Pathologist needed...

Our box hedge is looking a bit ill. It’s really spindly in its lower regions and dying off in its top region. In fact, it’s so spindly in its lower regions that there is a hole in it. A child sized hole. JR came home the other night to find a child in the hedge, caught in the full glare of the headlights.

The child shot off, but JR called her back and told her nicely but firmly not to play in the hedge. The child ran off, bawling.

Popped out to Dobbies for a browse, and possibly definitely a scone, perchance to speak to a hedge expert. Which we did. The nice gardening man thinks that our sick hedge may have ‘box blight’. We should send a sample off to the ‘plant pathologist’ at the Botanic Gardens. Sounds terribly serious, if not even - terminal. Jings! We can’t be without the hedge. It can’t die!!!

While browsing the chimineas, I kept hearing growling, roaring even. Then I spotted, from afar, a baby dinosaur. A moving, roaring dinosaur. I wandered over and hovered around for a while to watch the constant stream of astonished, terrified, amused reactions of the adults and children. There were a few scenes where wee toddlers actually got such a fright and started screaming, but this wee lad was pretty bold.

Back home and the rain of the morning has eased off. A perfect day for an afternoon at the movies. But that was before our big TV and Netflix. Why not settle down on the sofa, all manner of nibbles to hand, and make a good dent in the last couple of seasons of Breaking Bad...

Update on ‘the baby’ in the fridge... JR now thinks ‘the baby’ is upstairs. Well, I don’t think so, as it’s four students up there… The puzzle continues. Though I have yet to hear the strange noise, I am not saying JR is hearing things.

Not yet anyway.