SLUGGING IT OUT

On my way into the office this morning (okay - so I am not a full-time writer as much as I'd like to be), a guy on the pavement in front of me bent down to do up his shoe-lace. When he stood up again he only just avoided walking into a lamp-post, ducking sideways and letting out a yelp of terror as his hair brushed against the metal. He shot me a filthy look when I laughed out loud but I couldn't help it. It was so ... so Norman Wisdom! He jogged to catch up with his mate, who was none the wiser, and stole one final look of sheer dislike over his shoulder at me before they turned the corner. He couldn't have known I wasn't actually laughing at the fact he had almost brained himself on a lamp-post he had failed to see despite its size. I was just so relieved that it isn't just Ladies of Mature Years that do such things. A few months ago I actually winded myself walking into a set of railings outside the local park - railings I have walked past hundreds, even thousands, of times and never had a problem with. That night though, they caught me squarely in the solar plexus and I literally reeled as if I'd been hit by a sledge-hammer at the very least. It isn't just me then, I thought and continued to giggle all the way to work.

When I was thinking about what to write in my blog today, I found myself recalling how, only yesterday, I took it upon myself to feed a couple of slugs in my back garden. Hubby thinks I am quite odd because I talk with our cat, apologise to spiders and refuse to kill anything that flies into our home be it a wasp, damsel fly, dragon fly, moth or bumble bee. I can't help it. I have a healthy respect for everything living. But I am not sure I will tell him about the slugs. I think even he, for all the fact he loves and indulges me, would question my motives. It is simple really. We have a proper feeding station installed in our garden because we see so many species of birds there and have both become closet Twitchers. We also have a squirrel I have nicknamed Houdini because of the way he contorts himself to get into squirrel-proof bird-feeders in order to secure his breakfast.

Yesterday morning, I noticed as I went into the garden (or should that be out to the garden?), that there were two slugs on the patio attacking the little weeds that have spung up between the paving slabs. Do they know what a favour they are doing us on that patio? It will save Hubby or I having to get out the strimmer - at least for a little while. Anyway, I was amazed out how one of the slugs was standing upright (yes you read that right, it was standing upright) in order to reach the top of the weed it was attacking. It reminded me of a giraffe and I thought that it must take some doing to stand upright like that when you have no backbone to help you! That must one hungry slug! So I went into the kitchen, pulled out a little grape from the bunch on the shelf, cut into bits and put them down near the slugs. Then, with a writer's curiosity, I watched to see how they'd react. At first their little antennae withdrew whenever they touched these cold wet objects suddenly blocking their path. It did not take them long to realise, however, that the objects were sweet manna from Heaven (well from me anyway, though they'd never know of course) and I actually felt quite satsified as they chomped their way through (surprisingly quickly) before attacking the weeds with renewed relish. I make no apologies for my nurturing nature - after all they didn't ask to be born slugs! Still, maybe I shouldn't mention it to Hubby; he indulges me in most of my whims (bless him) but I think even he would draw the line at my tendency to Adopt-A-Mollusc...........