Thursday, 13 August 2009

My Afghanistan Moment

At the moment, I'm digging up the old (four years) strawberry bed in order to put in a row of raspberries and a smaller number of new strawberry plants ( the nearby frog pond has massively reduced slug and bird predation so I don't need so many).
One thing that both strawbs and rasps like is horse manure so I'm putting as much of the stuff in the ground as possible. Fortunately, there's a paddock nearby that offers it free to take away (because horses and ponies don't stop making it). Unfortunately, when I went this morning with three old compost bags and a fork, the gate was chained shut. The alternative was to climb over the wooden post and rail fence with pig netting on one side and a strand of barbed wire on top. So I put the bags and fork over and stepped up onto the first rail preparatory to lifting my leg over when I notice the proximity of the barbed wire to my groin. One false move... and the fun of carrying the full bags thirty yards to the fence, lifting them over and risking pulling my back. I do not want to sustain an injury for the sake of free horse shit. And then I thought why on earth are we fighting in Afghanistan when unmanned drones do a perfectly good job of squashing potential malfeasants (which is where the UK's national interest there starts and finishes). I'll go back another day and hope the very nice pony owners are there and have unlocked the gate.

6 comments:

James Higham said...

One of your most interesting ones.

Gallimaufry said...

James, many thanks for the positive feedback. I reckon it's mainly due to mentioning frogs in my post: when one sees a frog, duck or penguin one can't help but think positively and smile.

Thud said...

Squire Thud could do with a touch of some of your soft fruit wisdom!

Gallimaufry said...

I have only just realised the unintended double-entendre linking soft fruit and the hazards of climbing over barbed wire. I grew up listening to Round the Horn etc and that style of gently filthy (Honi soit qui mal y pense, of course) humour seeped into my funnybone osmotically. I feel sad for today's generation served by "comedians" who consider swearing essential and vie to mock and defile the best of British values and achievements with snide comments yet flinch with leftist outrage from joking about anything to which they can add "ist". Heard any good Cuba jokes on the BBC?
And if I in fact grasped the wrong end of the stick, I rely on the wisdom of the late Geoff Hamilton (the last worthy Gardener's World host), Dig for Victory pamphlets and a collection of old gardening books intended for gardeners working for Big Houses. (Like many, I am proud to have had ancestors in service). Perhaps that's why one of my favourite films is The Shooting Party.
I think a long post on the benefits of Country Houses is in the offing.

Thud said...

The pun was unintended but none the less funny on a second reading. As an inner city boy born and bred I know nothing about fruit other than a little about apples and Damsons. I'm a whizz at renovating old houses so...post away please.

Gallimaufry said...

Apples and Damsons - evidence of Scouser rhyming slang? btw I've now got the manyre, dug it all in and erected the raspberry posts ready to stretch wire between them.