Corfu tails: an unwelcome visitor at the Villa Oleander
There is a shovel waiting on the upstairs balcony, ready to deal with our latest visitor. It's not for my big brother, although I must admit that, at times when I was younger, I could quite happily have hit him on the head with a garden implement, preferably something pronged. No, our latest visitor emerged one night not long after a small white cat appeared mewing in the garden, closely followed by a bat. With Doctor Seuss timing, something that rhymes with mat suddenly appeared in the vine overhead. And it was not a hat. I could cope with the edible dormice in the roof. They have an interesting and noble history (they were once eaten on sticks by ancient Romans). And even ordinary mice I can put up with. But. Not. A. Rat. There it was, looking down on the family gathering on the outside terrace with cold, beady eyes. And then, once we'd spotted it, it shot off, like the proverbial rat up a drainpipe, although it found its way up by shinning up a pillar...