Covered in bees

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It’s like Wildlife on One in here.

It’s the third time in three days that this room has suddenly filled up with bees. There is, methinks, a nest somewhere in the ceiling. Or possibly a swarm. 

So, here I sit, with the wind picking up and the temperatures falling (a whopping storm is due tomorrow, apparently) and all the doors and windows wide open to let out our dumbass pollinating friends, who, right now, seem more interested in kissing the lightbulbs than heading for the outside world.

The fresh air is just as well, really, as the smell of death is hanging over the place, courtesy of a rodent that my cat, Mini, brought in and thoughtfully secreted somewhere about three days ago. I’d managed to wrest one as big as a grape off her that morning, and I found yesterday’s critter dead in a box, glued with its own blood to the cardboard. But this one has eluded me until it’s made its pungent, methane-laden presence felt. 

Is it under the sofa? No. Is it under the armchair? No. Is it under the coffee table? No. Nor the buffet, the two logboxes, the recycling cupboard or the side-table. I have run out of moveable options, but I’m pretty sure it’s under the oak sideboard that took three men to shift in here 16 years ago and has never been moved again. It’s probably a mouse charnel house under there. 

The options, then, come down to air freshener, scented candles and joss sticks, all of which might be resorted to over the next day or two, and all of which give me more incentive to get out of the house and head for the EuroMayenne fair tomorrow. 

I had my heart set on buying a hat, but since I found my cloches, I’m now not so sure. Maybe if I can find something mad enough, perhaps made of felt and with several colours… Or maybe a cape, with bright autumnal colouring, something I can chuck on over a coat. Today, as we walked around the lake, watching the panting fun-runners huff and puff past us, I suddenly got a craving to get my orange wool 1960s coat out of storage, ready for winter.  

The problem is, the Euromayenne fair has been quite dispiriting this past few years. Five or six years ago, it was well worth a visit, absolutely packed with stalls (I took one myself and sold clothing for three straight years), but with every subsequent year, there seem to be fewer stalls and fewer visitors, traipsing around the vast, echoing hall. They would do far better to take a smaller space and create a warmer atmosphere, really.

It marks the final event of the year, however, so I don’t like to miss it, before everything shuts down and goes into total hibernation till about next May. And thank heavens, it is at least indoors, even if it does lack atmosphere.  

I think today is the cusp. We walked the dog in 19 degrees of heat and blazing sunshine after lunch, but with stormy weather due, the DH decided it was time to take the cover off the pergola and put away the patio furniture till next year. Now dismantling that really does feel final – it was with real melancholy that we packed it away – the true acknowledgement that we will not sit outside again until 2014. 

PS: found the mouse – inside the cover of my cat’s headed bed, cooking away nicely…  

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