produce gastric juices but uses the formic acid of the termites it swallows to digest them.

Black bears’ and Polar bears’ tongues may also be black on the underside. Other bears with black or dark tongues include the Giant Panda, the Sloth, American black bears, and Grizzly bears. Sometimes, tongues appear black because of the animal’s diet.

Jersey cow
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Among domestic animals, some cattle, notably the Jersey and Angus breeds, have black tongues. Usually, those with black tongues have darker coats. Jersey and Angus cows do not carry the gene for pink tongues, so a calf with a black tongue born to another breed may have inherited it from Jersey or Angus predecessors.

Chow Chow
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

In the canine world, Chow Chows have blue-black tongues. They are a Chinese breed of large dog with thick, double coats, and were originally bred to guard, hunt, and herd. They are known to be loyal and independent. As puppies, their tongues are pink, becoming darker when they are about nine or ten weeks old.

One legend about the dark tongue of a Chow Chow says that when the sky was being painted, the dogs licked up the spilt blue drops. Another says that an ill monk asked a Chow Chow to collect firewood and the dog’s tongue turned black from licking the charred wood. That doesn’t make a lot of sense, for surely the dog would not be collecting burning wood. I think something may have been lost in the translation there.

A livelier story has the Chow Chow hating the darkness of nighttime and trying to lick away the blackness of the evil, dark spirits.

Shar Pei puppies
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Shar Pei is another ancient Chinese dog breed, notable for its much-wrinkled skin and dark tongue. Like the Chow Chow, it was originally bred to guard and to hunt, and was also used in dog fighting. The wrinkles in its skin were a protection in fighting, preventing an opponent gaining a firm grip. It is a medium-sized dog and is loyal and protective of its family.

Blackbird in honeysuckle, Crowthorne

It is not clear why some animals in extremely hot environments have black tongues, while others do not. Similarly, some birds, even in temperate climates, have black tongues. Blackbirds have black tongues, but their relatives, the Thrushes, have tongues that are pink.

I’m sure someone somewhere is preparing a thesis on tongue pigmentation!

 

Patio flowers

A few patio flowers in late June

Feijoa, grown from seed many years ago. Beautiful flowers, but no fruit

Angelonia, or summer snapdragon, just planted out., It will grow tall!

Calendula, or pot Marigold,.yellow version. We have orange, too.

Hydrangea, ripening.

Hydrangea, promising more to come.

Hydrangea, up close and personal.

Another Hydrangea, blue this time.

Lavatera 'Barnsley Baby'

Comma

 

Comma

While working in the garden this week, we saw a Comma butterfly (Polygonia c-album)  They are quite common but this one came to rest on a newly planted pot. The soil was very wet and I wondered if it had landed there for a drink. It stayed for a short while, then fluttered away.

The Comma is one of the first butterflies to be seen, appearing from late February. They are common throughout the summer. Much of the males’ time is spent looking for a mate. Females mate with several males and will always choose well-fed healthy males. Favoured foodplants include the common nettle, elms, currants and willow, but nettle leaves are the most popular places for females to lay their eggs.

Comma in a previous year on Verbena bonariensis

A century ago, the Comma was a rare sight, but it is now widespread throughout England and Wales and is expanding ever northwards, spreading rapidly in Scotland, and making occasional appearances in Northern Ireland. Its relatively recent success is ascribed to climate change.

Showing underside of wing

Image cropped to show comma 

Courtesy Wikimedia Commons

It is called the Comma because it has a white comma mark on its underwing. At rest, it resembles a dried leaf, which makes it difficult to spot when it’s on a tree or hibernating. Although early adult butterflies generally live for about a month, there are two breeding cycles. The later, summer breeding produces butterflies which hibernate, emerging the following spring to produce the next generation. In late summer adults preparing to hibernate can be seen feasting on blackberries and over-ripe plums to build up their reserves for the winter ahead.

Which came first?

 

Which came first?

Wellington College

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I live in Berkshire, England, in a place called Crowthorne. It is a village, although the part we live in is actually Wokingham Without, though what it lacks is not specified.

The village is quite large and is not an attractive, chocolate box spot with thatched roofs and roses round the door. Photographs of it will never appear on festive tins of shortbread. It’s more of a place people travel through to reach somewhere else. Since the bypass was built, more than thirty years ago, most travellers now don’t have to go anywhere near it.

Crowthorne is known mainly for two institutions, at either end of the village. Wellington College, situated on four hundred acres near the station, which was specifically built to serve it, was originally a boys’ independent school but is now fully co-educational. It educates around 1100 students between the ages of thirteen and eighteen, who enjoy superb facilities. Known principally as a boarding school, it also accommodates day pupils. In common with many such establishments, its facilities are shared with the local community and offer employment to local people. Boarding fees are around £51,000 per annum. Day school fees are about £36,000.

Old Broadmoor Hospital

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

At the other end of the village, bordering the forest, is Broadmoor Hospital, the best-known of England’s three high-security psychiatric hospitals. Though principally known as a secure environment for dangerous criminals, it also treats men who have never been convicted of criminal activity, but who pose a grave risk to themselves and/or others. It has an annual turn-over of about fifty men and the average age at admission is twenty-nine. Some stay for only a brief period, others are discharged after five or six years. A small percentage, around 5%, remain at the hospital for more than twenty years.

Some of the more notorious inpatients have included the Yorkshire Ripper, who spent thirty years in Broadmoor and the gangster, Ronnie Kray, both now dead.

Current inmates include Michael Adebowale, convicted for murdering the British soldier, Lee Rigby, in 2013, and Ian Ball, who was found guilty of attempting to kidnap Princess Anne, now the Princess Royal, in 1974.

One of the most interesting inmates was a retired American Army surgeon, W.C. Minor. He fought in the American Civil War and afterwards moved to England. He suffered from delusions and shot a man he suspected of breaking into his room. He was not considered dangerous, but even so spent thirty-eight years in the hospital, before being deported to the USA, where he died in Connecticut in 1920.

While at Broadmoor, he was able to buy books from London booksellers and became aware of the call for entries to what would become the Oxford English Dictionary.

Robert Maudsley is a serial murderer once held in Broadmoor. He was the inspiration for Hannibal Lecter.

It costs between £200,000 to £300,000 per annum to accommodate a single patient in Broadmoor. The warders, officially known as nurses, are tough individuals and interesting characters to talk to. We sometimes meet one or two when we’re out with the dogs. They often prove to have an enduring sense of humour, rather necessary when dealing with damaged minds. It’s hard to find humanity in some who have committed heinous crimes, but, as the Quakers advise, we must strive to find ‘that of God’ in every human being.

A new hospital building was opened in 2019, after six years of construction. The old hospital was a forbidding-looking red brick Victorian building, which was considered to be no longer effective for modern psychiatric treatment. The new building is light and airy, with attractive gardens. The aim is to rehabilitate patients, not punish them for being ill.

Plans for the old building, which is Grade II listed and cannot be demolished without official consent, include redeveloping the sixty acre site, with new homes and new apartments for older people, converting fifty-six apartments in the original building, and providing a care home for sixty people. 

When we first moved to Crowthorne and for many years after, 10.00 am on a Monday morning was the time for the Broadmoor klaxon to be tested. People set their watches by it. The sirens were decommissioned around 2018, to be replaced by alerts through social media, radio, and television. I’m not sure how effective those alerts are. Not everyone listens to local radio or watches television. I suppose mobile ‘phones are better equipped to warn people, but I still think a wailing siren is harder to ignore.

Escapes are rare. The last serious one was attempted by a child rapist in 1991. Road blocks were set up and all vehicles were stopped and checked. Barry had just arrived at the forest, ready for a run with the dogs. On the track leading into the trees, the police had erected a tape, on the understanding, presumably, that no-one escaping would think to go either side of it. They stopped Barry and showed him a photograph of the inmate and said, ‘If you see him, run back here and tell us.’

Barry didn’t see him, and the patient was recaptured two days later.

So, which came first? Both were Victorian establishments.

Broadmoor Hospital was built in 1863, and the first patients were women.

The foundation stone for Wellington College was laid by Queen Victoria in 1856, and the first pupils entered in 1859. It was built as a monument to the Duke of Wellington, the ‘Iron Duke,’ and was intended to educate the orphaned sons of army officers killed in battle. 

(Can you be an orphan if one parent is still alive? You can if the deceased parent was the major family support.)

 

 

 

More humour

Q: What do you call a boomerang that doesn’t come back?

A:  A stick.

 Q: What lies at the bottom of the ocean and twitches?

A:  A nervous wreck.

 

Q: Why don’t skeletons fight each other?

A: They haven’t got the guts.

 

Q: What’s the difference between roast beef and pea soup?

A: Anyone can roast beef.

 

Q: What do you get when you cross a snowman with a vampire?

A: Frostbite.

 

A different visit

 

A different visit

My appointment was for 11:15. I arrived early, booked in, and sat down. Almost immediately my name was called, and I was optimistic that the whole event would soon be completed. After the vision test, and eye pressure check, stinging drops were applied, and I was directed elsewhere.

Along with several others, I sat and waited, and after some time someone official appeared, full of apologies for the delays we were experiencing – too many patients, too few staff, immediate referrals appearing, and so on and so forth. We murmured our thanks for the update.

Anyway, what should have taken a short time – fifteen minutes or so – extended to three hours. Meanwhile, Barry was waiting in the car, listening to a book about Rommel – he had a pet fox, did you know?

Now we’re at home again and Barry, not known for his patience, is trying to self-refer for a hearing test. He is not having much success and is ranting about the poor IT. This is a common complaint and tries my tolerance. It tries his even more. He spent his working life developing large IT systems and knows they should be debugged before being rolled out. The NHS is particularly bad in its operation.

I have been telling him for some time that his hearing is not as good as it used to be. It is quite difficult to converse with him sometimes because he often gives the impression that he hasn’t heard, or, worse, is ignoring me, when he is simply thinking about his answer or something else entirely.

 However, he didn’t ignore me when I pointed out his less than perfect hearing, but neither did he decide to do anything about it, until one of his electronic devices (his ear buds) alerted him to the fact that his hearing is not as acute as it should be. Now, research is ongoing into hearing aids – reviews, reports, problems and so on and so forth . . . and booking a hearing test.

The problem, and it is a valid one, is that he likes to pin everything down so there are no misunderstandings, but in the process ties everyone up in knots with the details.

 Some would call it nit-picking! I don’t because I know he is seeking answers. Most people are extremely helpful, but occasionally, for after all, people are only human, a little irritation creeps in. The most accommodating people are those who understand the questions and can answer them fully and succinctly.

Update: He now has an appointment to see a doctor – that in itself is a minor miracle! – on 2^nd July, despite the fact that, and I quote, ‘Individuals over 55 can access free NHS hearing aids and related services through a self-referral pathway for age-relate hearing loss, meaning they don’t need a GP referral if they meet specific criteria.’

Maybe they just want to ascertain that it’s not something else that’s creating the problem. He’s quite sure the hearing discrepancy in his left ear is from his time as a soldier, shooting his rifle left-handed.

 I suggested that he will probably not opt for free hearing aids. I know him well and he will want need something he can fine-tune. He says he would use NHS aids as spares.

We shall see.

 

Krait

                                    Banded krait (Bungarus baluensis)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Every morning, I complete a few puzzles in the Times online – Sudoku, Polygon, Codeword – nothing too taxing, just a wake-up for my brain, while I enjoy a cup of hot chocolate.

Polygon gives a selection of between seven and ten letters from which words can be made. The words may be three or four letters long according to the title. The rules are simple – the central letter of the polygon must be included in each word, no plurals are permitted, and the answers must be in the Concise Oxford Dictionary.

Today, the eight letters were A, E, I, I, K, R, Y with central letter T. It should be possible to generate 29 four-letter words, each including T. How many can you create? There is always at least one word which uses all the letters.

One word I found was KRAIT.

Kraits are a class of extremely venomous snakes indigenous to South Asia. They inhabit a variety of environments, from tropical jungle to cultivated farmland, and are likely to be found near water sources, like canals and ponds. They are nocturnal, preying on other snakes, small rodents, and birds.

There are commonly reports of people being bitten at night while sleeping on the ground. Some bites are ‘dry’ bites, not involving venom. Kraits have small fangs, and their bites do not leave noticeable marks or swelling.

A bite involving poison will affect the victim within two hours, the first signs being an inability to see or speak, stomach cramps, and breathlessness. Left untreated, the condition rapidly worsens, leading to death in around five hours. Antivenoms can be of use if administered soon after a bite has been reported.

Tyke and its variant, tike, were quickly discovered. I’ve always understood tyke to be a lively child, but found that in the past it was used to describe ‘an unpleasant or coarse man.’

Trey is a playing card, domino or die with three spots, or a play scoring three points in a card, domino or dice game. In the USA it refers, or used to refer, to a shot which scores three points in basketball. Trey is also a name given to a third child or one whose birthday falls on the third day of a month, as well as the third recipient of a family name, like John Smith III.

The third tine of a deer’s antler is called a trey.

June 21st

 

June 21^st

                                Masai giraffe (Giraffa tippelskirchi) 

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

Many will be marking the Summer Solstice on 21^st June, but it is also World Giraffe Day, also known as International Giraffe Day. This day was inaugurated by the Giraffe Conservation Foundation (GCF) in 2014 as an occasion to acclaim the tallest animal in the world. It is appropriate that the tallest animal should be associated with the Longest Day.

Giraffe populations have been in decline since 1985 and there are currently only about 117,000 animals left in the wild. This is known as a ‘silent extinction’ because it’s occurring gradually, without much notice.

Giraffes can be seen in sub-Saharan Africa, their major habitats being grasslands and open woodlands in which acacia trees grow abundantly. Giraffes favour acacia trees!

A giraffe is a giraffe is a giraffe, right? That is largely accurate, but there are at least four distinct species. As with all things scientific, knowledge increases over time, and so some zoologists argue for further subdivision.

Masai and Reticulated giraffes are the species of least concern. The Masai are found in Kenya and Tanzania, and the Reticulated giraffes live in southern Ethiopia, Somalia, and northern Kenya.

Detail of Masai giraffe's coat  

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Masai giraffe (Giraffa tippelskirchi) has large irregular patches of coloured fur on its body and can reach heights up to six metres, the bulls being taller and heavier than the cows. It is the largest of the giraffes.

                            Reticulated giraffe (Giraffa reticulata)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Reticulated giraffe (Giraffa reticulata) is often seen in zoos. Its coat pattern is very different to the Masai giraffe, with clear lighter markings between the reddish-brown squared-off patches, giving the appearance of a net.

The two most endangered species of giraffe are the Northern giraffe and the Southern giraffe.

Northern giraffe (Giraffa camelopardalis)
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Northern giraffe (Giraffa camelopardalis) has suffered many local extinctions and is extremely vulnerable. It lives in protected and unprotected areas in Kenya and Uganda. In unprotected areas, the adults are most at risk, perhaps from poaching, but in protected areas, the young are vulnerable to predation.

Southern giraffe (Giraffa giraffa)
Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

The Southern giraffe (Giraffa giraffa) is mostly seen in southern Africa.

Giraffes have long, prehensile tongues, which are used for tearing leaves from trees. Their tongues are dark, to avoid sunburn, because they spend much of their time browsing. While the front of the tongue is black or purple, the back of the tongue, which remains in the mouth, is pink.

Giraffes are pregnant for about fifteen months and often remove themselves from the rest of the herd to give birth, thus offering a measure of protection from predators.

New-born giraffes calves are about the height of an adult man and are able to run within hours of birth. This is essential in an environment in which they are in danger from predators.

Giraffes can live for thirty years in the wild. Each giraffe’s coat pattern is unique, just as each human’s fingerprints are unique.

2025 Ospreys

 

2025 Ospreys

Osprey (Pandion haliaetus)

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

I haven’t looked at all the UK sites, but this year seems to be a better year for Ospreys than 2024. The Loch Arkaig pair, Louis and Dorcha, hatched three eggs, but one chick perished, cause unknown. The remaining two osplets look healthy and vigorous.

In Manton Bay, in Rutland, the nest site has been occupied each year by the same female, Maya, since 2010. An experienced parent, she has raised four chicks this year, with the mate she has had since 2015.

The Poole Harbour ospreys have also successfully raised four chicks, but at Loch of the Lowes, both eggs were lost, predated by crows. The breeding pair here was inexperienced.

When the birds depart in August or September for their winter grounds, they do not retain their pair bond. The siblings do not maintain family connections, either. When or if the adults return in March or April, they will go back to their familiar sites and resume their relationship.

Osprey chicks or Osplets, five weeks old

Image courtesy Wikimedia Commons

About 70% of osplets will not survive to the age of three, when ospreys start breeding. However, there are now about three hundred breeding pairs in UK, a huge recovery from the extinction they suffered in the 1880s. The first ospreys to return to Scotland arrived from Scandinavia in the 1950s and numbers have gradually increased.

Ospreys are still rarer than Golden Eagles.

 Togetherness

Togetherness, or Possession is nine-tenths of the law.

The Giver

 

The Giver

I don’t read much Young Adult (YA) literature but chanced upon ‘The Giver’ by Lois Lowry. Published in 1993 and receiving the Newbery Medal a year later, it is a short dystopian novel, dealing with a managed society in which no-one is allowed to experience deep emotion, or to learn about history. Society does not operate independently or democratically.

When children reach the age of twelve, they are assigned their lifelong tasks by the Elders. For example, if girls are appointed as Birth mothers, they will bear three children, and then become labourers. Babies are assigned to family units. Adults are matched with appropriate partners. There is no love, romance, courtship, or choice. In order to combat ‘stirrings’ of emotions, a daily pill is taken to suppress them.

Nurturers look after newborn babies. Other people live their lives cleaning up.

Jonas, the ‘hero’ of the book, is called to be a Receiver. In that role, he receives all the memories hidden from the rest of his community, and learns about pain, colour, hunger, happiness, and family. In time he will become the Giver of memories.

Inevitably, he decides to escape and takes with him the baby Gabriel, who has been destined to be ‘released’ because he is not considered strong enough to live in the community. They set off on an arduous journey to reach ‘Elsewhere,’ an unknown location.

The story feels like a slighter form of George Orwell’s powerful novel, ‘1984.’  It comes to an abrupt and unsatisfying end, when Jonas and Gabriel, cold and starving, see colour and warmth in a cottage at the foot of a steep, snowy slope.

It was interesting to read the author’s comments at the end of the book. She claimed that the ending was deliberately ambiguous and then wrote sequels to the book in later years.

It is not a book I would recommend. It starts well, but runs out of ideas once the hero leaves his secure environment, as though the original premise was exciting but had not been thought through thoroughly.

Have you read this book? What did you think?

The Mystery

 

The Mystery

If we want to freshen the air in the house, we open all the windows and have a good breeze running through. I also have reed diffusers in the porch and the cloakroom with a citrus scent. These give a subtle, unobtrusive, fresh, warm smell.

On Friday, the day before Bethan and Robert were due to visit us, I noticed an unpleasant smell in the sitting room. I had recently bought a different diffuser. It was so strong that the aroma caught in the back of my throat and gave me a headache. I moved it to the porch, where it continued to choke me when I went to the front door.

I tried a different one, which smelt fresher, but again, it eventually irritated my throat.

We wondered if there had been a chemical reaction somehow, though with what we couldn’t imagine. Eventually, I put the diffusers in the garden, but the nauseating smell remained indoors. Meanwhile, Barry took the dogs out for a walk, leaving me to continue last minute tasks.

I thought the revolting smell might be coming in from outside, and wondered if maybe it was the drains, so I shut the patio doors. The smell remained. I opened the doors again to allow some fresh air in. The smell seemed to gain in intensity, and I could not pinpoint the source.

When Bethan ‘phoned to say they were on their way, I thought that I must warn her of the awful smell. That way they could change their plans if they decided they didn’t want to share the odour with us. I would have understood completely, and rather fancied being somewhere else entirely myself.

However, they continued their journey and arrived just after midday. They noticed the smell – how could they not? – but said it was not as disgusting as I had suggested.

We had a very pleasant day together, but the smell lingered, and I was sure it was increasing. Just before Bethan and Robert left to return home, they traced the smell to a cupboard housing electronic equipment. Opening its doors released an almost overpowering malodorous stench.

As soon as the front door had closed behind them, Barry put on his head torch and started searching. There was nothing in the cupboard that shouldn’t be there, but on the floor behind it, among the wires, was the decomposing body of a mouse. It was swiftly removed and consigned to the bin and the smell dissipated almost immediately.

I believe we have Jellicoe to thank for this unexpected and undesirable gift. When he catches mice, he likes to bring them into the house. They are not always extinct. Obviously, he had brought one in while we were not in the room and it had had enough strength to escape, only to die behind the cupboard, poor little thing.

We are relieved that the drains are not problematic and that the floorboards will not have to be lifted. We will continue to do what we did the other day, and that is, to shut the patio door if we are not in the sitting room, to prevent Jellicoe bringing his prizes indoors.

Indeed, a couple of days ago, he was yelling at the door to be let in. As I opened the door, I noticed a lifeless mouse on the patio. Once they are dead, Jellicoe is no longer interested in them. Fortunately, he does not eat them. It’s better than being overrun with mice, anyway.