Wouldn’t a bell be better?

Now, where was I? Right, Polly and the muffin - so, after that we were staying and first thing we had to do was to find somewhere to settle in nice and cozy like. Hunted around and found a lovely bit of skirting board - classic eight inch high Ogee moulding in black with a good clear view all round in case of attack by the Youknowwhats - and, best of all, a fabulous knot hole that saved me hours of gnawing - not that I mind where Polly’s concerned as you know. So, before you can say ‘Stilton’ we’re down under the floorboards the pair of us, snug as a bug in a rug.

I’m just settling down and thinking about other stuff when Polly ups and says she needs a front door - a posh one like, with a big knocker. Now I quite like door bells myself but “is a bell better than a hooter on a scooter?” as mum used to ask us. She was a very clever lady from Forest Gate but a bit of an odd ‘un my mum and came out with these sayings from time to time. We never knew what the question meant let alone what the answer was - nor what was the point of asking it - don’t think she did either, bless her cotton socks.

Anyway, to get back to my story. Polly wants a big front door with an impressive knocker and she wants it now. “Can’t it wait till the morning and wouldn’t a bell be better”? I ask but apparently not, so there’s nothing to be done but to see what can be done. Saint B*****y Squeaky they should call me.

So I shims up the leg of one of the tall places where the Bigguns work and there, believe it or not, (and I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t) was the best front door for a mouse hole ever - and I mean Ever. Ever! Now I know a good thing when I see it especially when I could get lucky so since there’s a nice spool of Shepherds 18/3 unwaxed linen thread in blue just sitting there, waiting to be used, I rig up a hoist and before you can say Wensleydale a couple of times the door is down at our level and a Wensleydale or two later it’s in place.

Me, I’m chuffed to bits and Polly seems pleased enough but something’s not quite right. “Where’s my big brass knocker?” she says when I ask what’s up with her.

I’ll let you know my answer and the outcome of that when we next meet - it might ring a bell with you!