Though I'm feeling a bit low with a cold, the weather is fantastic and so I decided today was the day. Hubbie was more interested in lighting a fire in the garden to burn away last spring's apple tree's prunings to help me so I duly donned the thigh length waders, snapped on some yellow marigolds and my zippy mac and walked, [John Wayne like,] towards the water. One sexy lady! Not!
The sproglets weren't that interested in me, preferring dad's adventure with fire and incendiary liquids rather than my slippy, smelly task.
I stood on the edge noting that the rain had filled the pond to the brim and eyed the dark water suspiciously.
'Are you sure you've been right into the middle of the pond with these waders on?' I shouted to Hubbie.
'Yes, in the summer remember?'
I couldn't really.
I started in the shallow pond, the place where the frogs and toads choose to lay their spawn. Gathering great handfuls of grass, leaf and weed I placed my harvest on the bank, hoping that disturbed creatures would crawl back into the water later. The pond gained a bit more depth and I, satisfied with my progress, moved on to the abyss, the bigger kidney shaped pond.
I first toured the edge again tearing away lengths of grass and armfuls of weed.
'Don't forget to pick up the waterlily so we can re-pot it,' called Hubbie.
'Will do' I said. This was going well. I felt very Monty-Donish.
It was tricky to see the lily, its rotting foliage was a couple of feet down towards the centre of the pond but I made my way gingerly towards it.
Ponds are slippy. [Not something of a surprise to you Dear Reader I'm sure.] I let out a sad, girly shriek as I realised my legs weren't as long as I'd like them to be.
The feeling of waders filling with sulphurous pond water is not one I'm going to forget any time soon and I was so heartened to see my delightful family on the bank as they charged over to
I carried on regardless, as I am a hero, though my movements were much slower as my legs felt like they'd each eaten a traditional British 3kg Christmas cake. With help from the sproglets on the bank (after they'd finally stopped giggling,) I manoeuvred a metre square island of reed grass to the side of the pond however, even with the help of Hubbie, we couldn't pull it out. In spring when the grass is less mushy to drive on, we'll put a tow rope around it and use the Discovery to yank it out.
All-in-all the job was completed well. The worst part of the task was trying to get back out of the pond and then having to lie on my back on the grass with my legs straight up, draining the fluids from my boots into my pants. At this exact moment a delivery van came to a halt on the drive; an online shopping delivery. The driver looked frightened, we didn't explain and he left very quickly. I'm glad he did leave, as the family insisted I strip on the doorstep before sending me for a shower. Apparently I didn't smell very nice. Fussy, fussy, fussy.
What's next? Bring it onnnnnnnn!
SOME DAYS LATER: Shush!! [whisper].......... I've just confessed to the Hubby that I've killed yet another mobile phone. This one was in my jeans pocket (i.e close to my pants) during the wader waterfall experience..... Dead mobile phone now resides in a jar filled with rice. Knickers! I'm banned from phone-owning.... will never get my hands on a bloody iPhone now! Bum!