Just idly looking out of the window as one does on wet mornings in Norn Iron I was rewarded by the sight of a sweet and gentle elderly lady being lead up the lane by her wee dog on a very long lead. She, having halted the cortege busied herself with the good citizen's task of clearing up the considerable mess around our neighbour's skip full of garden rubbish and sundry objects apparently surplus to requirements resulting from a project to turn her garden into a large area of decking. The wee dog helped by sniffing around,nosing said articles and occasionally lifting a delicate leg to add to the moisture flowing down the lane.
Task completed she headed homewards up the lane. Dog to the fore. Then stopped to contemplate an object she had missed: a large plastic pot. Tastefully pink. Stooping down holding the dog lead in her right hand she used her left to flick the pot up and away-into the neighbours garden from whence it had come-a good 15 feet vertical and about twenty horizontal.A new Olympic sport was born: flicking the garbage from full stoop.Remember; you read about it here first.
Rubbing her hand clean the pair changed direction and headed down the lane. The wee dog obliged with a celebratory crap which duly was bagged. And where did the bag go?
Sorry I missed it.
But I'll check the skip.
In case she didn't
When the rain has stopped
Labels: Newcastle, Norn Iron, Pink Pot Flicking