[Panel 1]
[Elizabeth]
The mice are back. They've
abandoned the dishwasher and
colonised the attic over my room.
Either that or we've had
very small noisy burglars.
[Bell]
The woman at the cafe said
she'd heard something about
dormice in the area.
[Panel 2]
[Nils]
In that case shouldn't they
dorm a bit more, rather than
clomping about all the time?
[Elizabeth]
Surely they can't be. Glis
glis mostly live west of London,
around Tring and Beaconsfield
and places like that.
[Bell]
I didn't hear any mice,
but I did hear singing
coming from your room...
[Panel 3]
[Elizabeth]
I thought a lullaby might
help send them to sleep. But
I don't speak enough Mouse
to make them understand.
[Bell]
I'm sure the council
does evening-classes.
They do in every
other language.
[Elizabeth]
Meanwhile, do we have any honey?
[Nils]
Jaakko said he had some left over
from his last batch of mead. Why?
[Panel 4]
[Elizabeth]
Glis Mellitus. A classical recipe
for Ginny's next catering gig.
[Nils]
Oh, of course. And you can
use the fur to make hats
and gloves, and the fat's
good for arthritis...
...what?
[Bell]
How do you...?
[Nils]
Jaakko got chatting to some of
the locals last time he was in
Slovenia, and he told us ALL
about hunting edible dormice.
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