Have You Weed Your Bed?

Have You Weed Your Bed?

In about 1986 I was strolling back to the office, from watching a ladies football match as it ‘appens, when I came upon what I believe was my first four-leaf clover find. Yippee! How lucky was I? I was over the moon because whenever walking through clover my eyes would be down, seeking that exclusive elusive but without success. And I haven’t found one since. Yesterday was a prime example. I’d gone to our local heath, forever rampant with clover, with Bo the Dog and My Husband for the first time in ages and after 40 minutes of eye-ache and heartache I, yet again, gave up the search. Why am I so unlucky, I don’t understand? Could it be because I don’t have that exclusive elusive? Hahaha.

I thought I was so lucky to have found that one and only exclusive elusive that when a colleague asked if she could have it I gave it to her willingly. Sharing the luck you see. Hmmmm, I must have been soft as she was probably the most unlikeable woman in the office. In fact, she was pretty horrible to most about most and had absolutely screamed with laughter when she heard what my younger brother’s name was. How rude. And guess what? Her toes pointed in the wrong direction as did her nose, so yah boo to her.

I’ve just found out you can buy a four-leaf clover off Ebay!!!!! Check this out if you don’t believe me: http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/4-FOUR-LEAF-CLOVER-GENUINE-REAL-GOOD-LUCK-CHARM-WEDDING-FAVOUR-GOOD-LUCK-SPELL-/200964099728?pt=UK_Home_Garden_Celebrations_Occasions_ET&hash=item2eca64ce90

Not only can you buy a four-leaf but also a five and six-leaf. Would you pay for one? Yeh, it may save all that searching but it can’t be right, can it? And how come this ebayer has a never-ending supply of ‘wild’ ones when I’ve only found one in 25yrs? Don’t believe it. Bah bloody bah!

Weird how all these old wives tales survive, hah, or perhaps not, if like me you’re an old wife. Take the dandelion. I grew up thinking if you picked a dandelion you wet the bed. Now where did that come from? I don’t remember ever wetting the bed, but there again would I have dared to pick dandelions if I thought they’d make me wet the bed? I’ve just thought of that old children’s programme Bill and Ben and their girlfriend Little Weed who was a dandelion, ‘Little Weed, Little Weed’ she’d squeak. There’s got to be something in that. And don’t get me started on carrots! That’s one old wives tale I can quickly debunk. Listen, you do not go blind if you don’t eat them when you’re little and they do not help you see in the dark! Buy a torch. I know of another tale about going blind but that’s for the boys room and for the boys to debunk ;) .

There’s a scary plant of which I can’t remember the correct name. It’s tall, covered in tiny creamy white flowers and grows along the hedgerows and canal banks in abundance. There are two that look alike but the one I’m thinking of STINKS! I’ve always called it Mother’s Die and yes, if you picked any your mother would die! How bad is that?  And thinking about it, who told me? Anyway, of course that attracted me and my friends even more, after all it was dangerous and didn’t we live for danger? That must be fairly obvious by my hunts for a four-leaf clover. Anyway he who dares, nothing gained nothing lost and all that, so once, and only once did I dare to pick a stem, immediately feeling an urgent need to run home and check My Mother was still there to cook and serve. Of course she was. Phew, what a relief. But what sort of child was I? Bad girl.

And whatever happened to lawns covered in tiny daisies? We’ve let the top end of ours grow wild and at the beginning of June it looked glorious with campion, bluebells (of the Spanish variety with apologies to gardeners out there), grape hyacinth, buttercups and pretty grasses. See, I can talk proper stuff J. But there are never, ever any daisies to be seen, even transplanting a few from other lawns hasn’t worked (likewise with cowslip). When I do see any I can’t help bursting into that fabulous Doris Day song we all know and love, ‘Please, please, don’t eat the daisies, don’t eat the daisies, please, please’ which, they being the only words I know, could possibly sound a trifle tedious to those unfortunates who maybe within earshot. I lurrve DD but I have to point out she’s a helluva lot older (by quite a few decades, I would say) than me……………………. others would add she can sing a helluva lot better. Debateable methinks, though My Mother used to tell me to stop laughing. Why? Because I didn’t laugh like a lady, I cackled. Like a hen. 

Oh the memories. When No1 Son and Daughter were little we used to sit on The Gran's front lawn making necklaces and bracelets and tiaras out of daisy chains. Hahaha, for both of them and they both loved it. Didn’t they both  ;)  look pretty little garden fairies? Sarnies, squash, sun and daisies………. and my singing, what more could a child want? Never see that happening nowadays, maybe it’s because the sun always shone then. Oh the memories.

So, between wetting the bed and ma kicking the bucket the choice is yours. Take your pick!

I dare you.

FYI: Little brother's name is