Thursday 1pm and another one of my infamous contretemps , this time with a very thorny pyracantha bush a client of mine wanted tidying. “There are some dead bits sticking up , could you please remove them?” 'Certainly Madam, you may be slightly eccentric but fear not for I will set about the task with whatever aplomb I can muster'
Anyone one who is familiar with pyracanthas will know that it is one of the most thorny bushes one can buy.They are very pretty in the autumn when they are covered with red berries which ,in turn, attract birds,which is all to the good .They are also most suitable for growing against walls and fences provided one keeps them trimmed ,but if they get out of hand they can be a nightmare to deal with.
Anyone one who is familiar with pyracanthas will know that it is one of the most thorny bushes one can buy.They are very pretty in the autumn when they are covered with red berries which ,in turn, attract birds,which is all to the good .They are also most suitable for growing against walls and fences provided one keeps them trimmed ,but if they get out of hand they can be a nightmare to deal with.
Anyway I digress. As I trimmed happily away I became quickly aware that I was being repeatedly stabbed by numerous thorns ,measuring between ½ to an 1 inch in length wearing gloves which were not much better than the washing up variety.I should have stopped and gone in search of a more rugged pair but being a man fully fitted with testicles, I decided to proceed stoically.What made matters worse was my own obduracy because despite the fact she had only asked me to trim the twigs that were clearly evident, I could see they were attached to much thicker branches worming their way into the bowels of the bush. Now man + testosterone+ stoicism + obduracy +arrant stupidity+ linear thinking meant that in my mind there was a goal to achieve which went beyond “trim a few dead twigs” for I was determined to removed every sign dead growth I could find and there was clearly far more than I had anticipated .
Someone had previously done some pruning but left the branches in there. Apparently my predecessor had spotted a rat scurrying around and did a runner.Did he suspect Ebola or even bubonic plague? Anyway my testosterone levels were such that was not going to let such triflings deflect me from the task in hand .This was my Alamein moment after all, and I felt like a Desert Rat in all but name.
Now a normal bush is quite easy to tackle , you just cut the branches wherever you wish and pull .There may be some entanglement which might mean a little more surgery, but nothing much to concern one .Pyracanthas are different because they are uber entangled ,a fact made worse by those fucking thorns I mentioned.The only way to tackle it was in a piecemeal fashion which meant a slow, laborious job removing bits of branch and twigs whilst being continuously stabbed on my hand and the top of my head which now resembled a crossword puzzle.Client stepped outside and looked rather concerned but – 'fear not Madam for I am nearly there', my eyes were bulging ,my breathing was rather heavy whilst a length of spittle dangled from the side of my mouth ,but my tenaciousness remained undimmed .
Normally after finishing such a task I feel sense of satisfaction.This was no different except I also a noticed nagging pain coming from a knuckle on my right hand which would not subside so I when i returned home I googled “stabbing pain, thorn in knuckle” etc and as is often the case the results I got included a number of the panic stations variety - “Go to AE, you might need an operation, have you had tetanus jab ,my son ended up in hospital for 3 days, poor lamb”
Anyway I phoned 111 which is the replacement for NHS Direct and spoke to a clinician who asked me several routine questions like “have you got a temperature ,is your hand very swollen,can you move your fingers” No to the first two and yes but not the index finger coz it hurties .She then suggested I keep my hand clean and take some ibuprofen. She obviously thought there was nothing to be alarmed about but the fact remains that as well as the aforementioned testosterone I am also a bit of a worry guts and fairly typical man flu victim to boot.
Nellie has kissed it better but as the pain is still very evident ,I should ,perhaps,put in practice that famous Arsenal football chant of the 70s :
“When you are feeling grotty just stick your finger up your botty.
When you are feeling glum just stick your finger up your bum”
Now a normal bush is quite easy to tackle , you just cut the branches wherever you wish and pull .There may be some entanglement which might mean a little more surgery, but nothing much to concern one .Pyracanthas are different because they are uber entangled ,a fact made worse by those fucking thorns I mentioned.The only way to tackle it was in a piecemeal fashion which meant a slow, laborious job removing bits of branch and twigs whilst being continuously stabbed on my hand and the top of my head which now resembled a crossword puzzle.Client stepped outside and looked rather concerned but – 'fear not Madam for I am nearly there', my eyes were bulging ,my breathing was rather heavy whilst a length of spittle dangled from the side of my mouth ,but my tenaciousness remained undimmed .
Normally after finishing such a task I feel sense of satisfaction.This was no different except I also a noticed nagging pain coming from a knuckle on my right hand which would not subside so I when i returned home I googled “stabbing pain, thorn in knuckle” etc and as is often the case the results I got included a number of the panic stations variety - “Go to AE, you might need an operation, have you had tetanus jab ,my son ended up in hospital for 3 days, poor lamb”
Anyway I phoned 111 which is the replacement for NHS Direct and spoke to a clinician who asked me several routine questions like “have you got a temperature ,is your hand very swollen,can you move your fingers” No to the first two and yes but not the index finger coz it hurties .She then suggested I keep my hand clean and take some ibuprofen. She obviously thought there was nothing to be alarmed about but the fact remains that as well as the aforementioned testosterone I am also a bit of a worry guts and fairly typical man flu victim to boot.
Nellie has kissed it better but as the pain is still very evident ,I should ,perhaps,put in practice that famous Arsenal football chant of the 70s :
“When you are feeling grotty just stick your finger up your botty.
When you are feeling glum just stick your finger up your bum”
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