We have Stonehenge under construction at the bottom of our garden. It started life as a rockery with ferns and a spectacular tree fern in the middle. For years my husband spoke about expanding it. For years his pipe dream remained just that. But then we had a bad winter last year and the spectacular tree fern died.
The family mourned with my husband. We still hoped for a miracle and regularly checked the frondless trunk and prodded inside. We hoped to find hard buds waiting for spring so that they would erupt into life. Our joy was short lived because the small hard lumps turned soft and finally, after a few weeks, we had to accept that the beloved tree fern had not survived.
So my husband ordered a new one. When it arrived it was even more spectacular, significantly bigger and more robust. And there were a host of buds waiting to burst open as the warm weather replaced the freezing dark days of winter. The old tree fern was laid to rest at the bottom of the garden, behind the rhododendron hedge.
My husband is an engineer. For days he wandered around the rockery planning an expansion. A tape measure and iron poles were used to plot the extension. He still hadn’t given up on the original tree fern, not yet. He needed to get a place ready just in case we were all wrong and had misjudged the fortitude and determination of the one currently laid to rest behind the rhododendron hedge. The man who had delivered the new tree fern told us that they can lie dormant for months and then spring back to life.
So, to this end, ‘Stonehenge take two’ now stands proud and majestic at the bottom of our garden. A Herculaneum feat undertaken by one man to immortalise his pride and joy and, like Lazarus, hope tree fern number one will rise again from the dead.
There were, however, a number of difficulties delaying the start of the build. Vast amounts of soil, soil enhancer and compost were needed as the rockery was going to be significantly enlarged. These had to be found at the best price and with affordable delivery charges. Then my husband needed more stones or rather, boulders. These had to be seen and examined for size, colour and thickness. I went along to different reclamation centres and building sites to search for two rocks that would complete the construction. A sack barrow had arrived to move everything dumped on our driveway from the front of the house, down an incline, through a narrow gateway to the bottom of the garden. This would be no mean feat! I was convinced that there was absolutely no way my husband was going to manage on his own! He would have to wait for our son in law who was visiting in a few weeks.
There was also a slight problem for him but a significant one for me! Wasps had made a nest beneath one of the ferns. No one wants to be stung by a wasp. My husband, however, reacts very badly to wasp stings! When he was stung on the arm a few summers ago it blew up like a balloon! My concern is a sting around his throat or eyes. Piriton would not work quickly enough to stop major swelling. He was dicing with death not getting rid of the nest before starting on his mammoth project. But he had decided that, if they left him alone he would preserve the nest. Really? Apparently there were so few wasps about this year and they were good for the eco system.
I found this magnanimous decision illogical! How does one relay the message to wasps that you come in peace? You don’t sting me and I’ll not disturb your home! Well, for the first week I was impressed. This symbiotic relationship seemed to work! Alas, on Saturday afternoon, a rogue wasp hadn’t received the message and stung my husband on his hand. I saw him running down the lawn towards the house. I heard him turn on the outside tap and thought he must have hurt himself but hadn’t noticed any blood dripping from wounds. When he came into the kitchen and I saw his hand I knew what had happened.
It was huge. I have a few tablets in a bowl in the kitchen. I was convinced that I had piriton and, when I found the pack, popped out a tablet and gave it to him with a glass of water. He decided that he needed another one so obliged. He went outside and packed away his tools. He barbecued meat and we settled down for the evening. His hand was very red, very hot and very swollen. I remembered my daughter telling me that she had been rushed to hospital a few years ago because she had suddenly developed a serious rash after having paracetamol. She was given piriton intravenously and also loratadine. Apparently you can take these two together. I gave my husband another tablet. There was no improvement to his hand but it wasn’t getting worse. He googled wasp stings and used frozen sweetcorn as an ice pack as recommended.
The next morning his hand was no better. I went downstairs to get another piriton. I took the blister pack with me and a glass of water. My husband read the label.
‘This is a pack of Buscapan Cramps’ he laughed. I don’t have IBS!
I went downstairs after having a chuckle and looked for the piriton. There weren’t any! Yesterday I had inadvertently given him two Buscapan Cramp tablets! Is there any wonder they didn’t bring the swelling down? I felt awful. Luckily it wasn’t a life or death situation!
‘Maybe the time has come for you to read labels’, was my husband’s response when I told him! Between you and me I did find it quite amusing especially when he said that he’d not had any stomach cramps during the night! My daughter wasn’t amused. She told me to make a note that if it happens again Dad will need a piriton, a loratadine and an ibuprofen tablet and to ensure that I have these tablets in the house at all times!
Unfortunately my husband was no longer ‘Mr Nice Guy’! The wasps haven’t got a home beneath a fern in a rockery that has almost doubled in size. Despite my reservations my husband moved everything on his own! Stonehenge take two was single handedly built by an intrepid, determined engineer as proof that nothing was going to prevent him from completing the task! Despite being of a certain age, for him that meant nothing ! Call it foolhardy, dogged determination or just stubborn pride! Whatever moniker fits I’m impressed and so will the family be when they see it too! For him, age definitely is just a number!👠
Jenny Burrell 