I have found myself this week musing about the fact that Bob has now been away in South America for over a quarter. Admittedly we havn’t had as many detailed reports from him as we might have hoped for – although I do know he got badly sunburnt and slept in a hammock on a beach in Colombia for the last three nights - and you might think I am just being a soppy old boy, but two specific things have brought this contemplative mood on.
Firstly the Polo, which I told you about last week, has given up the ghost. During the summer Bob got the poor car stuck in a field countless times on various hunting excursions and cowped it fully into a ditch once. By the time he left I suspected it was living on dangerous ground, but Hen it was who was driving when the gear box started to make a wretched noise and car came to a screeching halt. The RAC retrieved it for us and brought it home and the diagnosis from the local garage is dire. It needs a new gear box which would cost substantially more than this wreck of a car is worth. So that was wretched news and churlish though it may seem I cursed him roundly.
And then Jimmy, deep in the final throes of a dissertation on the subject, coincidentally enough with the Polo in mind, of antiquity destruction, started to complain that pigeon cooing incessantly outside her work place were distracting her dreadfully. A protracted family discussion ensued over dinner the conclusion of which, it seemed to me at least, was that since the man of the house had left, the local wildlife had settled on our patch as a surprising haven of tranquillity after years in which it had progressively become a no-go zone for rabbits, squirrels, crows and pigeons alike. You may remember the deal that Bob had struck with Sophie regarding vermin control and the picture I sent you of chart on the fridge door plotting all the various hapless creatures he had despatched considerably supplementing his meagre pocket money allowance. You know me. I will rise to a challenge. I found the keys to the gun cabinet, helped myself to Bob’s silenced .410 and some cartridges and this week I have jumped from the dinner table on four separate occasions and stalked pigeons with close to 100% success. I get a kiss for each pigeon I shoot which is a sweet incentive too.
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