Spring is a dangerous time, I think. The first signs of it and I get all excited and what-not, I start wanting to explore natures doings and see whats happening out and about. Therefore, I have been getting off the bus in Killearn of an evening and walking the two miles home - until Wednesday that is. Wednesday, I met a pot hole just outside of Killearn, which meant I kissed tarmac and broke my glasses, I also have four stitches much to the hilarity of everyone at work. There has been a distinct lack of sympathy at home too, however despite the stitches and the red and yellow and blue brusies to my eye and schnoz it actually doesn't hurt (and I am one class A wimp).
When I finally staggered indoors about 8.00pm after I did it, the offspring were watching TV, Nr.2 swivelled his head and said along the lines of "hmmph, that looks bad" and swivelled back to watching TV. Nr.3 said something along the lines of "hmmmmmm, you've ripped you tee shirt - people will see you" and also swivelled back to the TV and Nr.1 never even twitched. Now as it is on my forehead, foreheads bleed a lot and I was covered in blood so I did look quite a sight. When Gravel-guy got home at 9.00pm he barely registered it, but reluctantly agreed to take me to Stirling A&E for stitches as it was still bleeding and I couldn't quite smoosh it together. I'm glad he didn't know that we would eventually get home at 2.30am as it was pretty busy there that night and he is not a night-owl.
I have to admit I did feel a bit of a pillock wandering in with something that only needed a few stitches (but there is no on-call doctor out our way and we would have been told by NHS24 to go there anyway), but as the A&E was full of students "feeling funny" (but not funny enough to stop them making out with each other) I guess I wasn't draining the time and resources too much - well I hope not anyway. And we were there well before the usual drunks.
But the real nuisance has been my hands are bruised and a bit grazed - which makes knitting uncomfortable, so I have hardly touched the cardigan I was motoring along on (plain, boring old stocking stitch but will be embellished later with a bit of bling). Nor have I been as busy in the garden as I would be - but that hasn't stopped the tulips and things that can carry on regardless - fab eh, isn't nature just genius? This has meant more time dolefully watching more and less time doing, which means I have noticed the neighbourhood cats all like my back garden. And my little garden is full of precious little seeds, and there is a cat next door that likes to leap at our washing when it is hung out to dry and try and pull it off (not the washing in his garden you understand). Now I like cats, so I have fleeced and netted and laid sticks as much as possible but still they are there - it is like a cat queue (especially in front of the guinea pigs), it is like the drunken teenagers in Glasgows city centre of a Saturday night - there are hordes of them.
So I have bought this......
un-flipping-believable, the kids can't believe it - we've never had toy weapons on our property of any kind. Anyone bringing their favourite plastic pistol/toy sword to play was always made to leave it at the garden gate, even if they came with their mummies and their mummies made a fuss - we have always been a no-weapons household and no negotiations. But the neighbourhood cats, now thats a whole 'nother story.
Let battle commence.