I left you last time with the tale of my bus and having a job at last. So now I will tell you about my holiday. Yes, holidays already and my birthday. It was a great delight and surprise to discover I get to choose my holidays and days off, in fact on receiving this information I looked so shocked and pleased that it caused one of my colleagues to burst out laughing. Because dear readers as many of you are doctors (and teachers etc etc) and thus aware, I have never had non rota-ed in holidays. Choice is a wondrous thing and I find myself actually struggling to decide when to take off. However, a clear winner was the period around my birthday so I booked the week. The only down side to my new found freedom is the pay packet that comes with and as such overseas adventures are denied to me so instead I went north, homeward bound once again.
Many of you hardcore fans will be aware that last year my mother got in tow with a fancy man then moved house. Well, the brazen hussy has taken it even further and is moving again and this time with the fancy man! The new house is in Tain so not too far away from Dingwall and the move is at the end of this week, so my sojourn to the fair county was still based at Gateside her old new house (it’s confusing isn't it?).
The good thing about Gateside is that it is in the centre of town and in easy walking distance to everything, but bad part of it is the parking. No, no, not the fact you have to reverse into the driveway between a railway crossing safety sensor thing and a wall and then tuck the car into the small space next to my mum’s car. No, no I have mastered that like a pro, I might even start trying to reverse park soon *laughs* , it is the birds. Next to mum’s parking area is a small triangle of land called a community garden. Hmm, yes I’m not sure a bit of grass with a few dead rose bushes constitutes a garden, but it belongs to the council and at the edge of the ‘garden’ and the driveway there is a large weed tree.
Do you know what I mean by that? It is a tree that has leaves that look like nasty maple leaves and apparently their tree spawn (seeds? Dear lord I can remember none of my higher biology, how embarrassing) spread forth and cause horticulturists many a headache. Well, it’s one of them and as such unsightly, but also uncuttable down because it belongs to the council and that would cost money *gasp*.
Apart from it over hanging into my mother’s land and looking unsightly, it also seems to the home of every bird in Dingwall. I think it might be the bird equivalent to the Mallard, the local pub as every type of bird seems to inhabit it at various times of the day, it is no one bird’s castle. I have nothing against birds, but a great issue I do take with them is their toileting habits. I mean what other animal literally craps where they stand? Cats sneak away and bury it, dogs usually go against a wall or the edge of the garden and rarely crap in their own house/bed, but birds; they just go whether it be mid air, sitting in their ‘pub’, walking along the sunny pavement or in their nests. It weird and gross.
So getting back to the point- birds crap. Birds live in the tree over hanging my mum’s driveway. Simone is parked there. By the end of a lovely few days being force fed by mum and visiting tropical gardens, Simone was completely and utterly covered in layers upon layers of bird crap. And this was no ordinary bird crap. It wasn’t that nice white powdery stuff you normally get, it was a thick disgusting browny gloop which was cemented to the car. Just before my departure I thought I should clean it off. It took almost an hour of concentrated water pouring, ice scraper offing to get it to budge. There was one particularly large, solid, stuck-on crap on the roof and I scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until at last it came off. However, I then took a step back and the light hit poor little Simone and it was then I realised that I had scrubbed too hard and I had scratched her! This put me in a very bad mood for about 25 minutes and required chocolate.
However, I recovered, apologised for being grumpy to my poor, long suffering mother then decided to go back to the ‘burgh. By this time of course another bird crap had appeared on the windscreen and so the fond farewell was delayed slightly by having to clean this off. Then finally we hugged and I went to depart when I heard a shriek from my mother. A bird had crapped on her! No, wait, it hadn’t- it was transfer crap from me, a bird had crapped on me! Not only that, it had managed to crap on my side under my arm. This made no sense, how could the crap get there and not on my arm? Then it dawned on me, I must have been crapped on whilst stretched over the car cleaning off the latest crap from the windscreen. Whilst a small part of me acknowledges and repects the sheer determination of the birds the poo everywhere, this was a tad aggravating and did put an end to the touching goodbye my mother and I were attempting.
I did eventually leave and had a slow journey back to my adopted home behind lots of caravans travelling to the Royal Show. I parked Simone and had a lovely evening in with the landlady wife who opened champagne, cooked me tea and gave me flowers and a handbag for my birthday- she’s such a good wife.
The next day I went to do the food shopping so popped out the flat and down the stairs to the car park where little Simone was parked. And on the windscreen there were, you guessed it, a large crap.
I hate birds.