According to the mole catcher, he thinks that there is only ONE mole in the garden. I am calling it the Royal Mole because we have just paid a whopping £70 to get rid of it. Ouch!
As I write this, it is 3.30pm in the afternoon and I have just had my second shower of the day: the heat has been so unbearable for the past few days. It saps your energy: making me tired and a little grumpy ( according to the Mhinisteir, very grumpy). I have been unable to sleep at night since the heatwave began. In fact, it was almost 4am by the time I went to bed this morning. Tiredness doesn’t help my health condition one bit.
Anyway, I had something to look forward to this lunchtime. The hairdresser was due to visit: my second haircut since the lockdown rules were eased. As usual, I was pleased with my haircut. The short bob theme is coming along nicely. The Mhinisteir too had his haircut.
As I was chatting to the hairdresser, I told her about something that I had read in the latest Country Living magazine: that hedgehogs are lactose intolerant! She knew about it! Am I the only one who has been in the dark about Hedgehogs and their dietary needs???
When we first moved to the Vicarage, the garden was covered in molehills. Moles are a big problem where we live – one of the disadvantages of rural living! We got pest control to deal with them as humanely as possible. Very soon, the moleshills were getting fewer until one morning when there was no molehill at all! Hooray!
Two weeks ago, I noticed that the molehills were back! I was disappointed. I didn’t expect them to operate in the Summer!
Another disadvantage of rural living is that it is very expensive. Anyway, the Mhinisteir and I decided to pray over it. So these days, every morning we look out of the window to look out for fresh molehills. So far there are no new ones. We shall keep on praying!!!
On good days, I spend most of my time in my study which is located next to our bedroom. I get a lovely view of the trees in our churchyard often making me feel like as if I am in a rainforest especially during the summer months when the trees are lush with leaves. On bad days, I spend my time in bed snuggled under the duvet with a view of the tombstones in our churchyard reminding me of the fragility of human life.
One day last week as I was working at my desk in the study, I heard an almighty thud. It was loud enough to make me twitch but I was too lazy to investigate. It sounded as if someone had thrown a blunt object at the window. I assumed it was one of the many pigeons that congregate in our garden causing menace. I soon forgot about the loud thud until I opened our front door. There lay the lifeless body of a small garden bird. It made me sad. The sadness quickly turned to anger. Could he not have been a little more careful? Maybe a little less playful???
RIP little bird.