Last weekend, a merest flash of sunlight through the murk caused my missus ,the lovely Lynne to race out of the house to do 'something 'with the garden. She wasn't open to my suggestion. "Look, lets get someone in to concrete over the whole lot." When she said she was going to do something 'with the garden', any hopes i had of her hacking through the 6feet growth of grass, at the front, or the 9feet of grass at the back, where soon dashed as i saw her rearranging bits of muck, on a muck n' stone lump we call 'the rockery'. So, as she no doubt knew, as women do, i would do something, much as i tried to fight it, i felt guilty and set to, cutting through the miniature Amazon rainforest, that constitutes our back garden.(Or as any good Scouser'll call it "Our Back Yard."Even if it's 14 acres of grassland.). As i forced my way throgh these lofty grasses, i kept thinking of the beginning of ,'PLANET OF THE APES'. When Charlton Heston n' his buddies and a whole heap of humans are hunted down by the apes through all the grasses, vines n' undergrowth. I stood there 'under' all this 'overgrowth trying to unravel the cable for the mower, wondering if there was any chance of an ape on a horse, armed with a rifle taking me away. But, it didn't happen, so, i had to hack through the back and the front. I was aching, sweating like a pig, as my dearly beloved was shaping the leaves on some cute little tree in a plant pot. "I love gardening", sez she. I replied ,but we've both forgotten my reply but i think i've been forgiven .
With our new bowling green flat 'Back Yard.' The sun was shining and i thought after my long lay-down, sorry, -off. Due to a 'gammy' leg, i would start doing some Karate training, but, outside in the garden. So, as i powered away, forging my body in the furnace of my will. Part of my mind was on technique and the mysteries of the east, and turning myself into a 'human fighting machine.' Whilst the other part of my mind was concenterating on where i put my feet. Not for stances, etc, but to avoid standing in dog shite.
I thought back to the classic telly series, 'KUNG FU'. And how the Shaolin monks trained David, Kwai Chan Cain, Carradine how to light and extinguish candles; Walk on wet bog paper,or, rice paper ; Fight blind ol' fellahs with sticks; Bounce spears off his wrists; Snatch pebbles from old monks hands, as well as humping around molten cauldrons(old way of tatooing). Well, Grasshopper managed all that and passed his Kung Fu O-levels and left the monastary. But if they'd given him the ultimate test. Walking over our garden without standing in dog muck, Caine'd still be there. But i managed it, so now i'm trying to work out how i can scratch an image of a tiger on one side of the kettle and a dragon on the other. Then lifting it with my forearms to brand them onto my arms, so i'll be the only Shaolin cartoonist in Warrington.