My Nan is a great animal lover: mainly dogs, cats and budgies. Occasionally a taste for the exotic would take hold. Once, looking in a petshop, she saw two forlorn-looking chipmunks. Taking them home on the bus was challenging, especially when they started to eat their way out of the cardboard box (chipmunks will eat almost anything). She put the box on the dining table and called my uncle to see the latest additions to her menagerie. He opened the lid and gave his usual despairing cry of 'Mother', or more strictly 'Muuuther', as both chipmunks escaped up the curtains. It was some hours later that they were enticed back into the box. The chipmunks obviously couldn't live in a box; so initially they were moved to the budgie's cage, the budgie being allowed to fly free in the spare room. The long suffering uncle was then given the task of creating suitable accommodation for the new additions. The chipmunk run was an early memorable feature of my childhood: at least 3 metres long, it stood balanced on kitchen stools in my Nan's bedroom. Their piquant odour competed with Coty's L'Aimant and the Oil of Olay (aka Oil of Ugly).