Sitting in my garden, surrounded by trees with the last glow of the day casting a glorious light on proceedings, I can’t help but feel content. Yes, there are weeds and slugs and other wee beasties surrounding me. Yes, there is the tinkling of the ever present ice cream van which continues until the final rays have bid their farewell to the day and yes, the blithering fox is still squarking away in the allotments down the road, an ever present being at this particular time of year, but it’s lovely.
There is, however, a downside to having a large cherry tree in your garden, just above where the car is parked. Bird poo. The bat mobile (I promise you it looks nothing like a bat mobile, but 4 year olds enjoy naming things, and who am I to quash imagination?) spends every evening as an open target for all the flying wildlife that enjoy a stop over on the cherry tree’s branches, before going on their way, and consequently, every morning, we potter down the garden to see how much coverage has happened overnight. I’d like to believe that I could keep this barrage under control, but sadly, it just doesn’t figure high enough on my agenda. But there comes a day when the embarrassment of driving around in a bird toilet gets the better of you. And today was that day.
Morning things happen and, just before I knuckle down to things which cannot be put off any more, I go for an indulgence from the wonderful Waitrose. A free coffee. Did you know you could pick up a free beverage every day with a Waitrose card? Genius, as I always have a quick saunter around, looking at things I’d like to buy if I had the money.
Which sometimes, I do.
So I head off to Waitrose and suddenly have a slight misgiving. Can I really drive through the car park in a bird toilet? I take the bull by the horns, decide it’s not my issue, and, head held high, I find a spot, do the necessary, and dismount. Do you dismount from a car? Anyway, I get out. Slowly, I scan the other cars in the car parking area, looking to see just exactly how much the bat mobile stands out in the crowd. The car next to me is covered with some sort of sticky stuff. The car opposite has also been treated to a bird party. The car next to that obviously has issues with a muddy driveway. And so it continues. Well, actually, I stop looking and flounce up the escalator with a spring in my step.
Later that day, myself and my beautiful 4 year old assistant clean the car. Just as we’re about to leave, we hear hear a large plop on the roof.
That’s the thing about trees.