Man, what a day! I swear, being a ratcatcher in Chalfont-St-Giles is like being in a bloody circus. So, I wake up, right? The sun’s barely up, and I’m already thinking, “Today’s gonna be a wild ride.” Little did I know...
First off, I grab my gear. You know, traps, bait, the usual. I head outta my flat on The Green. Nice spot, but the rats? They don’t care about my morning coffee. I’m walking down the High Street, and it’s all quiet. Too quiet. I’m thinkin’, “Where are all the pesky little critters?”
Then, boom! I get a call. Mrs. Thompson from Church Lane. “Help! There’s a rat in my kitchen!” Classic. I sprint over, dodging the morning joggers. Seriously, who jogs at this hour? Anyway, I get to her place, and she’s standing there, all frantic. “It’s HUGE!” she says. I’m like, “Lady, I’ve seen bigger.”
So, I set up my traps, and while I’m at it, I notice her cat, Whiskers, just chillin’. I’m thinkin’, “What’s this lazy furball doin’?” I swear, that cat looked at me like I was the intruder. Anyway, I finally catch the rat. It’s not even that big. Just a little fella. But Mrs. Thompson? She’s acting like I just saved her from a bear.
After that, I’m feeling pretty good. I head over to the local café on the corner of The Green. You know the one? The one with the best bacon sarnies. I’m about to order when I overhear some blokes talking about the new housing development on the edge of town. They’re all riled up about it. “It’ll ruin the village!” one says. I’m like, “Mate, it’s already a bit of a mess.”
But then, I get a text. It’s from my mate Dave. “Rats at the pub!” he says. I’m thinking, “Oh great, just what I need.” So, I rush over to The Greyhound. It’s packed, and the smell of ale hits me. I’m not even in the door when I see a rat scurrying across the floor. The crowd goes wild! People are jumping on tables, shouting. I’m laughing, but also, like, “C’mon, guys, it’s just a rat!”
I get to work, setting traps while dodging pints flying everywhere. I swear, I’ve never seen a pub turn into a dance floor so fast. I finally catch the little bugger, and the place erupts in cheers. I’m feeling like a rockstar. “RATCATCHER!” they chant. I’m thinking, “This is my moment!”
But then, just as I’m about to bask in my glory, I step in something. I look down, and it’s not what you think. Just some spilled beer. But it’s sticky, and I’m like, “Ugh, gross!” I can’t even enjoy my victory.
After the pub, I’m knackered. I stroll back down the High Street, and it’s getting dark. I pass by the old church on the corner of Church Lane. It’s beautiful, really. But then I see a rat darting into the bushes. I’m like, “Seriously? Not again!”
So, I chase it down, and I’m thinking, “This is my life now. Chasing rats in the dark.” I finally catch it, and I’m feeling a mix of pride and exhaustion. I head home, and as I’m walking, I can’t help but laugh.
Chalfont-St-Giles, man. It’s a wild place. Full of surprises. I love it, but some days? It drives me mad. But hey, that’s the life of a ratcatcher, right? Always something going on. Always a story to tell.
And tomorrow? Who knows what’ll happen. Maybe I’ll find a rat in the library. Or a family of them in the park. Whatever it is, I’m ready. Bring it on, Chalfont-St-Giles!