Dolly's blog: Foxy Business

As my 17-year-old son offered to scrape the decayed remnants of a dead fox off the boiler room floor in return for cash, I contemplated the upside of one's children growing older.   

It was an unspoken given that there was no chance of me getting a spade out, and a quick Google suggested that the going rate for professional dead fox removal was £200 and involved a three day wait.  The stench was unbearable.  Our son was happy to settle for £30 and a kebab for dinner.  This was a great deal and everyone was happy – other than the fox. 

One of the good things about parenting teenagers is that, whilst interspersed with occasional moments of baffling incompetence, all three of our children are significantly more self-sufficient (and useful) than in their younger years – and more so than I was looking back.  Aged 18 I remember visiting a friend at university in Leicester.  Separated from my friend as we poured out of a nightclub (and this being an era before mobile phones) I was strangely unconcerned as I flagged down a cab and explained that I was going to "Dave's house", as if the driver would have precise knowledge of Dave and his whereabouts.  To this day I have no idea how I made it back to Dave's house.  Sometimes I wonder how I have survived into middle age. 

Back to the dead fox, there'd been an increasingly rancid smell in the house for several months and, regrettably, our inability to diagnose the problem made the act of clearing it up particularly challenging. As our son shovelled the liquidising fox into a bag and the rest of us reclined on the sofa, Mr D nonchalantly informed us that he "Ate a fox once. I was on a course. It wasn’t very nice.  Very gamey. I wouldn’t recommend it".  We contemplated how to respond. "I think we had squirrel and rat too" he continued. "Squirrel's all right". 

And so, as we begin 2026 and the stench of dead fox recedes, I leave you with that insight and with a fervent hope that this year will be better than the last.  If it isn't, then at least with our knowledge of squirrel cuisine and a teenager with a strong stomach we'll be well-placed for Armageddon. 

After 19 years of fee earning, Dolly now works in a management role in a London law firm. Working four days a week she is supported by a wonderful (though often absent) husband as they attempt to bring up three teenage children. A lockdown puppy adds to the chaos but keeps her sane.

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• Families