Aye-aye – that’s yer lot – Jimmy Wheeler.
An eye for an eye – God.
A sight for sore eyes – Shakespeare.
Blue eyes – Elton John.
Two lovely black-eyes – a man talking instead of listening.
My eyes adored you – some american singer.
A very sore eye – me.
There I was – doing a bit of gardening when this six-foot six-inch Gurkha attacked me for no reason. Those who know me will tell you I’ve been pushing my luck for years and it had to happen one day. This pointy thing was at least fourteen-inches (1.5 metres) long and very sharp. I ended up hospitalised.
Oh-oh – wait a minute – my proof-reader has just glanced over my shoulder and I’ve made a slight mistake. It was a Yucca not a Gurkha. I thought a Yucca was one of them friends of Joanna Lumley.
Right then – on with the tale – I’ve been helping a friend tidy up their garden. The Gurkhas were the first thing that needed cutting down a peg or two. I slashed wildly with my machete and Gurkhas were floored everywhere. I put the bodies in the wheelbarrow and took them – I’m doing it again aren’t I?
These Yuccas then – my machete was actually a rather nifty little Black & Decker saw. What a great little tool. [Note to B & D for publicising your little saw I don’t mind a free gift – and I don’t mean a set of brushes for my drill]. The Yuccas were barrowed away to the nearest bit of waste land. Apparently if you dump bio-degradable stuff it’s not really dumping. I interrupted a self-employed builder who was dumping some bio-degradable rubble. We nodded knowingly at each other.
During my slashing I uncovered a Jacaranda tree (no – I haven’t a clue either). This poor little thing was about eight-feet high with a trunk as thick as my thumb. I felt sorry for this spindly specimen. It was growing about three strides from a bloody great big pine tree and was consequently still struggling for light and water.
Always being one to help the little guy, I thought I’d lop the nearest branch off the pine tree.
I obtained the set of steps from behind the shed and armed with my B & D machete made a plan. The branch was about twelve feet long (17 metres) so my decision was to lop off the little side-branches and then cut it about half-way along. The thickness at half-way was about the average man’s bicep. [Why do men with pipe-cleaner arms wear them I’m-hard-me vests? My mate Jeff went to the quiz in one once – he was rebuked most severely and hasn’t worn one since – they’ve all been sent to a charity shop.]
There I am doing a gentle back-and-forth movement with the machete allowing the electric motor to do all the work. As I approached the vinegar-strokes I was rather cautious. I carried on and instead of one of nice slow “TIMBER” motions, the fucking thing twisted violently and urgently and hit me on the knee, knocking me off the step-ladder. It was hilarious and even I had to laugh. I now had a sore eye and a poorly knee. Time to go home.
The knee was nothing but a small bruise but the eye became sorer and sorerer which resulted in a trip to the local Hospital. You know what A & E is like in the UK – we were in and out within the hour. A trip to the 24-hour Farmacia and we arrived home armed with drops and cream. There was a nasty moment in the Chemist when the bill looked like it was 146 Euros – it turned out to be 14.60. Phew.
I have to go now and lay down in a darkened-room – my eye hurts.