Oh Stuart, where art thou?

Oh dear. We should have known it could end in tears. After all, A Christmas Carol is a weepie. Yesterday morning I approached the airing cupboard with sadness, knowing that it was time to return Tiny Tim, aka Stuart Little, our mouse visitor, to the wild and his own family in time for the mouse Christmas festivities. DJ and I had heavy hearts as he has become part of the family – and we are, after all, pet mad in our house anyway, with six of our own! But we knew it was the right thing to do.

However, when I got to Stuart’s little nesting box I found, in horror, it was EMPTY and there was no sign of him, well, apart from an old sheet that had obviously had a hole chewed through it. Eek. I searched carefully through the cupboard through all the linen, towels and junk that had accumulated in there, but there was no sign of the mousecape artist. Perhaps he was just having a little constitutional somewhere and would come back later, I thought, and left some apple out for him. But nothing. Last night DJ cleared out the airing cupboard and left three little nesting boxes out for him with water on each of the three levels of the cupboard in case he showed up again, (DJ is such a Dad!) but there was still no hide nor hair of the little rodent this morning.

Please come home for Christmas, Stuart! We just pray he hasn’t somehow climbed into the loft and encountered the..er…rat poison that may still be up there from a er…problem we had in the summer…God bless us, every one, as Tiny Tim would no doubt say at a time like this. Indeed, let’s hope he does.

Meanwhile, the Scrooge Christmas plan has brought a little embarrassment my way. The other night I went out for one of the few Christmas dinners I have allowed myself – with a couple of ladies I’ve met through choir. With half a brain I wondered if they might – being un-Scrooge-like, write me Christmas cards, so I considered writing cards just in case but keeping them in my handbag and only producing them if they gave them to me to avoid any social embarrassment. But I decided that would go contrary to the Scrooge Christmas plan of only giving cards to people who give me them, and so I would have to tough it out. Of course, what happened? I showed up at the restaurant and all of them immediately handed over cards. It was sweet of them but sooo embarrassing. Especially as I didn’t have their addresses. Luckily one lady had the foresight to put one of those little address stickers in her card and the other I was able to text this morning, for shame!

What’s more, DJ’s Dad and girlfriend Edith in Zambia have sent us two beautiful grape vines through a UK nursery, (expensive, eek!) so DJ can make wine from his own fruit. Yours truly has, of course, sent two Scrooge Christmas plan presents (although one, admittedly, is a beautiful homemade pair of tiger eye earrings) via surface mail – which is about half the price of airmail – and will probably get there in time for Christmas 2008….

Oh dear…So much for the good karma Beverley – who left a message on the blog yesterday – hoped our little mouse visitor would bring…!

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