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Gardener Saves Damsel

June 27, 2012

It’s all OK!  No need to call the RSPB.  Nor report my wilful negligence to the Animal Welfare Society (if there even is such a thing?).

But first, some background.  Last night i ‘nipped’ over to next doors, ostensibly to document the final throes of the festival (those who’d opened their gardens getting together).  I duly took a few photos, and then the (somewhat dull) gardeners left, leaving me, Advolly and Paul to discuss our potential new venture (more anon on that).  Anyway, one thing led to another, as it always does, and i didn’t reel home til gone midnight (waaaay past my normal bedtime of 10).  Now that in itself may have given me a dry mouth of a morning, but no1 child woke up at 5am with a bad dream, and i couldn’t get back to sleep, meaning that today has been somewhat of a struggle, less due to hangover (though that’s not helped), more due to lack of sleep, which is the real killer.  And so, in an effort to work my way out of my doldrums i did the housework, made biscuits, prepared supper, and then, just before i was due to pick up the kids thought i’d treat myself to my guilty pleasure – an episode of Gossip Girl.  And that’s when the bird started to manifest itself as a hitchcockian nightmare.  It started scrabbling around (dear god, not dead yet?!?!?), and vigorously moving the flimsy piece of plyboard that is all that stops the chimney.  When i started seeing wing feathers poking down i panicked.  The thought that it might get free, and cause havoc (and more importantly mess of the worse kind) all over the house spurred me into action.  I ran out into the garden, where lucky enough Geoffrey (our gardener, ha ha, never tire of saying that) was.  Now, Geoffrey is no spring chicken.  He’s been doing this garden for 50 years apparently, and i’ve no idea for how long he’s been retired.  But he was my only hope.  And by gad, did he come to the rescue.  Bravely took away the plyboard, stuck his hand up and grabbed the beast.  Which turned out not to be a pigeon, but a crow.  He took it outside and it flew off!  Oh yea!  My karma is safe.  The bird lives!  And not a scratch on anyone.  Nor a massive mess.  Feeling rather smug now.  Trying very hard not to reward myself by eating all the oat and raisin biscuits, which, if i’m being honest, are the second batch i’ve made in as many days, as yesterday’s got taken over to the next door neighbours at half-ten in an effort to soak up some of the wine.

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