Gary Strachan – "Write" Said Fred

Off The Wall Essays From Deep Within A Capricious Mind

Weeds

Through the French doors a sun kissed lawn, tubs of kaleidoscopically coloured winter pansies, budding clematises and a variety of perennial shrubs provide the chromatic backdrop to today’s prose.

That being said, the lawn, although green and healthy, is currently not at its cosmetic best. Its facade tainted by several moribund weeds. These unwelcome plants in their final days, following an act of horticultural genocide by yours truly, made more noticeable as they brown and unceremoniously wither.

These weeds predominantly dandelions who despite their not unappealing flower were nevertheless unwelcome in my mum’s back yard. These rogue plants now poisoned and in the last throes of life, before they push up the daisies (so to speak).

My heavy handed eradication of these unwanted flora/fauna perhaps more eloquently best summed up in the following limerick……..:-

There was once was a man from Leeds

Who’d a penchant for doing good deeds

But when deprived of his kip

His halo would slip

When he’d sadistic massacre weeds.

……… Or maybe not!

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My ‘weapon’ of choice for condemning these parasitic plants to death was a weed-killer sprayed directly onto the horticultural pest. A surprisingly cathartic task; although it did make me wonder if experiencing such joy at killing a living thing was something I needed to address.

I’m obviously not committing any crime with this massacre, however the excessive levels of schadenfreude experienced from the act of weed murder made me briefly reflect on my current mental state. It was only a fleeting ponder, though, after concluding if I didn’t eradicate them my lawn would suffer greater infestation and even worse aesthetics. For the sakes of the grass aesthetics these rogue plants had to go.

Consequently, while now witnessing their leaves wither I do so with a clear conscience. Not to mention an inward macabre cackle not dissimilar to that of actor Vincent Price at the end of Michael Jackson’s Thriller.

The day after I last wrote about gardening an acquaintance told me “I’d no idea you liked gardening, Gary!” To which I responded “Well, yeah I do.”

It wasn’t the most exciting conversation I’ve ever been involved in, however I thought I’d include the interaction in essay should you be ever asked the question in a quiz. It may seem unlikely, but the previous paragraph could mean the difference between you snatching £20,000 from the grasp of The Sinnerman or not on TV’s The Chase……. Unless of course, in the equally unlikely scenario, the boss-eyed clever sh**e reads my blogs, in which case it possibly won’t be of any help whatsoever!

Bearing in mind I’ve been restricted with my gardening maintenance as a consequence of two serious illnesses in 2019, I’ve managed to get mon et mes mamans jardin (which I also tend) to a pleasingly colourful and neat level of appearance.

Incidentally, have I told you the day after I last wrote about gardening an acquaintance told me “I’d no idea you liked gardening, Gary!” To which I responded “Well, yeah I do.”

I have?!…. Blimey, having a memory like a goldfish doesn’t make this writing malarky any easier!!

Categories: Blogs, family, fiction, humour

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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