Secrets of a pantry mouse...

Dug into the hill are my pantries;

it seemed a good idea at the time.

Our cottage is rooms on rooms,

up steep, steep stairs to each level.

The joys of living on a hill.

When the men were here building the oak extension,

I thought that as the kitchen was so tiny, that it might be a good idea

to dig out the void under the Winter room floor 

to utilise the space as cupboards. 

A very good idea, even though I say it in all modesty!

The right-hand cupboard houses the gubbins for the

poor man's Aga, pots and pans.

The left-hand for cans and cooking ingredients

All okay until the mice of generations 

discover the joys of One-Stop-Scoff.

Now I'm no naturalist, however 

I thought that mice piddle and poo

wherever they go.

The only evidence I have of their presence is

the tiny teeth marks in the edges of the

plastic containers.
Oh and the sometimes mousey smell.
What is going on?

Any ideas?

'The wall, the wainscot and the mouse'
T.S. Eliot