Mr Rouse has decided to build himself a house. Inevitably, the process is much longer and more detailed than Mr Rouse initially envisages: "Mr Builder, I'm not a bird, you know; how could I live in a house made of leaves?" This quirky tale takes the reader through a timeline of inventions. In a wonderful blend of absurd poetry and British pragmatism, Mr Rouse contends with housing, transport, lighting, plumbing and timekeeping, encountering quarrelling stairs and dapper guttering on his way.
