After a week in Wales, my five year old and I are back in London. (I do by the way intend to backfill blog entries for the days that I missed.)
In yet another example of the kind of eccentric incident that seems to define my life, as we approached the front door of No. 11, a girl from a neighbouring house stuck a toweled head out of the front door and told us that a passerby had told her that he had seen a fox looking out of a window in my house earlier in the day.
We entered gingerly and neither found or smelled anything untoward, but when I checked the upstairs, the master bedroom had been turned upside down, a carpet corner was torn up, and the window frame had been clawed and chewed.
We checked Benny's room and then the bathroom, and as we came out of that a fox wandered insouciantly out of the main bedroom. I shut my little guy in the bathroom, ran downstairs and opened the front door and then chased the intruder out.
I don't think that the creature laid its "scent" anywhere and I think that it must have come through the catflap we inherited, but I have been stuck on the sofa with a traumatised five year old boy for the last couple of hours. I'll have to unpack tomorrow.
Welcome back to my life. I wonder what my insurance will cover?