The previous owners here had made a pond and a pathetic waterfall/water-feature-type thing. It was so bad it is simply impossible to describe in grown-up language. As I sit here and write I can feel myself getting irritated at how crap it was and how proud the owner was of it; as if it was a major selling point of the house:
“Now let’s see, the central heating’s fucked, the tiles in the bathroom have been put up by someone with vertigo and no thumbs, the electrics look as if they’re pre-war (that’s the Crimean War) and the garden’s full of bamboo, but hey! It’s got a water feature. We must have it!”
See what I mean?
Well, the frogs that were thrown in when the deal was sealed (£395,000 for freehold property as described plus 3 frogs) finally got the move they’d obviously been dying for last week, when with my youngest son we caught them, put them in a bucket and took them to the pond in the nature reserve (tip) at the end of our street. There, he and I bid them a fond Adeiu, whereupon they leapt with gay abandon into the murky tadpole-infested waters. We scuttled off for a walk round said reserve during which time, our frogs were probably being greedily gobbled up by the local Heron or suchlike. I didn’t mention this to my youngest who is of a nervous disposition where animal welfare is concerned.
I am already looking forward to smashing the water feature to smithereens with the pickaxe I nicked from the builders.
© Andy Daly 2010