Friday, 31 August 2007
Mostly it's a Frogtastic day.
I woke up this morning in a very silly mood. You know I was thinking I don't know why people take drugs, all they actually need to do is have a bit of my DNA and once they have done that they will see the world through my eyes, which believe me is looking rather frogtastic at the moment.
When I was in Scotland, a few weeks ago now, I was cycling through the village where my father was born and grew up, Pitcairn. I nearly fell off my bike when I heard this really peculiar noise coming from a nearby field, it was a bit like pigs squealing. I discovered to my surprise two of them, what I can only describe as 'creatures' rolling around in the grass, playing with each other. I thought, 'bloody hell, what are those little things?' I got off my bike and went over to take a closer look. Upon my initial inspection they looked a bit like squirrels. But, then I thought, 'hang on a minute, those things can't be squirrels, they don't have bushy tails for one, and they're darker than your average squirrels. And as for their bodies, well, they're longer .... Do you know what I don't what the fuck they are'. So, instead of carrying on with my bike ride and cycling all the way to Birnam, I went home and told my father about them.
He said shaking his head in disbelief, 'No Catriona, they were not deformed squirrels. What you obviously saw were weasels, playing with each other, rolling around in the grass'.
Frogtastic Revolution - Put down your guns, take off your bras, burn your underpants and join us all in the frogtastic revolution.
I used to be part of the frogtastic revolution, like all the other kids on my street. Well, I mean there was about three of us actually. Me, Lindsay G and my sister Isobel, and occasionally we persuaded Jill with the albino rabbit to get involved. We used go down to the fields, start by feeding the cows, then walk over a few more fields and then down past the observatory where there was a pond, this was our final destination. We all came equipped with long white buckets which my dad had retrieved from his factory. We put on our marigolds and the whole thing began. It was a sticky, messy business, but we were well prepared, we had our green horse riding boots on, I've forgotton what you call them.
Knee deep we waded through the water and got our prizes - frog spawn - heaps and heaps of the stuff. And we carried it home, mission accomplished, two buckets for each girl. The buckets would be kept behind the house and every morning progress was monitored. Then it happened, one evening we were all watching TV in the lounge and my mother started screaming, 'Peter! Peter! My God, what are all of those frogs doing in our garden?'. We loved it we ran outside and chased them all around the garden. With all of the commotion going on the neighbours came out, wondering why my mother was so hysterical, and wondering why our garden was awash with frogs. I shouted out to them 'Don't worry it's the frogtastic revolution!!'