Scaryduck: Not Scary. Not a Duck

Seeing as the News of the World wasn't interested in the photo I found on Scaryduck's puter, my dream of retiring to sunnier climes has been shattered, and it looks like I'm stuck here for the duration.
Still, could be worse; I could be stuck in that cupboard with whatever it was that was making the scratchy sound.

Anyhoo.

I have decided today, to share one of my tales for those readers who don't know me that well. I do have a stockpile of drafts that Scary left me, but it was his suggestion to use this anecdote, so that's what you're getting. it was originally posted up here btw. Hope you like it*


Before recounting this tale, I must first describe the setting of the scene. My garden is fairly large and sort of divided into two parts - the first as seen from the road being 'the driveway' and the second, almost hidden from passers by being the patio.

There is one small area on the patio which can not be seen by the prying eyes of neighbours being hidden by trees and hedges, and also hidden from traffic and so by a couple of large hydrangea bushes.

This small area is my 'private' garden bit. It's where I can lie down, strip to bikini bottoms only, and relax listening to the peaceful sounds of birds singing, insects buzzing, trains hurtling past, air traffic and the wails of emergency sirens emanating from Hanwell Broadway.

I recently acquired a hammock. A free standing, metal framed, fabric affair which is wonderfully comfortable and soothing.

Earlier this afternoon, I decided to take advantage of the few rays of sunshine that were peeking playfully through the clouds, grabbed a book and a jug of squash, moved said hammock to my little spot, removed bikini top and settled down for an hour or so's R&R.

The hammock swayed in the gentle breeze, a butterfly fluttered past the fuchsia bush, my little dog decided to join me by my side, and before long I felt my eyelids start to feel heavy and I surrendered myself to the arms of Morphius.

That was when a fu**ing huge wood pigeon decided to try and land on my head.

I don't know if anybody else has been through a similar experience, but my reaction was to try and run away from the ba**ard. This maneuver involved attempting to stand, which - trust me on this - is so**ing well near impossible to do in a hammock, and sent me flying head first into a nearby stone plant holder. Luckily, my landing on the concrete patio was not as bad as it could have been, as a pile of holly leaves that had been swept into a pile helped break my fall.

To make matters worse, the feathery little s**t had somehow managed to get a claw entangled in my hair, so I calmly desperately tried to beat the f**ker off while shouting something along the lines of "Fu**ing get off me you c**ty little feathered s**t!" whilst running round the garden and stepping on a couple of nettles which just added to my joy...

After what seemed like an hour (but must only have been about thirty seconds) I finally got disentangled from the pigeon and stood panting, scratched, shocked and still topless on the patio.

It was then I noticed the group of mummies and daddies with a horde of small children that had stopped by my driveway and were staring at me open mouthed with the various adults trying to cover up the little ones eyes and ears.

I did the only thing possible I could think of in the circumstances and quickly ducked down out of sight behind the hydrangeas - only to put my hand on a f**king slug which burst.

I have now showered about seven times, have a large bruise coming up on my left buttock, various scratches and rashes which have had medicinal unguents applied, and am on my fourth cup of tea laced with a little brandy.

I have also gone right off wood pigeons.

*If you didn't, erm... tough.