Having watched Boris Morris the little brown mouse emerge yet again, dart around the kitchen and disappear mysteriously into the skirting board without even nudging the chocolate-baited death traps, I started to feel strangely attached to him. Perhaps a mouse of superior intelligence could cohabit with humans after all.
It was, therefore with a twinge of sadness that we awoke to discover a small furry brown body slumped across a square of chocolate. The end of the road for Boris Morris. I wish he’d packed for his deluxe relocation, I bet he did too.
And so with a eulogy said, the death trap was relocated to the bin and we set off to France.
Au revoir les souris!