Paper Mache Tower is cold, insulated by bits of paper, torn by small children and pieced together with flour and water, it has little affinity with warmth during these december days.
At 5am this morning, I got up to brave the freezing stairs to go to the toilet (the bunker). I had heard of the giant rat, from behind the kitchen cupboards, but no one had seen it, until now.
It was at my door. We looked eye to eye.
He galloped down the stairs, stopped... looked back and smashed his way back into the kitchen.
I call him Goliath. about the size of a small horse but with the face of Tony Blair.
Several hours later, the power went down. The two days of joy since getting heating in our house had come to a pitiful end. The ice on the windows was not helping.
We huddled in the Penthouse Gardens, upstairs home of Frenchie and Camel, and persisted with the land lord to get our power back on.
We huddled in fetal, and I did jumping jacks, and then suddenly... the power came back on. We jumped for joy! I ran back down to the kitchen to check it was true throughout the lower levels... it was!
But Goliath was there too, enjoying the new found warmth. I looked for him, it seemed he did not want my company either, so he had left.
Using awesome manly ingenuity, I taped the hole, I suspected was it's entrance. Could this be the end of Goliath?
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