I think I should give you an update on the wildlife as it has become so centre stage on this blog.
Lazarus unfortunately was put down by the vet, the poor thing was in too sorry a state to be able to recover and survive. I hated being there, in the vet's examination room, and even more being there while he was injecting Lazarus with the lethal dose of pink fluid. I felt awful for the next couple of days after that, remembering how I had found this little hedgehog beautiful, with its plumped padded paws.
As for the swarm of bees that elected residence in the chimney, I spent about a week in complete denial and preferred to ignore the problem, secretly praying for that collapse syndrome or whatever afflicts the beehives the world over. But hell no, no such luck for me. After I found about a dozen, everyday, in the ground floor bedroom and bathroom, and being reduced to a nervous wreck with bees flying around every time I showered (I’ve never been stung you see) I could no longer dodge the issue. And Dave wouldn’t let me either, his last message when we were discussing a plan of attack I tried my best to avoid was “just do it”. I could sense the tone.
As for the swarm of bees that elected residence in the chimney, I spent about a week in complete denial and preferred to ignore the problem, secretly praying for that collapse syndrome or whatever afflicts the beehives the world over. But hell no, no such luck for me. After I found about a dozen, everyday, in the ground floor bedroom and bathroom, and being reduced to a nervous wreck with bees flying around every time I showered (I’ve never been stung you see) I could no longer dodge the issue. And Dave wouldn’t let me either, his last message when we were discussing a plan of attack I tried my best to avoid was “just do it”. I could sense the tone.
So I put my lovely pink Marigold gloves, put the fumigating bomb in the chimney, blocked the hole and ran out. I stood for a while outside and after a few minutes some escaped flying in all directions. Haven’t seen them since.
And we have new squatters. The classrooms, and occasionally the house, are being used by swallows as their own private M25 motorway. I love listening to them singing.
And to finish on the wildlife of our village, I have encountered a new threat to my nervous system: cats. There are two of them that are playing chicken every time I come back from work around one in the morning. It’s like they’re waiting for me, and when they see my car they tell one another: “Look mate, I’m gonna make him shit his pants” before throwing themselves in front of the car. I am now entering the village in first gear in heightened state of paranoia.
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