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The Bergenia Blether
by Patrick
Vickery
A number of years ago now - as a child - I
remember moving into a new house and with it acquiring a considerable
garden that over-looked the river.
One side of this garden was bounded by leylandii hedging that separated us
from our neighbour, an eccentric naval officer (retired) called Mr.
Leggett, a man passionate about drinking, playing bridge and tending to
his lawn - a lawn, incidentally, that he kept well groomed and immaculate
for he spent
long hours digging clover and daisies from it with a knife and fork. But
he had another passion as well, a passion manifested during night-time
hours and one which gave rise to some concern in our household: a passion
for shooting rabbits. Nothing disturbing about that of course, no,
not unless you're a rabbit, only this was conducted by searchlight
(ex-Navy surplus, I suspect, or possibly 'requisitioned' from a Gun Boat
or a Destroyer) and swivel mounted to the ledge outside his bedroom
window.
And so, with an air rifle attached to his upper body, and clad only in
pyjamas, he took well-illuminated pot shots at startled rabbits on the
lawn. His aim was invariably inaccurate, I recall, complimented no doubt
by numerous gin and tonics, and as a consequence many pellets passed
straight through the hedge and into our greenhouse. Some of these rogue
pellets even had the audacity to pass through both walls of the greenhouse
and mutilate a giant Bergenia Cordifolia ('Elephant's Ears') on the other
side. Strangely enough, though, the pellets didn't break the glass
at all, no, not a single pane, but bored perfect holes straight through
them. As you might imagine my father was not amused by this
situation, no, in fact he was furious.
In this day and age, of course, the spectre of 'Garden Rage' might
manifest itself in an ugly scene over the garden fence after such
unneighbourly conduct, perhaps even a slap on the head with a mutilated
Bergenia, but this was in more tolerant times: times when public rage was
something akin to an
admission of mental incapacity and a diplomatic word or two over the
garden fence was more readily employed to resolve such matters.
Mind you, I never did discover what was said all those years ago over the
garden fence, but night-time warfare against rabbits ceased and the
greenhouse acquired new glass, so whatever it was, it must have been
effective.
(Copy right 2003 Patrick Vickery)
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