Overheard at the boundary

The characters -
Head Monkey
Grey Goosie
Wise Monkey
Custard
The Great Stabber (unseen and unheard, but definitely there)
and a rather grumpy bottle of beer who becomes more subdued as the scene progresses.

The scene - A Sunday cricket match in a rather chilly June. We are near the boundary, listening to the assorted shouts of exasperated bowlers and cheering team mates. The dying sun casts long shadows across the field as the match draws to a close. If we listen carefully, we can just hear a whispered conversation coming from a small group of friends...

Custard - 'Is that our chap out there bowling?'
Wise Monkey - 'I think so - hard to tell from here, they look the same from a distance, and all dressed in white.'

Grey Goosie - 'Can someone tell me who I am, where am I and why I am please? I'm only two hours old.'
Head Monkey - 'You are a mere babe! We saw you being created by the Great Stabber. You are at a cricket match and your name is Grey Goosie.'
Grey Goosie 'What is cricket? Who is the Great Stabber? Why? How? When?'



(momentary distraction as attention reverts to the match)

Head Monkey - 'Oh good running sir!'
Custard - 'I wish I could run like that, but alas, I am legless'
Bottle of Beer 'Well don't blame me! I didn't ask you to stick your great yellow snout into my neck!'
Wise Monkey - 'Calm down, Beer, he meant legless as in legless, not as in legless. But then, you are a rather fine specimen of Fiddler's Elbow, so you must expect to be drunk, if you pardon the pun.'

(The bottle of beer subsides, grumbling, then squeaks as it is plucked from its resting place. When it returns, it is somewhat quieter).

Grey Goosie - 'So why are we here? What are we doing? Who are you all?'
Custard - 'Well I am waiting for my legs, then I will be going to my new home. I have heard that she is a lovely, gentle lady who lives in a magical palace filled with wondrous materials and treasures.'
Head Monkey - 'I have been waiting for the rest of my body for weeks...I am destined to travel far across the ocean to sunny climes' (he shivers as a breeze cuts across the field) 'and not before time - this country is far too cold for a monkey. I have heard that my new mistress is a talented artist who creates delightful books for children. I am to be her special toy, all her own. I would jump for joy, except I am only a head...'
Wise Monkey - 'And you have been made in my image. I belong to the Great Stabber. Before that I belonged to her father, and he brought me from a far hotter country than you are destined for. Although I too am missing some limbs, I am very old, and one of her prized possessions.'
Grey Goosie (breaking in impetuously) - 'What about me? What about me? Where am I going? Who will love ME? More importantly, why haven't I got a proper grown-up beak?'

(There is a startled gasp from the beer bottle as yet again it is lifted from the table top, to a mysterious Somewhere high above their heads).

Wise Monkey - 'Oh impatient youth! Barely three hours old and already seeking the answer to everything. For every creature there is a home. It is written in the stars'
Custard - 'We have heard tell of Mavis, who stayed on the toy shelf for many weeks, but at last found a home and flew hundreds of miles to live with a fairy artist. She even laid an egg on her journey. You will find your Someone, one day. When there's a bit more of you.'
Head Monkey (grumpily) - 'I wish there was a bit more of ME!'
Wise Monkey - Now hush, my children, the sun is sinking and the wind is gathering...let us snuggle into our basket and I will tell you stories of toys who were found, and we will dream...'

(As the curtain descends on the drowsy scene, the beer bottle is heard gurgling emptily off-stage, before silence falls, disturbed only by tiny snores emanating from the sewing basket).

Skull snake Sunday

Early last Sunday morning I got that antsy 'I need to get out and right this very minute' feeling. So I did. For once the Sun was out and about and doing his job of making a nice summer's morning. The woods were empty of humankind, the balmy breeze fluttered the leaves, and tranquility reigned. Then a squirrel dropped its breakfast almost on my head, whether intentionally or not I don't know - I don't trust the little beggars. It was a half gnawed pine cone, still sticky and pungent with sap. Seconds later, a large rabbit, pot-size, lolloped heavily across the path and a few steps on, I found treasure...

...a roe deer skull. Lacking in its lower jaw, but still a Find. Even I wouldn't traipse around the woods carrying a moist, weather beaten skull in my hand, so I made it a handle from a beech twig -

and continued my ramble. And that was it, really, a jolly nice walk in which nothing of of moment happened. Until I was rattling downhill on my way homewards and spotted a snake across my path. Snakes are so rare nowadays, and I haven't seen one for years. I screeched poor Hercules to a juddering halt and thrust him in the hedgerow while I scampered back to investigate. It wasn't moving. It looked asleep. I prodded it and decided that it was, alas, one very dead grass snake. But, still riches indeed. And only just killed, as it was in near perfect condition.

At home, having shown Andy my spoils, I measured it - 70 cm from tip to tail.

The only sign of injury was the bloodshot eyes. I noticed my hands had an odd smell after handling it, which I could only describe as 'snakey'. It would be wonderful if I could preserve the carcass, so I hung it, tail first, from the yard wall, in the sun; maybe the skin would dry round the skeleton.

But the morning was creeping into afternoon and there was a cricket match to watch and play...

...and the magical combination of Country Living, H.E Bates and a bottle of Old Speckled Hen to be enjoyed.

It was an OK game, if somewhat dull. Our team won, and we biked home in a soft summer's dusk through the back lanes.



Back at the Hovel, sounds of disgust were heard emanating from the yard. My snake was apparently a little high and there were reports of maggots. I didn't believe it myself, but for Andy's sanity I reluctantly let him bag it up and my poor snake had an ignomous burial in the wheely bin.

Sweet and sweet is their poisoned note,
The little snakes of silver throat,
In mossy skulls that nest and lie,
Ever singing "die, oh! die."

(from The Phantom-Wooer by Thomas Love Beddoes)

Beating Minster Lovell

Today 'we' played cricket at Minster Lovell, a friendly team - but this time it was a league game, so the gloves were off - or on, if you were batting or keeping wicket. Minster is not far from Swinbrooke and nearly as pretty. Andy had the all the fun of playing under the hot sun...

Andy, third man in white from the left, batting.

While I did the difficult bit - sitting with 'the wives', putting the world to rights and enjoying the usual rituals of (partially) watching the match.


I think we won. The chaps seemed very pleased, anyway.

Mad dogs and Englishmen...