Archive for February 22nd, 2008

My trees eat lorries

Grandad February 22nd, 2008

Our K8 wrote a while ago about her carnivorous plant.  Her plant ate teeny little flies.  I can go one better than that.  I have trees that eat lorries.

Yesterday I got a letter.

Well, actually, I didn’t.  A letter was chucked over my gate into a puddle, the night before, and a neighbour kindly brought it into me.  It was sopping wet, but I managed to read it.

It was from another neighbour.  I’ll call him Mr Digger.

Now, Mr Digger wants some changes up our lane, and he is rounding up support.  So everyone got this letter, including my puddle.

What does he want?

First and foremost, he is losing a lot of sleep over two lads and their widowed mother.  They have been refused planning permission, and are currently living in squalor in a mobile home.  He wants them to get planning permission with our support.

Hmmmm?  ‘Two lads’?  They are around thirty years of age.  Their ‘widowed mother’?  She walked out on the family years ago and bought a house in Spain.  They don’t live in the mobile home either.  I met one recently going up to the old home to collect his post [mail].  I am all for the “lads” getting permission, and have done everything in my power to help.   What the hell is going on here?  Then it struck me.  Mr Digger applied for planning permission himself, some years ago, and was also refused.  So the crafty bugger is getting ‘the two lads’ to do all the fighting with the council, employing engineers and surveyors, in the hope that if they get permission, that he can then reapply too.

I also find it strange that he has developed such a fondness for ‘widowed mothers’, seeing as he bullied my [widowed] mother into her 80s to an extent that she required medical attention and the services of a solicitor.  He stopped bullying her then, for some reason.

The reason that planning permission is being refused is that my lane meets the main road on a bend.  It is therefore difficult to see if there is a car coming.  But we manage, no problem.  But according to Mr Digger - “I think most of us would agree that this is an accident waiting to happen, if something is not done soon“.  I don’t agree.  I have been living here for forty three years and there hasn’t been an accident?

What he wants is for us to donate some land so they can change the entrance.  He can fuck off.

He is also complaining about the potholes in the lane.  We do have a magnificent collection.  They are the envy of the county.  The irony here, is that Mr Digger ran a haulage plant hire business from his house for many years [did he have planning permission for that?] and was constantly trundling low-loaders, JCBs and the like up and down.  That’s what wrecked the lane in the first place.

He also doesn’t like my trees.  I have a wildlife stretch of woodland beside the lane with a nice selection of fir trees and silver birch.  I have let it grow wild and I think it is attractive.  It is very rural, and the wildlife loves it.  Every spring it is full of nesting birds and they sing their hearts out all summer.  I even have a resident red squirrel.

red_squirrel

I will quote the next bit because it is all about my trees.

“Overgrown / protruding hedges and or overhanging trees onto the laneway at the cul-de-sac need to be cut back and maintained to their proper boundary lines, thereby exposing the full width of the lane to safe and unobstructed movement of vehicles, let them be large or small.
For example: oil delivery, furniture removal, goods delivery / Eircom / ESB trucks etc, are being scraped and damaged as a result of protruding boundaries.  Furthermore vehicle side wing mirrors are being obstructed by overhanging trees and hedges, which could result in further damage, or indeed injury to persons.  In conjunction with the above we as residents also have an obligation to maintain such free unobstructive access, not only for our own convenience but also for the emergency services, i.e. Fire Tenders, Ambulances, etc.”

Fighting talk, huh?  Very emotive stuff.  All these ambulances and fire tenders constantly roaring up and down our lane?  They only do that when I set the neighbours house on fire from time to time.  And how can an overhanging tree result in injury to a person?  Apparently my trees attack lorries, but they have never attacked a person that I know of?  In fact, we have had some very big lorries up and down the lane, with no problem.

There is also talk that the lane should be widened to a two lane road.  What?  Why?  That is a big fuck off too.

He also talks of how my trees are causing properties “to be seriously devalued, and will remain devalued resulting from the untidiness“.  Wowee! I’m seriously devaluing everyone’s property, am I?  That is very strange.  A small house recently went for auction on the lane.  It sold for 50% above the asking price.  I must grow more trees! If that is serious devaluation, then bring it on!!

What it boils down to is this.  He wants street lights.  He wants wide roads with footpaths.  He wants road names.  He wants all hedges and trees neatly trimmed and tidy.  Does that sound familiar?  Yes.  Suburbia.  So why doesn’t he fuck off back to suburbia where he belongs?  He’d be much happier there.  And the rest of us who like the orderly chaos of nature can continue to enjoy the countryside.

He’s holding a meeting next week to ‘discuss’ all of this.

I’m going.

Me and my shotgun.

And I’m thinking of setting TAT on him.

Fred

Grandad February 22nd, 2008

I had to go out yesterday, but that’s another story.

As I drove up my lane on the way home, I met an old man.  I slowed the car as he seemed confused.  He eventually stepped to one side and I drove in my gate.

I went over to him then and asked if he was all right.  He had a frightened look in his eyes.  He looked at me and whispered so I could barely hear.

"I’ve lost my dog."

"What colour is he?" I asked.

He didn’t seem too sure.  He looked about him as if expecting a prompt from the wind.

"Black," he murmured.  He then shuffled off down the lane with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

-oOo-

Much later, I called in to visit a neighbour.  We had a grand old chat about this and that.  I got up to go. As I was heading for the door, my neighbour mentioned that they had a strange dog in the back garden.  My neighbour is scared of dogs, so I went out on my own into the dark.

There was a tiny terrier standing on the patio.  He wasn’t looking at me.  He wasn’t looking at anything.  He was very old and obviously blind.  I think he may have been deaf too.  I crept softly up to the dog and put my hand under his nose, to let him get my scent.  He trembled a bit and then relaxed, so I gave him a gentle petting.

I rushed back out to the main road and called into the house where the old man lived.  I banged on the door.  The old lady of the house answered and looked at me suspiciously, until she saw who it was.  She looked tired, drawn and worried.

"You lost a dog?" I asked.  There was a gleam of hope in her eyes as she nodded.

"Is he blind?" I asked gently.  She nodded again, and a tear began to form.

"Wait there," I said, and rushed back to my neighbours.  The dog relaxed when I picked him up.  He knew my scent now, but was still a bit scared.  I carried him as gently as I could back to the old woman.  Her husband had joined her at the front door.  They looked very alone, standing there waiting.

As I walked into the pool of light from the porch, they saw the dog.  The fear and hope gave way to joy.  The old man held out his arms, and I gave him the dog to cuddle.  "Fred," was all he said.  He was crying.

The woman too was crying.  She said they had spent the day looking for Fred.  She had washed him the day before and had forgotten to put his collar back on.  And then that morning, in a moment of absence, her husband had left the gate open.  They had been frantic with worry.  They had searched high and low and had walked the entire neighbourhood.  Fred was their comfort and joy.  They feared he was dead as he couldn’t protect himself from cars, being blind.  They had been heartbroken.

They thanked me as I left.  "You don’t know what this means to us," the woman said.  "I think I do," I replied and left them to their reunion.

As I walked home in the dark, the thought struck me…….

Fuck!  That’ll be us in a few years time!