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Whacking and pulling
The two flies that I had immortalised yesterday by gluing them to my office ceiling were still there. I had picked up an aerosol can of paper glue instead of fly spray when planning to annihilate them. I thus climbed up onto my office chair, one of those trendy swivel chair types, in order to whack them with the end of a rolled up newspaper to dislodge them. Like I said, a 'swivel' chair and struth, could it swivel! Would you like me to continue? I thought not but never mind. I'll continue anyway. Suffice to say I discovered the skirting board in my office is just as hard as the one in my bedroom. Following the incident the other day when my nose collided with that one as a result of trying to put both legs down the same hole in my underpants. Anyway, as I said, the flies are still there.
"So I'll water the lawn." I said to myself. "I think I'll probably be safer in the garden than the house this morning."
My 'Guaranteed Never To Kink Or Split'* hosepipe that I'd bought only last month and as
manufactured by 'The People's Happy Go Lucky Bicycle Tyre, Hosepipe and Pharmaceutical Company
Shanghai' was seriously kinked and more water was coming out of the various splits, all of
which contrived to aim itself up my left trouser leg, than what was coming out of the end.
I was quite cross at this point. Understandable under the circumstances I thought. So
following a violent tug meant to actually inflict hurt and pain on an inanimate object I
just had sufficient time to reflect "That was immature!" Just before the moment the back of my
head made a similar impression on the rail at the bottom of the garden fence as my forehead had
done half an hour earlier on the office skirting board. The combined effects of a wet footpath and
the kinked hosepipe which unseen had conspired to loop itself around my, dry, up until that time
at least, right leg had caused me to lose my balance.
* Usual Chinese 'Full 12 month guarantee' - 'Return to Factory in Person' (in Shanghai!).
I therefore abandoned the idea of watering the lawn which anyway would have been a waste of time as it was now raining quite hard. I looked at my watch wondering "Did I crack the glass when I fell off the office chair or when I pulled myself over with the hosepipe." and noticed it was close to eleven O'clock. "Good grief, the refuse truck arrives about now, Memsahib will kill me if I don't put the wheelie bin out!"
I rushed round to the back of the house and grabbed the handle of the wheelie bin and pulled. Nothing happened. So I pulled harder. The handle of the local Commune's wheelie bin, as manufactured by the 'The People's Happy Go Wheelie Bin, Bandage and Breakfast Cereal Company Shanghai' came away from the bin. "Soddit!" I thought (only my thought included a word worse than 'Soddit'). The bin was full to the gunnels and weighed a tonne. So it was only following a superhuman effort did I manage to trundle the bin, on its diminutive little 'Happy Go Lucky Dinky Toy Wheels' down our gravel driveway to the roadside. "Mission accomplished!" I said to myself with a grin and gleefully strode up the driveway for a well deserved cup of coffee from a grateful Memsahib and thinking "Thank goodness, at least I don't have to try and get the jolly thing up the driveway when it's full."
"Why on earth did you put the bin out today?" Yelled Memsahib as I struggled to get my (wet) shoes off at the front door. "I told you they aren't coming this week. Something or other to do with 're-scheduling' routes. You'd better go back and get it otherwise everyone in the village will think we're idiots."
I’ve finished ‘whacking and pulling’ now.
For the day anyway.
