Being by nature a not very organised person, I like a bit of a list : and also feel they are a great indicator of how random, ( and therefore exciting) your life is. A day when you would be going out to buy buckets (an unspecified, but plural, number) olive oil (perhaps connected to the buckets in some way) a grape vine (to start growing the wine that would end up in the buckets?) some ice creams (it was a hot day? Nothing unusual there.) and some rat poison, now that is a self evidently interesting day.
In case you are thinking there’s some kind of sinister implication in some of the items on the list, (Don’t lie, I can see it in your eyes) allow me to explain : for the last week or so, while sitting out on the sunny back step of my flat, by my lovely new decking, drinking my coffee and reading a it of Orhan Pamuk (Nobel Prize winner, highly recommend!) I have imagined I have caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, but thought I must have imagined it. I should have known, these things are never imaginary : it’s like when someone coughs in a film : you know immediately that they are Going to Die. I always thought it would be hilarious to make a film where everyone kept coughing for no reason : although after a while maybe it would get annoying. This is why my film career foundered : my own inability to believe in my ability to convince people to believe in me. Really.
Anyway, back to the mystery : It was only when I bought a load of alpine strawberry plants for one of my sites, and put them down in the garden to water them, that the whole RAT FAMILY came sniffing out from under the decking to locate from whence the delicious smell. There was a mum and a child rat. Maybe a single mum. Struggling to bring up her only son. Yes of course I poisoned them, have you people never read Dick Whittington?