Petrol, Yum Yum

The day had started calmly enough with Mike deciding to mow the lawn. Except that now there appeared to be a problem. The smell of petrol lay heavy on the air. Mike emerged from his shed and thrust a mangled piece of rubber tubing under my nose.  He didn’t seem best pleased. “NOW look….!!”

Not being familiar with the inner workings of a mower, I wasn’t able to identify precisely from whence it came, but the little teethmarks and resultant hole were unmistakable. It’s a shame really, because the mice have been very quiet of late. I had dared to hope that maybe, at last, they had seen the error of their ways and departed for pastures new. True, there is one still working the patch underneath the bird table. And then there are the alliums. Only two emerging from the 20 or so I planted out last year. But in terms of general scuttling about, activity has significantly reduced. Nevertheless, here we are again, back on the internet, trying to source new parts for yet another piece of garden kit. While daisies and buttercups take over the lawn.

What is it about petrol that mice find so appealing? The nobbled fuel line lies deep within the engine compartment. This time, the top off a Fairy Gel bottle will be of no use at all.