I was sitting here at well after 1am and I could hear the helicopter very close to our roof. When I lived in Portsmouth as a child I never notice dthe helicopters much becuase the sound was so common. Once I moved to Oxford the helicopters always seemed to be the harbingers of doom especially along the river where we lived.

Here in yokel-ville the helicopter is usually about joy riders or ‘runners’ who take advantage of the cops’ inability to follow them past a certain point in a car. WE had a runner hide in our wendy house one summer which frightened the life out of dh. (I’ll tell you that tale another day)

We had a fright the other week when the air ambulance circled the house then landed on the park at the top of our road where all the kids play. It turned out to have come down to get to a man who had been found in his kid’s paddling pool. Although we didn’t know him personally he was well known to many round here and everyone was upset to hear that he didn’t make it. He left a wife, a four year old and a four month old baby on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Tonight I don’t know what they were looking for but I hopped out into the front garden to see if I could see the searchlight – and stepped on a slug with my bare foot

Actually it wasn’t a bare foot; it was my left foot which is partly covered with my compression stocking which I wear to help my leg function better than it does on its own due to the DVT in it. There is yucky sticky slugness on the stocking too.

Serves me right for being nosy.


4 Comments to “Nosy”

  1. Oooh, yeah I’m always looking out when the helicopter comes past. One time it hovered right over me and I was full blaze in it’s spotlight. Gave me a horrible scary powerless feeling, like something out of ‘Fahrenheit 451′ or Logans Run’ or something.

    Snails are the worst when padding about outside in the dark…even with shoes on, it’s the crunch that does it, like smashing a whole pack of Jacobs crackers with soft centres. And then seeing the flattened remains the next day on the path, my crime displayed there for all to judge me by.

    As a child we had an outdoor toilet where the wellies were kept. One day I forgot to shake out my wellies before putting them on, and found that I had squashed the most enormous fat-bodied black spider, those giants that you find hiding in your outhouses in the countryside in Autumn. Bare foot. Squashed giant hairy spider. I still shiver at the thought of trying to scrape this not-quite-dead thing off the ball of my foot.

  2. Lol, I stepped on a king slug last summer and it took for ages to wash the goo off the bottom of my foot. Extraordinarily sticky stuff!

  3. You’d think they could find a use for that goo, wouldn’t you?

  4. I’ve done that. It’s horrible, but probably worse for the slug.

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