It’s Sunday, but here is a blog post. I know, I’m excited too! And in keeping with the theme of last week it is full of charming self deprecation, or something.
I tend to be quite exuberant about sports, and hurling myself around in general. I have managed to break a bed in one of our old flats by diving onto it whilst practising my penalty saves. That was quite the experience, although it was capped off by B laughing hysterically whilst filming my attempts to fix the bed which went progressively from bad to really quite bad to total failure. In the end the bed was held up by me piling books underneath it. Probably not quite conforming to manufacturer’s instructions, but a solution nonetheless. Oh and that film, it vanished mysteriously and will never, ever, be seen by anyone.
On to more recent things. It was sunny on Friday afternoon and I was playing out in the garden with N. By playing I mean I was throwing an American football around to myself whilst N was running rampage. She’s not quite big enough to play catch with yet so I thought I would amuse myself for a little while. She was perfectly happy running around, pulling plants up, trying to pick broad bean pods off the plant to eat. And yes, I do mean that, she feels like pulling the beans out of the pods is just such a waste of time that she would prefer to munch her way through it all just so she can enjoy the beans inside. All was peaceful and calm, me charging around one way, her the other, when this happened.
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| A rather jaunty angle I'm sure you'll agree |
That is our bird feeder which has taken a fancy to the floor and is now somewhat less than perpendicular. This is, obviously, not how it is meant to be, and in fact up until twenty seconds before this picture was taken it was not how it was. You will notice as well that there is only 1 single feeder hanging on the hooks, this is also not representative of the picture mere moments before. What could have happened?
Well, it seems that I, flying full pelt across the garden to retrieve a rather errant pass I had thrown to myself, was rather more than a match for the pole holding all the hooky things up and so when I did, in fact, hurl myself against it rather violently, as though I were in the process of making a last ditch tackle against a marauding Shane Williams in a Six Nations clash at Twickenham, being roared on by 80,000 people, it bent, threw its dependants most of the way across the garden, scattering black nyjer seed to the winds like confetti at the wedding of two bird lovers, and was ultimately left in the state which you can see pictured above. (You will have spotted that the feeder that is still hanging actually has pegs for bird perches, this, which works surprisingly well, is as a result of another sports related incident, this one was all the ball’s fault though!)
What made the whole thing so wonderful, and worth blogging about (really, this is not an isolated incident, I could go back over the last 3 months and pick out 6 or 7 things of equivalent destructive value to tell you about) was that N, who was all the way across the garden, came charging over, to make sure tha`t I was ok. Once we had cuddled and she was satisfied that I was not seriously injured her ulterior motive was revealed. It seems she thought this was a new game that daddy had invented, and that we should all have a go at pushing down the feeder pole.
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| What a fine set of legs there are in this photo! |
You can see that she was really putting her back into it!
I have since bent the whole thing back into shape, replaced the feeders, replenished the seed and generally made good on the consequences of my heroics, but just so you know, the officials called pass interference and the ball was spotted at the one yard line, so all’s well that ends well!
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