“I saw a mouse!”
“Where?”
“There on the stair!”
“Where on the stair?”
“Right there!”
“It didn’t by chance have clogs on, did it?”
“No! It was a bloody mouse, you wally!”
Pete smirked to himself. Jane was always such a drama queen, and he had to inject a little humour into their lonely existence.
Since buying the old windmill, and trying to restore it to its original glory, so they could then organise tours around an authentic working old school windmill, Pete and Jane had sunk into a hermit-like existence.
But it had been a tough time. There were no neighbours nearby. They had to drive at least half an hour to the nearest shops in the village, and they were a little too off the beaten track for their friends to visit. Even if they did, there was no guest room for them to stay over, so most people just stayed away.

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