Gusty Blusts

and other stories The Weird and Wonderful World of "J"

Archive for the 'World Outside the Window' Category

Approx 290 words | Read time approx 1 - 2 mins

Old farmers and fire starters


Black bin bags and a strange old man brandishing a petrol lighter . . . just some of the bizarre things found in the garden . . .

IT’S NOT every day you draw back the curtains to discover a strange old farmer trying to set fire to a pile of rubbish in your back garden is it? Well, thankfully not at least anyway.

Just because your garden might well have resembled a post apocalyptic aftermath is beside the point – you still really don’t expect this kind of thing.

So there he was, this strange, manic old farmer sporting a flat cap, grubby tweeds and wellybobs, emptying out two big black bin bags of household waste into the garden. Before producing a lighter and then setting fire to it. Or at least trying anyway, since half-empty tin cans, mouldy, half eaten slices of bread, egg shells, rotting vegetables and the like aren’t exactly reknown for their flammable properties.

Whereas the stuff that was of a flammable nature like newspapers, empty cereal boxes, yoghurt pots and cartons were busily being scooped up by the wind and distributed around the neighbourhood as part of a major countryside littering campaign.

As for why he was trying to torch the trash I’m not entirely sure, but even the not-so-subtle ‘what the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at you silly old pillock!’ from the other half, who was never one to mince words, unfortunately seemed to fall on deaf ears.

What a mess. Let’s just say he cleared up what little had neither burnt nor blown away, but as to why he’d chosen our garden since it wasn’t exactly near anyway, I’d absolutely no idea.

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Approx 241 words | Read time approx 1 - 2 mins

Funny fowl


When the outside world decides to check out life on the inside – animal related reasons for not opening your windows . . .

AS IF THINGS in the world outside the window aren’t quite mad enough, at least they’re on the outside, well, that’s the general theory anyway.

There are reasons, or so I’ve discovered, why you really shouldn’t open your windows if you live on a farmstead. The noise of course being one of them. After all a closed window can make the difference between a reasonably acceptable, but nevertheless, cringe inducing cock-a-doodle-oooohing as opposed to the ear-splitting, cacophony of COCK-A-DOODLE-ARGHHHHHHING! when the windows happen to be open.

But then it doesn’t exactly help that neither of the five and a half cockerels in question have actually grasped the concept of ‘pitch, tone or timbre’ let alone the ‘try it once and then give up’ approach.

Animal noises outside the window are one thing, but indoors, it’s an entirely different story as I discovered when a ‘cock-a-doodle-ha-haaaaa!’ suddenly bellowed through the open downstairs window behind me, and into the quiet of the room. And it was with a mixture of amusement and horror that I turned around to discover a large cockerel head, complete with flappy, wobbly bits attached, somewhat unsurprisingly to an even larger cockerel body, and swaying from side to side amidst the vertical blinds . . .

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Approx 161 words | Read time approx 1 - 2 mins

Floating legs

Dangling legs

Floating legs and confused birds – the things you see outside the window . . .

IT’S NOT everyday you glance outside and witness a pair of legs float past your upstairs window is it? Legs that appeared to be surreally suspended, sans body and thereby giving rise to the suspicion you’ve overdone the E numbers again.

Initial shock aside, it turned out the legs in question were in fact attached to the body of a micro light pilot, but then that wasn’t immediately obvious at the time . . .

Meanwhile, on the otherside of the house, and for reasons that no doubt made sense to it at the time, a bright yellow budgie decided to fly, head first into the kitchen window. Understandably it met with a certain amount of resistance, as it hit the glass with a resounding thud, and bounced back with a decidedly dazed expression . . .

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Approx 254 words | Read time approx 1 - 2 mins

Traffic light trauma

Traffic lights

Temporary traffic signals cause body trauma . . . by proxy . . .

IT’S NOT EVERYDAY you glance out of the window and witness a pair of traffic lights jiggling along merrily up the road is it? Although I suspect, that will largely depend on your personal intake of artificial stimulants. The fact that I wasn’t actually under the influence of any such stimulants made it all the more disturbing.

These particular traffic lights may very well have been on the back of a workman’s truck that was travelling up the lane as opposed to being independently mobile and taking a leisurely stroll in the country, but it wasn’t immediately obvious from my viewing angle.

And being the sensible, realist that I’m clearly not, I laughed out loud, turned around a tad too quickly and cracked my fingers hard against the side of the door frame instead.

The fact that said fingers went bright red, swelled up to the size of two large sausages and hurt like hell suggested that medical intervention was going to be required.

And after whiling away way too many hours down at the local A&E and being subjected to an awful lot of sniggering as I was repeatedly asked to explain my traffic light trauma, I was dispatched with two bandaged, but thankfully not broken fingers.

If nothing else I suppose it’ll teach me not to laugh at mobile moving traffic lights no matter how ridiculous they might be.

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Approx 227 words | Read time approx 1 - 2 mins

Wobbling wendy house

A strange man wheels a trampolining Wendy House along the side of the road . . . in a gale . . .

GLANCING OUT of the window my attention was drawn to a strange man wheeling what can only be described as a wobbling roofless Wendy House on a wooden board, along the side of the road. In a gale.

I’m assuming the board was fixed to a pair of castors or something along those lines. Although it could have been balanced on top of a large rubber ball for all I knew. The whole thing was that absurd.

Especially since due to the combined effects of wind and undulating board momentum the Wendy House was bouncing up and down like a small excited child on a trampoline.

An effect made all the more surreal when the fella and his board disappeared behind a wall and only the Wendy House performing an assortment of airborne athletics could be seen as it travelled along up the road.

Quite where the guy had come from, where he was going or why he’d chosen to transport an item in this manner was well beyond the scope of my imagination. Although the battered remains of a broken Wendy House were found a couple of days later in a nearby field . . .

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Approx 465 words | Read time approx 2 - 4 mins

Snuffling in the undergrowth

Bottom thrust skyward

A strange old man turns up in the garden and without so much as a word starts to wage war on the weeds . . .

WHILE SAT READING in silence, my concentration was unexpectedly interrupted by a snuffling sound coming from outside the open window.

Living on a farmstead you kind of get used to an assortment of animals showing up in your garden and well, snuffling around in your undergrowth so, I really wasn’t all that concerned.

Although quite why they preferred a work-in-progress weed strewn wasteland to that of their green open pastures I’d no idea, but then the beasties really are rather large and, as I’ve discovered, tend not to take a blind bit of notice.

The snuffling continued, only now it was also interspersed with a curious metallic scraping sound, the occasional grunt and the unfortunately all-too-frequent raucous release of intestinal gas.

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Approx 456 words | Read time approx 2 - 4 mins

Bizarre rituals in rural places

patting wall top

What is it about elderly men and the need to wave their walking sticks? And why oh why do people feel the need to pat walls?

A CASUAL GLANCE out of the kitchen window had caught sight of an elderly man ambling along the top road, walking stick clenched firmly in one hand, his other hand somewhat bizarrely alternating between blowing his nose into a large spotted handkerchief and the randomly patting of wall tops.

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