Letter of the week
You silly mongoose
YOUR article reminded me of a potentially disastrous end to Gerald Durrell’s mongoose). I first met Durrell in 1954, when I was a seven year old living opposite him in Bournemouth. I volunteered to help feed his animals, reptiles and birds, kept in row upon row of cages in the back garden. Anyway, my brothers and I cornered a very large rat in our garden, which we killed and proudly showed to our father. ‘Oh dear, that’s not a rat…’
