My latest Big Mistake is standing, six foot tall, in the hall where it taunts me with its presence every time I trot from living room to kitchen and have to pass its looming form.
When I say it is my “latest” Big Mistake, I am confessing to any number of what Mr B, were they down to him, would term “minor errors”. Because no blame can be laid at his door,
my errors are categorised on a sliding scale from Minor Mishap to Major Catastrophe.
I shouldn't have transplanted the tomato plants from the veggie trough
to the three tomato grow bags. They would have fared better if left where they were. On the other hand, the runner bean plants really needed to be transplanted from said trough and properly trained up a cleverly constructed edifice to be The Best A Bean Can
Be. The Darling Daughter in Law did warn me I might be mistaken and so it has proved to be.
Up until this moment I have not confessed to anybody that when I purchased
the grow bags from the hardware shop down The Strand, I thought I was buying grow bags for beans rather than for tomatoes. However, it hasn’t been so very terrible. The tomatoes may be sprawling untidily out of their grow bags all over the patio, but
I'm still able to pick a few blushing specimens to ripen off on the windowsill each day. The runner beans have grown into a veritable jungle in the vegetable trough but I've harvested enough for dinner each day. Okay, it's unorthodox to say the least - but
it's not an Unmitigated Disaster.
Back to the Big Mistake in the hall. To be clear, it isn't a calamity on a global scale. The environment will not be harmed.
There will be no impact on the planet, certainly not on the Universe. When I describe my mistake as “big” I am talking size, not cause and effect. I hope this has afforded you some comfort?
The Big Mistake, as I explained above, is six foot tall and mighty weighty. There is no way I am going to be able to move it from its position against the radiator where it was helpfully placed by the Delivery Man. Unless
I can invite Mr Strong, of the Mister Men books, into my house it may well stay there forever in all its glory.
Let me explain. Regular readers will remember how
I befriended Tom, from The Ramp People, who supplied me with what's called a threshold ramp and a four foot long ramp to enable me to transport Mr B, in his wheelchair, out of the front door. So pleased am I with the freedom this has offered us that I turned
my attention to sourcing a similar solution for the patio doors so that I could wheel Mr B out into the back garden. The only disadvantage to this course of action I could foresee was that he would be able to witness for himself the sprawling tomatoes and
tangled beans on both of which he would have Much To Say.
When My Boy was here last week, we tried out the four foot ramp on the patio doors which resulted in
Mr B being catapulted at great speed down the steep ramp. He didn’t quite end up in the rose garden but it was a close thing. It proved the point made by My Friend Tom that a six foot ramp would be needed to provide the appropriately gentle incline for
easy passage in and out of the house. Quod Erat Demonstrandum as we used to say in our Geometry lessons all those many years ago.
So I ordered the six foot ramp
in a fit of sunny confidence and it arrived forthwith. I had no idea it would be so, well, big and so very, very heavy.
I am sure that one day, when (failing
Mr Strong who is cube shaped and bright red in colour) My Boy or a Son in Law comes to visit, we will be able to try out the Very Long Ramp. We will be able to transfer it into the garage where it will remain until another Strong Person arrives to set
it up and take it down for me. It will probably prove its worth one day. Fingers crossed.
For now, it stands in the hall, resting against the radiator, majestically
My latest Big Mistake.