Saturday, 6 August 2011

In the matter of Carrot v Decency

I'm a country bumpkin.

I don't get out much.

In the country, we have to make our own entertainment.

I buy big sacks of carrots for Bar-Os (no wait, it gets better).

They are the ones that don't make it to the supermarket. For reasons that will become all too apparent.

(Is the excitement getting too much to bear yet?).

I'm old enough to know better.

A mature aspirant to the Bar for God's sake.

But still find carrot pornography very funny.

The poor chap on the right went to Snips R Uz for a vasectomy. I have a date with the one on the left:-)

Friday, 5 August 2011

Friends in high places

A couple of grumpy swallows moved, uninvited, into Bar-Os' stable a few weeks back. They built a nest of sorts, on a beam, smack bang in the middle of the stable. They dive bombed me. They dumped on Bar-Os.

I explained to them that I paid the mortgage and as such had every right to be there. It made no difference.

Soon enough, 3 baby swallows hatched - very peculiar - 1 large, 1 medium, 1 small. They would sit in a row on the beam, looking just like a set of Russian dolls, all neatly lined up. They had inherited their parents grumpiness. They glared at me. They dive bombed me. They too dumped on Bar-Os.

In the morning my poor boy's back would be twitching and he had a resigned look on his face "look what they did mum". I wiped away the bird droppings each morning.

As the days passed, the swallows spent less and less time in the stable and I noticed that there didn't appear to be much muck on his back. It was quite difficult to tell though because he's taller than me and I can't see right over his back.

On an evening, I let him graze on the lane for a few minutes when I bring him home from the paddock. As he leans forward to munch, his back dips slightly and I get a better view of his back. On several occasions, I was surprised to see quite a lot of bird droppings and assumed that I missed them in the morning.

I went to the paddock one day last week and noticed something on his back. As I approached, I realised it was a swallow; sat there, not a care in the world. The next day there were several on his back; all sat relaxing in the sun, as though it were the most normal thing in the world to spend the day riding around the field on a horse. None of the other horses in the surrounding paddocks have the same embarrassing problem. I've come to the conclusion that it's the same swallows, who think Bar-Os is their dad.

They say that getting dumped on by a bird is lucky. I keep meaning to buy Bar-Os a lottery ticket; he's in for a megga win!

Here are the culprits, waiting for Bar-Os.

There haven't been as many firework displays from the hotel this year. I'd like to think that the 'talking to' I gave to the hotelier some while back was the reason, but suspect that it's the recession (the displays start at £600).

I received an email from the village idiots Parish Council earlier this week to say that there would be a display this evening at 9.30 "the usual quiet ones followed by a few bangs at the end".

I got Bar-Os in from the paddock early so that I could get him groomed without getting my teeth kicked out when the big bangs commenced. At about 10, I heard loud bangs and assumed that I'd missed the 'quieter' fireworks which precede the very loud ones at the end. Nope, that was the beginning of an horrendous episode. The fireworks got bigger and louder, resulting in my house, garden and stable (and a few neighbours homes) getting showered in glowing cinders. The ones that landed in the garden soon went out because the grass is damp from the recent rain, but the roof on the house and stable had burning cinders on them for some time. I'm not in a good frame of mind!