Bloody Sunday
I quite like gardening.
Unfortunately, it doesn’t like me.
The old lawn was looking a bit tattered, seeing as it hasn’t been cut since last September or so. Yesterday I thought I would take a spin around on the old ride-on mower.
It is a fair sized lawn, and usually takes around an hour to cut. It was very pleasant out yesterday so I spent the hour happily driving around in ever decreasing circles. Fortunately, when I reached the centre of my ever decreasing circles, I didn’t vanish up my own arse, as the old joke would have it.
When the job was done, and the mower stashed away for another couple of months, I decided I deserved a grand mug of tea. I filled the kettle and set it to boil. Two minutes later, I returned to the kettle to find it covered in blood. Being reasonably intelligent, I discounted the kettle as being the source of all the mess, and started looking nearer to home. Sure enough, I had cut my finger and it was pumping the red stuff all over the place.
It was a tiny cut; so small that I didn’t even feel it yet it was pumping by the gallon. I wrapped an old rag around the finger and sat down to enjoy my mug-full.
It was then I felt a slight stinging sensation in my leg. I pulled up my trouser-leg and found a six-inch cut all the way up the calf. It too was bleeding profusely.
Where do these cuts and nicks come from? I don’t remember getting caught in anything. What annoys me is that this happens every time I go into the garden. It is almost impossible to step outdoors without getting something lacerated. My arms and legs are covered in a crazy pattern of scars. I don’t know where any of them came from, except that they are the result of entering the garden.
My blood is good stuff. O Rh Negative, no less. Also it is probably around 40% proof at this stage of my life, so I don’t fancy the idea of it just leaking out after a simple stroll around the demesne.
There is nothing else for it….
Herself will have to do all the gardening from now on.
The danger of drinking whiskey and gardening is that you don’t notice the pain caused by the cuts!
It is heartening to know that old systems still work. Did the blood foam?
Gwan ye auld softie !
I actually can’t get past the fact that you needed to mow the lawn Grandad. I was already wondering WTH I’m doing here in Iowa this morning when I watched the special from London on the local news about the run up to the Royal Wedding. Trees in bud and flowers a’bloomin’ – That was the picture in London. None of that happening here in Iowa. Spring is taking it’s sweet time showing up here! Now it’s in Ireland too? What did we do wrong??
Ian – You know my rule – never more than six whiskeys before midday.
Willie – Wha? Are you claiming that I have mixemitosis or something? I cleared that out of my system years ago.
TT – Nothing to do with being soft. I would just like to retain enough skin to remain reasonably watertight. Not too much to ask?
Denise – In fairness, I hadn’t cut it for about seven months and it was looking a little scruffier than usual. Don’t worry about our weather. They are forecasting a return to normal by Wednesday. We will probably have five foot of snow by the weekend.
A ride-on mower!! I should be so lucky.
Living on the top of a very rocky hill my attempt at weed/grass control is a strimmer and you need body armour to repel the flying stones. All actual planting requires the use of a pickaxe. I’m getting a bit old for all this – ibruprofen & hot baths calling.
Still have a foot of snow yet to melt but I certainly can’t complain at all. We’ve lost 3 feet already and I’m starting to gaze longingly at the shed out back where my beloved old Cub Cadet sits waiting for me to take it out for the first run around the yard. Right after I charge the battery…and fix the clutch pedal return spring…and replace the mower deck idler pulley…and change the oil…and clean the spark plug…and pump grease into all the fittings…and…
Have you stopped bleeding yet?