An Industrious Day and a Bad Smell

My Blob who feeds me (and thanks a lot Denise for the dried food suggestion - not!) is currently curled up on the sofa nursing her wounds, smelling slightly of satsumas and wondering if she should retire to her bedroom before applying the deep heat.

She was up bright and early and left the house even before the other Blob had left for work. (Not bad for a day off). She was back two hours later laden with wood, fence paint and other assorted goodies for a planned day of hard work to prepare her garden for the summer.

The plan was as follows:

• Paint the fence and the shed with the new pumpy spray thing she acquired.
• Make a raised bed for the front garden.
• Clear the back garden ready for chamomile weeding.
• Dig up some roses in the front garden and repot the bamboo which shouldn't actually have been planted at all.
• Shift some of the white gravel, slice the barrier fabric and position the raised bed.
• Creosote said bed.

It started well to be honest, she sprayed the fence, the shed, the neighbours kitchen windows and nice white walls, the shed window, half the rosemary, some of the lavender, a few daffodils, quite a few nettles, the ground elder, the wheely bins, her face, her arms, her jeans, her jumper, a fair bit of concrete shed base, the logs stacked by the shed (no she didn't bother moving them - she was having far too much fun for that), the water butt, the compost bin, a fair bit of the clematis and a little bit of the vine. She did however completely miss the Bleeding Heart, which she was happy about because its coming into flower and the bees will have something to eat when they wake up.

Sadly, this is where it started to go wrong (so much for the grand plan).

Whilst spraying she noticed that a pack of 'Miracle Gro Compost Maker' which she had bought last year, started to use, but then sealed up and left on an outside shelf had become unsealed and filled with water, so it seemed like a logical move to empty the wet contents of said bag into the compost.

She opened the compost, picked up the bag and squeezed the contents out and then jumped about four foot from the bin saying 'Oh my god, oh my god (Retch Retch)! I can only assume that that was what the smell was called so for the purposes of the rest of this blog i shall refer to it as 'OMGOMG(RR)' It will be quicker that way.

Whilst squeezing the bag, the contents splashed on her hands, her face and her clothes so she spent an entertaining few minutes dancing around in the garden and the house gasping for breath and being unable to find any clean air because the smell of OMGOMG(RR) was all over her. (Made me laugh anyway!)

Her other worry at this point was that she could smell the compost heap from the patio doors at least she thought she could (remember, she was actually covered with the stuff). So she tried to use her initiative and picked up the bucket of ash which has been collecting all winter from the fire, and dumped on top of the compost and slammed the lid shut and ran away.

Now all this had kind of put her out of sorts and her grand plan was slipping away. However she decided against having a shower straight away and reckoned she could throw a raised bed together and get it creosoted before shower time, and she was getting used to the stench of OMGOMG(RR).

The raised bed making went surprisingly well, with only a couple of gashes in her hands from the screwdriver (who invented knots in wood for heavens sake). Unfortunately, when Blob realised that her thumb was pouring blood, she put it in her mouth (guess what was still all over her hands?). From the ensuing language it is my understanding that OMGOMG(RR) tastes about as good as it smells.

The raised bed is now in place in the Front Garden, dripping creosote onto the white gravel, but Blob reckons that this makes finishing off easier because the square is marked.

It was a particularly grubby Blob that had to strip in the hallway and trudge upstairs to a hot shower, followed by a hot bath. She needed the two because creosote doesnt come off with soap and water - it needs scrubbing with a scrubbing brush. And then Blob was still convinced she stank of creosote and OMGOMG(RR) so she got out the emergency body shop satsuma body butter.

Hence she is curled up on the sofa, tending her wounds, smelling slightly of satsumas and now more interested in Professor Brian Cox (who apparently rocks if Blob is to be believed) than a deep heat treatment in the privacy of her bedroom.

As for me, I am complaining bitterly about the dried food i received for supper (thanks Denise) and getting absolutely no attention whatsoever.

I was wondering if I could produce something that smells of OMGOMG(RR) but Blob assures me that there is nothing I could produce which would come close.

OMGOMG(RR)

Bob