We are not alone..

After (another) day of being held hostage in my own home by a) Parcel Force and b) the weather, I discovered that I had unwittingly been hosting a small party in the living room.

A very small party for very small furry guests. MICE.

Conscious of the need to remain calm and practical, and defy the stereotypical female reaction for the sake of my young daughter (never too early to learn etc etc), I yanked her off my breast, hopped over the sofa in one surprisingly athletic leap, and raced upstairs.

It's all a bit of a blur, but I seem to remember that one of us was squealing loudly, the other weeping hungrily. Or was it the other way round? Anyway, from the safety of the first floor, I called my husband. So far, so stereotypical.

Selfishly not answering his mobile while cycling home in the hail, I decided to assume the worst. We were under attack, the threat level had suddenly risen to critical, and all social events planned at home would have to be cancelled for the foreseeable future. I broke the bad news to my NCT ladies in a slightly hysterical email.

'Tomorrow's tea cancelled due to rodent infestation.'

My rather wet husband returned home to see me banging on the first floor window and mouthing 'M O U S E' while pointing jaggedly at the ground. In retrospect I think I may have looked slightly mad; he was certainly relieved to find I hadn't in fact developed an unforeseen medical complaint, and was in fact bravely protecting our baby from enemy invaders.

Needless to say, hubby felt I may have over-reacted. He has promised to buy poison in his lunch break today, and has reassured me that I really have nothing to fear. I put on a brave face and promised to be more rational. Which is why I am writing this from the barstool in the kitchen and am meeting my NCT ladies in Cafe Nero later.