‘Pipistrello’ is the Italian for bat. Yesterday evening a dead one turned up on the top of a bookcase – half mummified and light as a feather.
Looking closely, I can see its little sharp teeth and folded ears, and make out the webs of its wings tucked against its body.
It must have come through an open window sometime over the summer when the house was being aired but no-one was living there.
Collateral damage, I’m afraid.