Some of Derek's stories and mine
I thought I would kick off my account with some of Derek’s past stories, as they are always worth a good read on a miserable day, or when you are feeling down.
all is not lost, or is it?
i was so lookin forwad to mowin yestday. my frreend put cd play on my mower,so at last i culd enjoy my music when mow.
i take thermos and chees n pikle sarny to, with porkpie an a bog of hula hoops.
i put them al in basket on back and start mow
open doors of shed an of i go.
i do feld to Bryan Adams,Celione Dion, Robbie Williams, Linda Ronstadt, Diana Ross, Westlife an bee Gees befor finish.
at the botom theer is brook an old tree on side- good seet -i turn tp get thermos from basket oh no – it empty!!!!!!!
i look up feld.
theer, in difrentp lace i can see 11sees all over the feld -oh no.
sumtim later i sit on seet and p[or a cofee- oh so nice at last—oh wow—a kingfisher- it blue an – oh,so fast. ,y chees sarny taste nice an many birds to see. farmer next dor go by in tractor and wave i wave bak- oh n o- i foget chees sarny – it fall from hand in brook!!!!
i fed up now, so go in next feld an start mow- rabbits many- runfor yor lives!
an deer to up on the hill- som blue sky and warm compar to erly to day. soon i lost in ketchup song, human nature, will smith, firehouse, marc antony, lara fabian and basia. i now finish feld an open gate. the lane empty. it alway empty unless car come- only cow this time.
oh no – wat he doin out?
i start mow and charg up lane- oh no- it the nutcase!!!!!
he alway try get out- this time he must jump hurdal 5 foot hihg.
waht can i do? i have no pellets for makeh im cum in.
i lok at basket.
oh no – not my pork pie!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
you no, sumtim a porkpie with cow sliva all over, not lokk to taste. i let him hav the rest, shut the gate, and trot off down feld to my favrite tree again.
i stop, get off,an look in basket- oh no—wheer my thermos???
Fed up for secon time, i go back to house, an theer, in big pile of cow doodoo is thermos – – my heart fall.
i was siting that evning, in warm room after dinnner, feeling reely hapy, thinkin about kingfisher, an how much that moment seem to make all other no prob. an then i thinkin . . . . . . . . .. …………………
wat ever hapen to my hula hoops???????
my first nite in hte wood
wen i first move to htis farm it weer 3 day befor i had to go an look at hte wood – it weer neerly dark but i had to go
so, i put tractro in barn an short walk of down hte lane.
hte wood was creepy -lot of scratchin an nocks, funy taping an wining. a breeze ratel sum branch an hten i see hte mist.
it weer movin thru hte wood lik a silent, death, as i tred on broken wood, an it crack like a gunshot folow by a blood curdling shriek wich sent lektrik discharge all round my body, as my hair went verticle,an my legs feel lke rubber band
“YOUR DINNER REEDY!!” it wail from a far -an evrythin in wood stomp an race out in all directoin . . .deer, fox, bager, owl . stoat, weesil . . . . . . . . . excep for me
i walk bak slow to house wiht my hair like a punk star, an my eyes more open htan 10 cups of coffeee
“see anything nice?” she asked . . . . . an hten looked up
“oh my -you see a ghost?”
“yes” i said . . . . . . “MY OWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh disaster upon disaster!!!
“Oh, what a disaster!” say my mom.
yes, mom come for diner. she a bit wobly now at 103 but me an my brother thinkin she actual 107 – it no mater reely, as she woble just as much now as wehn she weer 70. what wiht my shakin too, the 2 of us maskin for a bit of a dodgy photo when my brother do hte takin.
!Stand still!!” hew scream much, and me an mom giggel an snigger and brother sayin “Oh, for goodness sake!”, an we larfin an larfin even more.
Then it happen.
Myb brother right foot slide down the slope to the stream- “OHHHH!!!” we both gasp out, but too late . . . . . . . . . . . . brother lose balance an splutter out like wailin goose . . . “Ooh erkkkk!!!” . . . . . . . .. an then come the inordinut “PLOP!!!”
“Oh nooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” i depressinly sigh.
Yes folks, my brand new camra my freend Jason buy for me, now residin 30mtrs down streem, havin crash over 2 waterfall an crunch on big rock. the drop is bout 4 mtrs, so no chance of reechin it – – it is drowned . . . . . . an dead!!!!!!!
theer weer this short momentof slience, an then mom sayin . . . . . “Oh . . . . i hopin we both no end up like that!!”
we arfin and larfin all hte way back to the house, and then, havin made a cup of tea, we sat together on sofa.
after 3 sips, we both look at each ohter,an sayin together,”Who gonna tell Jason?”
(The seconds seem like hours an then we both lookin at hte door)
(A NOTHER PREGNENT PAUSE)
“Oh . . . . what a disaster” says mom.
“Yes mom . . . . . . .. he alway weeer!!!!!”
As a crow flies.
It was the start of another usual day.
Derek and I (Jason) sat on the old tree trunk behind his house, supping tea, and enjoying the early morning sounds of creatures scurrying back to their homes, and early adventurers rustling leaves and snouting around.
Both Derek and I looked up.
“I say, Derek,” said I, somewhat perplexed, “You got a new alarm clock?”
“AWARK – AWARK!!!”
Before Derek’s bulging eyes had any chance of redirecting their gaze in my direction, the whole tree, a quacking oak, as it happens, swayed and shooked and shivered, like Derek’s Mum on a good day, and out of it flew as a straggly mess of half chewed and half eaten feathers . . . . . . . . .JUNIOR!!!!!!!
“AWARK!!! – AWARK!!!! – AWARK!!!” screamed Dad, which I can only presume means in crow language, “Come on Son – you can do it!!!”
Well, Son, as it happens, couldn’t do it. Not at all.
Little junior flapped like a pro, with the enthusiasm of a first time Olympian, with little legs that seemed to be trying to do something similar to walking on water.
You had to give him credit. Well, I had to, as Derek was in heaps of laughter, struggling himself to stay on the log and not fall off the back.
And then it happened. Just like the Red Arrows.
Completely unexpected, and from BEHIND, swooping at speed, low and just skimming the ridge tiles on the roof, arching upwards before us, with wings outspread and undercarriage extended . . . . . . . . . . . was DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!
He alighted like an oversized plum pudding, atop the quacking . er . . quacking oak.
“Eweek!”, “Eweek!”, “Eweek!”, said Junior, in the best traditions of Crow geneology, and promptly started to plummet.
The air was filled with “AWARK!!!” from Mum and “AWARK!!!” from Dad, and a slightly countrified brogue from Derek, who was half swallowing a generous slurp of tea at the time – “SCRAMBLE!!!!!!!”
Well, I’ve never seen anything like it. Derek was up quicker than I have ever seen him move, with his walking stick held aloft in the horizontal position, the top button of his waistcoat pinging off like a guided missle, and his tea splashing everywhere, screaming at the top of his voice, “COME ON SON – YOU CAN DO IT!!!”
Dad took to the air like a Lancaster Bomber on steroids, squarking an “AWARK!” as he ascended, and did a perfect cuban 8 to join Mum, who just happened to be flying back from Tescos, well, at least she had food in her mouth, which no doubt was to act as encouragement for keeping junior in the safe confines of the said quacking oak.
Alas, all was not to be.
Junior, by now, was fast running out of flappability, and to that end, airspace as well.
If only he’d had a parachute!!!!!
Well, he didn’t, and in the best traditions of F-104 Widowmakers – plenty of guts and courage, but just not enough wing – he went straight in, all guns blazing “Ewerk, ewerk, ewerk, ewerk, ewerk!!!!!”
— -straight into the cow shed!!!!!!!
Well, that last one was enough to frighten the living daylights out of junior, and he reappeared through the broken roof, all pistons pumping, in gleaming plummage that shone like an overwaxed Spitfire.
“AWARK!!!” SHOUTED Dad, as proudly has he could.
Mum just flew alongside with a nodding look and a guiding wing.
“Look at that Jason,” said Derek, prodding me in the side with his crook, “Just like the Battle of Britian Memorial Flight”.
I noticed the tremendous pride across his gritted lips, as he once more clenched his fist around his stick, and shook it into the air with a great sense of achievement.
“Fancy a cuppa?” he enquired, “I seeme to have lost mine” he countered, as he gazed into the empty mug.
“AWARK!!!!!” I retorted, and we both walked back up to the house, laughing.
Derek certainly knows how to start his days, is all I can say :):):)
The wait was agony
Posted on 1 Jun, 2010
Well, it began many years ago, when in a moment of naughtiness, my right hand inadvertently dipped into my rear pocket.
“Oh my goodness, what is that?!”
Yes, it was my trusted pair of secateurs.
How they manage to get into my rear pocket everytime I go for a wander, I do not know, but there they were, and there . . . . . just metres away . . . . was one of the most beautiful plants I had ever seen in my life.
At that time, I didn’t know what it was, but one thing I did know, was that it was the first plant I had ever discovered, that was MAGNETIC!!!
Yes, indeed so, or how else could I explain the way in which my trusted pair of secateurs, seemed to be sucked across the road and straight onto the wall of this old brick building by the field gate that also seemed to lead to nowhere.
I didn’t know the area well at all; in fact, not many other people did either, judging by the lack of humanity for as far as the eye could see.
Then there was this inordinate snip!!!
Oh my, it was so loud.
I turned round with sweat creasing my brow.
“Hello, hello, hello!!!” said plod.
I shivered, and shivered again as the imaginary bluebottle dissipated.
I looked down.
There, lying at my feet, was a broken branch, with a rather telltale right angled cut at it’s base.
“Oh no!”, I thought, “I will never forgive myself”.
One second later, I had, and I picked it up, strolled over to the car, and zoomed off down the lane.
Turning onto the main road, I noticed these rather large pair of gates surrounded by rather grand stone walls, and a pair of immense growling lions either side of the driveway.
Today, these many years later, this plant always reminds me of those lions, and so it should, and the bigger the plant got, the more guilt I suffered from. Eventually, I had to plant it in a pot, to stop it growing any more, and my guilt from escalating into paranoia.
No matter how rich those people were, I should have asked.
Now-a-days, I do exactly that, because I have now learned that it is the proper thing to do.
Some say that I should give this plant away, but I keep it to remind me, every year, when it bursts into flower, that no matter how wonderful something may be, however much you yearn to have it, cherish it and nurture it, I will never, ever own it.
As it’s caretaker, I pass on it’s glory to you all, in the full knowledge that one day, when I feel that it is in it’s prime, I will return it, as a worthy gift for those who from whom, I should have asked.
The promise of so much.
- 15 Jun, 2013
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