What’s good for the goose

Tuesday evening was a nice affair. The family came up for a few drinkies, both my sisters came to visit but the brothers cried off – well, one cried off, one wasn’t invited but that’s a whole different story.

The track down to our house had got the better of the family’s various cars. It had started to rain and the ice was had become as slippery as as a bobsleigh run. That of course meant that  people had to be ferried in the 4 x 4 up and down the track to the road which ended up looking a bit like a car park as we were clearly not the only people needing to park on the road in order to make any kind of getaway.

Slipping ( no pun intended) on Boofuls’ big coat and not bothering to change my footwear I made my first trip. I had to stop at the top of our track because just round the bend was a car coming up the slope.

As is customary where we live, I reversed out the way so they’d have a clear run at it. The car tried and failed to get up the slope, it slid backwards, moved forwards, slid backwards a bit more that sat at the bottom of the slope, totally blocking my exit. Isn’t it funny how a tiny slope which you hardly even notice normally becomes like mount Everest when it’s got ice on it? The driver was clearly perplexed.

I sat for a minute or two, painfully aware that The Rev and the kids were waiting for me in their car on the road.

Still the car sat.

I’ll encourage them out of the way, I thought. They can’t get up so they’ll have to go back, they can’t just sit there, they can see I’m waiting.

Inching my way down the hill eventually I was in front of the other car which still showed no signs of wanting to move in any direction. Irritated now, I chatted for a minute with a couple of the local residents who had come out to watch the show, enjoying every moment of it.  Mocking non residents who struggle with the terrain is considered sport round these parts.That was the most entertainment they’d had all Christmas, given another couple of minutes they’d have been bringing out chairs and selling tickets, we don’t get out much up here, see.

Sighing, I got out of the car and trudged through the slushy ice to the other car, already having a pretty good idea about who it was that was causing uproar in our normally tranquil neighbourhood.  I was right.

“Hhhmmmmph, thought it was you.” I announced grumpily to my sister. ” as the snow seeped through my slippers.

” I can’t get it up!”

Keeping a straight face, I let that one pass without comment. No mean feat, I can tell you.

“Well stop trying and park out the way or follow me back out and I’ll bring you in.”

The end result was that I crammed people  into my car like sardines. The Rev, Gembolina and the clingons as well as Little Sis and her partner.  people were having to sit on the knees of people they hadn’t even been introduced to. There’s nothing else for it – they’ll have to get married now.

With the car all crammed with people as it was it’s a good job we were on private land, If the police had seen a car loaded up like that we’d have ended up on a ‘Stop! Police! programme, shamed forever!

Now, you’ve heard of the Ghost Whisperer, right?  It’s that programme with Jennifer Love Hewitt, or as Big N prefers to call her, Jennifer Love Hugetits.

Well now she has a rival, it’s me: The Goose Whisperer.

Once we had everyone safely back at our house, drinks in hand and all comfortable and warm I was busying myself in the kitchen preparing mountains of food when I heard a shout:

“There’s a goose at the window!”

‘There’s a goose at the window? They must be playing charades or  Name That Tune’ though I must confess it isn’t a song title I know. You hum it and I’ll join in.

No!  Really!  There IS a goose at the window. And bugger me, there was!

Lost Goose

Terrible photo, I know. It was foggy and the flash bounced off the fog and the goose tried to run away, the sod just wouldn’t pose!

The poor creature was in a terrible state, clearly close to death, slipping and sliding everywhere, falling over, cold, wet and very unhappy. Big N went to turn the oven on (ever the chef!)  I went out to catch it while Boofuls phoned the neighbours to ask who’d lost a goose. Not the kind of question you ever think you’ll find yourself asking but it just goes to show – you never know.

No! Course I didn’t go out to catch it so we could stuff it in the oven, it’s somebody’s pet!  Puh-lease!!!

It didn’t put up much of a fight. I thought it would be flapping and biting so I took a bath towel out with me to throw over it but to be honest the poor thing was so weak that all I had to do was bend down and pick it up as it fell over when I approached it. One of the neighbours came trudging down the hill to reclaim his goose. They’d been out looking for it all evening. He practically kissed it when he took it from me. They really do love their animals round here (there are all sorts of jokes that could spring from that last comment but I’m going to be a grown up and resist them all).

So, all’s well that ends well in the goose department, the latest info is that goosie is recovering nicely.

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