Who’s Bev? You’ve got me worried.
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Have I ever told you about the ducks and the York University porter?
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You haven’t told me.
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The trouble is that I cannot remember the name of the college after more than fifty years. Possibly Langwith. Anyway, it was the one which had (maybe still has) windows which open above what was in those days the largest plastic-bottomed lake in Europe. For all I know it may still have that accolade, though, when we accidentally blew up the dam at the bottom end, it became no lake at all for a while… But that is not the story I came here to tell you this evening.
It is also necessary to know that one of the porters who curated this college was afraid of ducks.
The university, in its wisdom, had caused there to be many ducks on the lake. They mostly came in gangs: Mallards here, Tufted Ducks there, a little haggle of Shovellers off to the edge, groups of Pochards making trouble in their own way… and one solitary Pekin duck, who did a lot of shouting and, as it turned out, was a Maoist agitator. You see, the university had also caused to be built on one of the islands in the lake a number of what they fondly imagined to be duck houses, but which, since they were fixed to the trunks of some trees, were clearly of no use to a duck, and actually intended for elitist sparrows (take a bow, Bird). Who duly occupied them.
The scene is set.
Students coming back to their college after lectures one fateful afternoon found a porter cowering behind his desk and gibbering incomprehensibly, but gathered from his frantic gestures that there was something amiss in the JCR, which opened off the entrance and had a lovely set of panoramic windows over the lake.
With trepidation or vainglory, according to the temperament of each, they approached the door and flung it wide, to find (O the horror!) that the JCR was full of ducks. The Maoist had waited his opportunity, and when only the duck-phobic porter was on duty had led a determined band of marauding ducks in through the main door, which was open because it was a hot summer afternoon, and into the JCR, which was at that point unlocked, in order to occupy it and protest against the sparrows’ occupation of the duck houses – which in retrospect seems to me to have been only fair, but I digress.
In spite of his terror the porter had scuttled out from behind his desk and shut the door on them, and there was then an impasse. They couldn’t get out, and he didn’t dare to go in and try to evict them. So he waited for rescue, and the ducks proceeded to do what ducks do, both on the floor and on some of the chairs in the JCR. Also behind the bar, and on the pinball machine, which had been landed on by some duck who was then terrified by its own temerity…
Clearly this had to stop, and the students were just the men, and women, to stop it. Admittedly, they were amateurs in the matter of duck-herding, but what they lacked in skill they easily made up for in enthusiasm and volume. One genius, possibly the local anarchist Keith Nathan, had the brainwave of opening all the windows and simply throwing the ducks into the lake rather than trying to usher them through two doorways and past the panic-stricken porter, and after that things went rather better for the students, and possibly also for the ducks, who were not consulted in the matter. The room was cleared of avian life in under an hour, but their calling-cards remained, and a professional company had to be hired to clean the carpet and the upholstery.
I don’t think this story really has a moral. The students’ relations with the ducks were unimpaired; if anything I suspect they were improved. What the ducks thought about it all is not recorded.
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I wish I had been there! A brilliant story.
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Tell me you’re not a duck without, etc…
Also, W.C.Fields, driving golfballs at waterfowl: ‘If you can’t shit green, get off my lawn.’ Mind you, a lot of them mostly do.
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Been on a day out which included a trip to the minor injuries unit. to free my ear from hair that had wound itself through the pierced hole through the night and matted round my earlobe
Then to collect my earrings from the jeweller who had fixed them then to get my sunspex from the optician and thence to the supermarket to buy a no prep decent dinner
I rather like Dunnes for a change
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Not an option for us in England as far as I know, but I am glad you have somewhere you enjoy going.
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Think of Dunnes as a M&S with Irish dietary guidelines of M&S supermarket using higher end ingredients eg free range chicken and line caught wild salmon or awhatever is available on the day that was mswimming less than 24 hours ago and good Angus beef that serves a very mixed population of mixed African Indian and Arabic origin who bring such vitality and delight in their cuisine becoming mainstream
I love poking around the ready mixed spices and trying to make the mix using up my spices at home
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Jost Joey is lovely
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It’s beautiful, Soo
Pleased that it survived the move(s).
I have Rescue Paeonies in the house ATM.
Carinthia. xx
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I have been playing the Most Complicated Game I Have Ever Played.
It was great fun but I need to turn off my brain forran bit now.
Ooh, hello gin.
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I’m relieved to read that. Gin, Dear.
Soo xx
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Mushroom soup is available, if anyone would like some.
Carinthia. xx
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ooooooooh…
I know your mushroom soup. Yes please.
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Please, Dahlink.
Gxx
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