'A bit of flint in your wellie' Day

Today was one of those strange kind of days where you find yourself suddenly involved in something that would never have crossed your mind when you clambered out of bed that morning. Nothing serious, I hasten to add, nothing life changing or even symbolic, just not of the normal run. I stopped watching Last of the Summer Wine years and years ago but there is one scene I always remember from the dim and distant past where Compo finds something in his wellington boot and utters the immortal lines 'Well, who’d have thought that when I got up this morning I’d have found a bit of flint in my wellie' That is how I feel today.

My walk down into town was uneventful until, whilst crossing the retail park car park, a woman who had just seconds before passed me by on the footpath walked a few more yards on and fell flat on her face. I heard her yell and an ominous thump and turned to see her flat on the floor. I ran back to see if I could help. She was dazed and incoherent, also her nose started to bleed, all I could do was to give her tissues, thankfully clean ones, and tell her to pinch the fleshy part of her nose. Someone came by and stopped and I asked if they could find a first-aider from the nearest shop and they dashed off. A man came over to help but there wasn’t much we could do until a young man from Next came rushing over with his first aid kit. The man and I said our quick farewells and drifted away. I do hope she was all right.

Later that day, after a long phone call with a friend who wanted me to check various pieces of art work she’d produced for their new web-site, as soon as I put the phone down it rang again. It was thus that 15 minutes later we found ourselves in next door’s back garden burying Brian the budgie. Our neighbours were on holiday and their elderly mother was staying to look after the three cats and the budgie. This budgie was 15 years old, I don’t know if that is a good age but for the last three months he (well she actually but always known as Brian) had been seemingly on his/her last legs but still eating and whistling. Mother had come home from the market and found him/her feet up on the floor of the cage. So, we found a small box, picked up a spade and made our way next door. We buried him/her under the plum tree saying bye, bye, Brian, good night and God bless. Mother was upset that Brian had died on her watch but it was bound to happen sooner rather than later and luckily we were there to help.

Definitely a 'flint in your wellie' day.