I will never be able to eat rabbits again.

Since S- and I got back from Denmark there’s been a funny smell, lingering in our bedroom. We presumed the cat had caught something, but on closer inspection, there were no corpses to be found. Until yesterday, when I put my hand into a writhing mass of maggots that had once been part rabbit, part slipper.

So S- got rid of the corpse, hoovered up the maggots and then I put biological washing powder down to neutralise the smell. Only the smell didn’t go. So a more earnest hunt began for another corpse and, not surprisingly, I found one… rotting on five years worth of sketches.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t draw anywhere near as much as I once did so it isn’t as though I’ve lost thousands of pages of work. But then again, I don’t draw anywhere near as much as I once did, so I didn’t have thousands of pages of work to lose – only about 10.

I’m trying not to let on how gutted I am but actually, I’m really upset.

I suppose this is ‘just one of those things’ which ‘builds character’.