HOME ALONE!

It certainly does take all sorts to make a world and we are told that every thing and everyone has a purpose under heaven. I have often wondered what purpose is served by mosquito, except perhaps to remind you not to loiter about in bosky places in the evening.

On this glorious summer afternoon ,the drowsy sound of a thousand grasshoppers was lulling me into a gentle doze when the air was rent by the sound of motor bikes,several motorbikes. Confused I opened my eyes....they were not in the garden though they sounded very close, I listened for a moment more the sound was coming from the graveyard behind the house.

The graveyard is an old one in which there have been no burials for almost two hundred years,those who read my ramblings regularly will know how long and hard the fight has been to have this lovely spot left undisturbed for the wild life …...and now we have a bunch of young tykes stooging around on scrambling bikes ,driving trough the undergrowth and terrifying the animals and birds.

My son had gone for a stroll,Pa was out on the buggy(we only have one now,mine has had to be scrapped) so I was effectively grounded and alone. I telephoned my son....no reply.......I telephoned Pa...............ditto...........now what?

Earlier in the day I had been collecting windfalls under the apple tree and had noticed that many of them were rotten and mushy,I grabbed a bucket and went to collect some ammo! The hose was running gently on a patch of greens, I turned up the pressure at the tap,adjusted the setting on the hose and ,behold...a water cannon.

I waited until I heard the bikes coming round again and as they drew level with the orchard I let them have the hose at full blast,I still could not see the little blighter’s but By the sound they were making I knew I had got' em. They yelled and screamed as the torrent of icy water hit them head on. They were angry,they wanted to know what was going on, I put down the hose and picked up the bucket of rotten fruit and as the first head appeared over the orchard wall I let fly a storm of decaying apples,from the cries of dismay I suspect that quite a few found their mark.

Now some of you my think my behaviour foolhardy and perhaps you are right. Had the buggy been available I should have confronted them in person,even more foolhardy,I hear you say.

Unfortunately I had seen the red mist and there can be no half measures once my ire has been thus aroused, it is a family failing ,inherited from my father, and has,in the past brought both fame and infamy upon the family.

All I care about is that my actions stopped further damage and the tykes on bikes departed worsted from the field and wet through into the bargain. Will they return with vengeance in their craven hearts? Who can say? Should they choose to do so they will be met with such determined force that they will wish they had the water cannon back again, beside the fact that I recognised the voices of the little pests and they are very possibly worrying if I will grass them up to their parents,even as I write. I shall not do so....this time. But should such a thing happen again......who knows?

Pa arrived home just as the rain began to fall,this meant that I had to forgo what used to be my daily ride,I miss my own little buggy, I miss the freedom.