there was a hedgehog in the garden who hoggedly snuffled and shuffled his way through the geranium clumps…. the only surety I had that he was there at all was a trail quavering leaves as he slug-ploughed his way through its undergrowth as he made his way undeterred by man, beast or geranium……….
… on reaching the edge of this substantial bedding clump, which must have resembled a forest to him, all that’d appear from the other side was a constantly-moving sniffing snout as though he knew full well I was still there watching, and even though I didn’t move a movement or sound a sound he remained safely ensconced in several species of cranesbill……
… in the end his patience won out while mine run out and I surrendered to the formidable force of Zen that is the hedgehog and went back into the house becoming a sofahog beneath my own clump of cushions to wile away an hour or so staring at the television and an episode of a series I’m slavishly hooked on… albeit bizarrely a christmas episode… in summer, in July, in Britain, in the northern hemisphere…. clearly TV schedulers hadn’t spotted the anomaly……. this strange habit now for all television series is to have the obligatory and generic schmaltzy seasonal episode…… but then the idiot box has become increasingly more idiotic…….. and predictable…… hundreds of carbon-copy channels chasing down, or up, intangible ‘ratings‘…….. may as well be sculpting thin air……. all despite the tangled undergrowth of listings of so-called ‘choice‘ through which I have to snuffle and shuffle to find anything worth watching………..
…. or I could just eat slugs……..
© robert greig 2017