When arriving back at Einar I go through the same routine. It involves turning the electricity on:
That wiring looks safe, doesn’t it? I turn the water on and then find the tank’s empty and the taps spurt fresh air for minutes on end.
I check the mouldy post:
I’m impressed this got to me, despite the misspelling of the house’s name.
Then it’s time to see what’s died in the hall. This time the only carcass is a juvenile Starling. A bird must have been in the house as well, even though there’s no sign of it now; apart from the bird poo all over my coat.
Then I check for mice. If your nearest neighbours’ houses are called Musland and Mousebrae, that’s telling you something, isn’t it?
I usually find a punctured airbed, an eaten block of lemon soap or a nibbled draught excluder. What will it be this time?