Of Rats and Things

We have a family of brown rats who live in the garden, somewhere in the ivy-covered wall. They are especially active around the chicken enclosure and the (pathetic-excuse-for-a) compost heap, where they finish off leftovers and skulk about doing ratty things.

Dad usually stays up very late into the night. He sits in the kitchen, with the old black and white television turned down very low, reading various newspapers and eating copious amounts of watermelon. He also watches the rats' nightly escapades through the kitchen window with fascinated horror and relates them to us the following morning. Like how last night three of them all climbed into the bird-feeder and proceeded to try their hardest to get at the peanuts inside (they failed). The images of rats hanging from a feeder like little acrobats with their tails dangling is no doubt going to remain with him for a while. Dad hates rats. They're probably top on his list of completely unreasonable dislikes (which includes strawberries, Marilyn Monroe and flat roofs on big houses.). Mum, Aaron and I are always trying to find out exactly what sort of horrific childhood event made him hate them to violently. "It's the tails," he says. "Those long naked tails. Urgh."

Name me a few of your unreasonable dislikes. Mine are: fried tomatoes; Cary Grant's voice; 2001: A Space Odyssey (the film); the most recent series of film trailers I've seen; opera (well, most of what I've heard anyway)...among other things.

I feel sorry for rats. They have a harsh deal. I've always liked Templeton from 'Charlotte's Web'.

We currently have a family of very lovely Catalan Spaniards staying with us overnight who are off tomorrow to go camping in the Oxford area. They are swapping Africa stories with the parents and everyone is very happy. I made a huge fruit salad and everyone had a barbecue...except I had to while away the hours at work and miss it. It is very depressing to come home late and finding the house smelling of a barbecue long gone.

I don't know how I feel about the Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film. It has kooky sets. It has strange music. It has Mr Johnny Depp in it looking very weird = biggest plus of all. But it's also been altered slightly from the book. Roald Dahl altered is Sacrilege.

Unfaithful is a rather good film. It's a glossy, beautiful melodrama vaguely in the style of Old Hollywood. Oliver Martinez and Diane Lane are beautiful too.

Edit: I just turned my head and found myself staring directly at a half-finished chocolate brownie, carelessly left on the bookshelf, with gooey bite marks in it. Aaron must have left it there. He is such a slob.