Things stopped being a joke for a brief moment. I’d sprayed vinegar all over the work surface, and next thing I knew all I could hear was loud gnawing coming from the kitchen. The vinegar had rattled rattus, perhaps he was deterring me from vinegaring again, or perhaps he was distressed and in a vinegar-induced trance. Anyway, onwards, I went to bed and laid my head on one of my 7 pillows, but then I heard a scuttling sound near the bed. The thought came to me that perhaps there were more, perhaps I was being infested, perhaps the rats were taking over. I can’t sleep next to a rat. Imagine if you booked a travel lodge and there was a rat, you’d get a full refund surely.

I twisted and I turned and I wore a hoody over my head, buried my feet under the duvet. I switched the light on as rats are afraid of the light, and I thought best to go to the kitchen, smother myself in garlic and what will be will be…

Fortunately the woman downstairs replied to my message asking if she had a spare bed, saying no she didn’t but she could come over. She came up in her pajamas and investigated, seasoning the kitchen with garlic and investigating the cupboards.

“What’s this?” she asked, pointing to a mountain of wholemeal crumbs in the cupboard under the sink. I thought it was unusual how both slices had disappeared like that. I can only suggest Rattus had taken them to a quiet place to eat undisturbed, such a clever rat. First it is the gap behind the sink, next its the cupboard, then the fridge, the bedroom, an empire of hungry, diseased rats. Could this be my fate?

We put the crumbs in the bin and I went to bed late with the light blinding my tired eyes.

The next day my neighbour would set the traps.