I’d like to tell you the story of when I found a rat in a can of paint. The outhouse was always dark and smelt of paraffin – there was a big old 50 gallon drum that sat on its side and always looked dangerous. I’d been asked to find a can of white emulsion out there amongst a stack of old tins, some old, some unopened, some big, some small. They were all a jumble so I was trying to find something that looked white with a bit of weight about it taking can after can from a pile on the left to a pile on the right. Suddenly I noticed a movement in an open tin (of white as it happens) and startled, I looked in and saw the curled up form of a young rat. I jumped back (rats were as dangerous as 50 gallon drums of paraffin as far as I was concerned) and at the same time saw the rat leap out and across the piles of cans and into the darkness under the big stone bench. I’d always been nervous about this outbuilding – in it spiders and earwigs were in profusion and now all of my worst fears were underlined. The speed with which the rat escaped, coupled with the memory of my alarm at finding it there henceforth made me defer, procrastinate, avoid all further invitations or directives to grope around in its unfathomable darkness…

Ian Jobson – April 8, 2010 at 4:09 am