The mole had been working very hard all morning, spring cleaning his little home.
So begins The Wind in the Willows.
Like Mole, I have been on ladders and steps and chairs and I have
an aching back and weary arms.
I have been full of fine words about cleaning,
so today I thought I'd better put some of them to the test.
A little bit Cheryl, a little bit Shirley,
a little bit Jane
but mostly Mole.
Something up above was calling him imperiously...
So he scraped and scratched and scrabbled and scrooged, and then he scrooged again and scrabbled and scratched and scraped,
working busily with his little paws and muttering to himself,
"Up we go! Up we go!" till at last, pop! his snout came out into the sunlight, and he found himself rolling in the warm grass of a great meadow.
The sunshine struck hot on his fur, soft breezes caressed his heated brow, and after the seclusion of the cellarage he had lived in so long the carol of happy birds fell on his dulled hearing almost like a shout.
* From Mrs Miniver, but in her case meaning a revisitation of old haunts,
which is what Alice has been doing.