Go Darke

Light thinks it travels faster than anything but it is wrong. No matter how fast light travels, it finds the darkness has always got there first, and is waiting for it

Fundamental Joeyism

The beast of Bougain-ville

This monstrous Bougainvillaea stands in the place where progress needs to happen. I’m pretty sure I planted this not five years ago… its mushroomed into this ‘little-shop-of-horrors’ behemoth of a shrubbery. I’ve been putting off cutting it down… because… well… the thorns mostly. But also because I’m lazy (maybe I should use the polite form, and say I’ve been procrastinating). In any event, the time has come! Or rather came, since its pretty much done now.

I must be honest, most of the hard work was done by my gardener. My Zimbabwean-of-questionable-resident-status, who scaled the innards and attacked the beast from within. Every time I hooked and bloodied myself I’d moan and grouse about it to anyone within earshot. Not so my stoic botanical man-at-arms who seemed, if anything, quite enthusiastic about the whole endeavour.

The sap from a Bougainvillea’s leaves are not toxic, but a prick from the plant’s sharp thorns can lead to dermatitis, a skin rash typically caused by an allergic reaction.

Yeah, trust me I know all about it. My forearms looks like I’ve shared a sleeping bag with a feral alley cat.

I also, obviously, took the opportunity to enact some parenting and taught my girls some important life skills. Some might argue that 16 months is too young to wield a chainsaw. But I disagree. Raising your kids right has been ruined by hippy liberals and I aim to rectify this divergence (with blood). Afterwards I made them grapple for an hour and twenty minutes on the cold damp lawn.

I suppose I should mention this is where my new home office is going to go and that I am not just disrupting the foliage of my domicile willy-nilly. I need a new and improved man cave, separated from the violent (and unruly) pygmies from which to wage… eh… financial… stuff from. And also play games (and build my lego). I tire of the scowls from my wife and the constant admonishment (when she brings me my tea), ‘Are you playing games again?’

(sometimes I can’t alt-tab quickly enough)

All men need a sanctum. From within its confines, they can reflect on the life decisions they have made that have brought them to the point of needing a sanctum. Its quite circular that way.

In any event, I could have summarized this side-quest with ‘Cut down a Bougainvillaea, it pricked me and it hurt’. But I felt this particular encounter needed more ‘meat’.

Also I don’t really make my kids wrestle for an hour and twenty. It’s more like forty minutes, tops.

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