A Sting in the Tail...

It's difficult to write of normal, everyday things after my last entry. Things will never be the same again but we must go on...

So... this weekend I have been working in my garden. The blistering heat of the UK wide heat wave wasn't as stifling today or yesterday which was a blessing but didn't stop me showering with suntan lotion before even thinking of stepping outside. Since I am a pale sort, I usually just need to think the word 'sun' and I'm burnt. However, this time I've been blessed with, well, if not a glowing tan, then at least some cute freckles across my nose!

My first gardening escapade also involves shopping which gave me an extra bit of yay in my day! Yesterday morning I enjoyed a trip to our local Dobbies Garden Centre for a coffee. Well, I had a cream scone and a strawberry frappe, but more about that later. When in any garden centre, my eyes and feet are always drawn to the dead or dying plant section. You can usually get some bargains on plants that are perfectly fine if perhaps just a little unloved or unwatered!

My foray into the section was very fruitful as I got a pink patio rose and four healthy herbs - all for the bargain price of £10. I don't know how much the herbs should have been but the rose was originally priced at £15.99 and I got it for a fiver. Bargain!

Pretty pink patio rose.

The box of cheap herbs (£1 each!).

The rest of my garden is looking fab if I do say so myself.

Patio area.

Veggies coming along nicely (carrots, onions and spinach).

Spanish and English Lavender along the stone path.

Pretty daisies in the wild garden.

I have an apple!!!

Unfortunately, I have a tale of woe that accompanies my days of gardening. The sting in my tale. Or, more accurately, tail.

The way my garden is set up, I have the grass in the centre and the flower beds, paths and kitchen garden (my fancy way of saying vegetable patches!) around the outside. That way, I can usually sit on the grass and weed the closer edges of the garden. As I was nearing the end of the day and with the exceptionally hot weather, I was sitting on my grass, pulling weeds and just shuffling along on the grass. I wasn't even bothering to use my pretty pink garden kneeling cushion - probably because by this time I was too tired to actually kneel.

I was certainly a lot more awake with what happened next.

I should probably note two things that are pertinent to my story.

1) Because of the weather, I was wearing a vest top and some indecently inappropriate boxer shorts.
2) My grass is covered in clover and daisies.

As I shuffled along, I appeared to sit on a pretty patch of clover. I felt a small, shall we say, nip, to my, shall we say, derriere. I quickly moved, thinking I had perched on a thistle amongst the clovers. Alas, the angry buzzing noise quickly dispelled me of that notion!

Pretending a maturity that's actually quite laughable, I decided to journey inside and phone my mum to ascertain the correct remedy for a likely sting.

The likely sting became pretty damn real by the time I'd reached the phone as I was writhing on the floor in gathering pain. My phone call to my mum was slightly fraught especially since my dad was nice and chatty when he answered. I felt quite mean as I practically screamed and cried for him to get my mummy. Yes, I am 31 years old! My only saving grace is that I wasn't on a video phone as I writhed around the floor, trying to clutch both a phone and my right buttock while trying to hold down a normal conversation.

The hysteria continued until mum asked the question that caused silence to descend - "have you got the sting out?".

Tumbleweed.

And then more fraught screams as I demanded to know how on earth I could know - I can't see my bum! I dread to think what my neighbours and passersby thought of this rather loud proclamation. Luckily, I was too occupied to care!

Long story short, my mum had to come round and check the sting was gone. She then had to administer the TCP (as I couldn't be sure if it was a bee or a wasp) and tuck me in to bed with my teddy and a cup of milk. The last part is obviously false. The first part, sadly, is not!

I am now left with a massive welt and bruise on my tush and a story to tell.


After that humiliation, back to more appealing things. Here is a picture of my delicious cream cherry scone and strawberry frappe. My favourite part about the frappe was that it was a portion of fruit for the day as well as being loaded with cream and marshmallows. Yum!

Be happy.

B x