So this was never intended to be the first entry in any journal, but as it happens, I have started in the middle of my nice shiny new start and there have been a few, erm, hiccups along the way.
To wit, my flat. For those who have not met me, or heard me wail about The Flat, I can only offer the sage advice of experience: never, ever move into a flat in Birmingham in a hurry. Or possibly ever. So far this new start has entailed damp, mould, mildew, more damp, damp in the electrics cutting out the light in my bathroom for the last few months, a trigger-happy fire alarm that delights in keeping me awake just when I have to be awake and alert the following morning, heating that is temperamental at best, and more holes in the walls and floor than a block of swiss cheese. Which is apt really, as this blog begins at the dawn (or sunset of) a new battle in The Flat. This time, it’s mice.
Now then, I being a nice, well brought up Jewish girl did grow up with An American Tale and duly cried over the exploits of Feivel Mauskewicz and family, but this does not mean I was planning on sharing my home with their misbegotten Brummy relatives. How the little blighters managed to find their way into my home is no mystery – a mouse can fit through any hole large enough to get a biro into, so between the holes in the skirting large enough for my arm to fit into and the undoubtedly delicious smell of my cooking as opposed to the students living next door, this must have equated to a giant flashing sign somewhere in the pipes reading “Mice Welcome – Bring a Friend!”. I am, needless to say, not impressed.
The landlord has been notified – he may have ignored the damp, the cold, the mould and the fire alarm, but furry residents do not pay rent and will probably want housing benefit for their rapidly expanding family, so with a bit of luck this will move him. In the meantime, the kitchen has been deep cleaned to within an inch of its life (or as much as can be, with aforementioned holes, including one which looks just like the one Jerry lives in in the cartoons….), and now holds a pervasive smell of extra strong bleach (from the cleaning) and peppermint oil (from trying to deter the little buggers from coming back). Ahhhh, the joys of rented accommodations.
I can only be thankful that the contract on this place switches to rolling in March, so I only have a maximum of 2 months before freedom and a different breed of housing crisis can set in.
And on that note, to sleep – or try to – with the prospect of work, and training, and trying not to freak out too much while out of the house about what the mice are doing now. This isn’t over yet!!