Church of England Diocese of Manchester St. Ann, Belfield

Winston's blog

25 Jul 2020, 11 a.m.
Community_news

               Winston

Grass! If there is any one word that encompasses the tortured mentality of the human psyche, it is the word grass. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you? It’s green, has been around since Adam was in short pants, and you eat it when you are feeling pukey to bring up whatever it was you swallowed that you shouldn’t have swallowed in the first place. That’s the stuff. Grass.

I was sitting on the doorstep the other day, waiting for my third breakfast, when she arrived. ’About time’ I thought, licking my lips in anticipation. But did she let me into the house and feed me? No, she did not. Instead she made a beeline for something that had caught her eye. Sticking up from between the block paving were two tiny slivers of grass. Barely enough to cure a worm’s belly ache. But like an eagle she swooped down, gripped the offending plant between finger and thumb and pulled it kicking and screaming, from the sand.

Now come on! This is grass, right? Wherever there is open ground, gaps between stones or cracks in the concrete, grass will appear. It was doing this when people were swinging from trees, and will no doubt still be doing it when there is no one left to play the last post. So, you would think by now they would have learned to live with it, right? Wrong. Because whenever grass tries to raise its head, be it on someone’s garden path or vegetable plot etc. they rip it out, or dose it with poison, as if it could not possibly be allowed to exist in the same universe as them.

And yet – and this is the crazy bit – these same people lay down huge swathes of the stuff, all around their houses. Then they meticulously cut it to shape. Encourage it to grow, using all manner of dressings, fertilisers, and other magic potions. And then, and I kid you not, when the poor grass has dutifully ingested all this chemic and grown as high as a kite (which it would, wouldn’t it?) they attack it with their noisy machines, and cut it back down again.

Where is the logic in this? I mean, if I had a garden (which I don’t, because the concept is totally alien to me) but if I did have one, and objected to the said garden being covered in tall grass, why would I be stupid enough to plant the stuff there in the first place? Why not just cover the ground with green paint? They are keen enough to cover everything else with paint.

Honestly, I despair.

Speak soon kittens.

They gave me some of their fish the other day. I ignored it. If they think I’m going to eat their leftovers, they can think again. Do I expect them to eat mine?