I Found a Ferret!

Some of you know the tale, some of you don’t. Either way get yourselves comfy as I relive that fateful evening with you.

It was a Monday night, I’d gone to the pub late and had two pints, standard. It was around half ten as I left for the very short walk back to the house. I was just out of the pub car park when I spotted something white scratching around underneath a privet hedge that runs along one side of the pavement, a ferret! I knew straight away that it must belong to someone and also that I couldn’t just leave it wandering around outside so I picked it up. Now it/he was a bit wriggly but all good, though I did have to pass an old boy on a late night dog walk. Have you tried acting casual as you stroll down the street with a ferret tucked under your arm? Luckily man and dog were on the other side of the road and I avoided having to explain my unusual situation.

Once home I set him down in the kitchen where he couldn’t get on/behind furniture or make a mess on the carpet etc. Plus he was a bit smelly so I was happy for him to stay on the tiled floor. Anyway I know I’ve got a house guest for the night until the nearest vets opens in the a.m. so I google a bit about what ferrets eat but mainly I’m taking pics and pissing about on facebook. It’s all a bit of a laugh. I get a big box from the garage and plonk him in it with and old blanket, some scrambled egg and water, he’s set, I’m off to bed.

Well when I came downstairs in the morning to check on my new mate he was happily tucked up in his box, though he hadn’t stayed in there all night. I hadn’t considered that to get out he just needed to enlarge one of the hand holds and out he’d pop. Still, no harm done, just a couple of ‘presents’ on the floor. I called the vets to explain what’s what and the receptionist said ‘Yeah that’s fine just bring it along and we’ll take it from there’. Great, the vets is less than a mile away, a mere two minute drive, he’ll soon be in better hands and I’ll have done my good deed.

So I would have just popped him in the car but because he was a bit stinky I didn’t want him on the seats, even for a brief while, so I had the bright idea to pop him in another box. And this is where things went horribly, horribly wrong. You’d think I’d have learnt that a box was no match for Lightning/Tom Skerrit (the two names I’d been toying with for him) and to be fair, this box had seen better days, the cardboard wasn’t the sturdiest. Not halfway up the road Tom Skerrit pulled the ‘closed’ top of the box in and started sticking his head out with a view to escaping. As he was on the seat next to me and in attempt to keep him there I started patting/pushing him back into the box, I guess his patience ran out. Bang. He full on sank his teeth into the flesh of my left hand between little finger and wrist. A lot of you wont know this, indeed I’d never given it much thought, ferrets can bite, hard!

I don’t think I screamed, but I was overcome by that hot flush/panicky feeling, and remember, I’m still driving! The little prick started tugging backwards on my hand like a dog with a pull toy. I realised that to stop this I had to lift my hand up high enough to stop his back legs having  purchase on anything. So that was me for the last part of the drive, steering and changing gear with my right hand because my left one had a furious ferret dangling from it, hoping he’d let go, which he didn’t.

Well I managed to park up at the vets and now things started getting interesting. I was going to just walk in with him still hanging there but the vets car park is next to a set of busy traffic lights, and at these lights was a bus. I could not face getting out of the car in front of a bus full of people with a ferret swinging freely from my hand. He’s got to come off. I grabbed hold of his head with my right hand and tried to prise his jaws open, nothing doing, they wouldn’t budge. I started thinking if I try any harder I’ gonna rip the little sod’s head off. I thought I’d end up walking into the vets saying ‘Hey I called about that ferret I found, well guess what, I’ve just murdered it!’ But just then a result, he finally relaxed his grip and I swiftly pulled my hand away, just in time for his teeth to now sink into the index and middle fingers of my right hand! This hurt more, teeth were now going through to the bone and piercing fingernails. I’m getting a bit fed up with this, I feel a bit like having a cry to be honest. Luckily Tom didn’t have such a good grip this time so now with my bloodied left hand I managed to finally escape his toothy grasp sustaining only one more minor bite.

And that’s how I walked into the vets, bleeding and clutching a fucked off ferret. The receptionist smiled as I approached the desk and I said ‘I think we just spoke, I’ve found a ferret?’ ‘Oh yes’ she replied but before she went any further I stated ‘Yeah well things went a bit wrong on the journey here’ and presented her with my bleeding hands holding a bloodied ferret. Well at least she didn’t make me take a seat, we went straight into a consulting room where I was able to put Tom Skerrit (Danger Ferret) into a proper crate and then got patched up by the receptionist. From there it was to the minor injuries unit at the local hospital to get cleaned up properly and put on a course of antibiotics for a week.

As for Tom, he was reunited with his owner Amy who was able to get in touch as the receptionist at the vets had took my number. She was very grateful and apologetic, and informed me his actual name was Flash. Now I’m not saying I wouldn’t do the same thing again but fuck me, I’ll get hold of a proper carry crate next time!

Greg.

The Coffee Break Conundrum: a problem, a solution and a resolution.

Why do the simplest of things get so fucking complicated?

So what happened was this. I’m driving on the M40 and I’m tired, no hang on, I’m exhausted. In the last twenty four hours I had had the most hectic and stressful day in New York City (the reasons for which I won’t bore you with here). And a surreal night flight back to Heathrow caused by a group of orthodox Jews who have some strange ideas about acceptable behaviour on a plane, and the fella next to me who never uttered a word but stared a lot, mainly I’m glad to say at the religious nuts. I got the distinct feeling he had hatred in his heart and was plotting an act of untold violence. Again, unacceptable behaviour on an aeroplane. Needless to say I did not sleep easy, in fact I did not sleep at all. Leading us to my current situation, fighting to keep my eyelids open and failing twice (thank fuck for rumble strips!). I needed caffine and quick!

A sign for Warwick Welcome Break services loomed large and off the motorway I pulled. Parked up, went in, and ordered a coffee. To be specific I ordered a (Welcome Break) double espresso at £2.09 with an extra shot at 45p, both of these things written up on their (Welcome Break’s) board. This is where we encounter The Problem. The foreign girl (her not being English is relevant in a mo) stated that I couldn’t have the extra shot with a double espresso, only with the latte, Americano blah blah blah, she was sorry but this was company policy. She then said something I didn’t quite catch (due to the accent). I said ‘Ok, look I’m shattered, whatever, just make me the drink’. At this point a fella I hadn’t noticed chipped in with ‘extra shot 45p, it says it there on the board’. Not wanting my coffee maker to be distracted from her duties I filled him in on their (Welcome Break’s) company policy on such matters, latte, Americano blah blah blah. He just shook his head and walked off.

We now come to The Solution. Well my drink arrived, or rather two drinks arrived, and my new favourite person in the world said ‘that will be £4.18 please’. ‘Excuse me’ says I, ‘what are you charging me for?’. ‘Two double espressos, it’s the best we (Welcome Break) can do for what you asked for’, this is what she had muttered and that I hadn’t understood. Now I’m trying really hard not to lose it here, I think had I not been so utterly and completely fucked I’d have failed. I lowered my voice and said ‘No, the best you could’ve done would’ve been to make me a double espresso and a single espresso, thus giving me the three shots I had originally asked for and not the four shots you have now presented me with’. She was silent, thought for a moment, and handed me 20p. The difference between a single and a double. Whoop-dee-fucking-doo! I walked off to have a little cry in the corner, drink my now quadruple espresso and wait until I came round enough to get my sorry ass home.

After a couple of days of recovery I thought back to the shitty experience at Welcome Break and thought that that really was crap, I must tell them so! So an email was drafted and sent, basically summing up what I have told you, with an added question regarding the exact value of a single shot of espresso. Was it £1.89 (single), £1.05 (half price of a double), £1.33 (price I had to pay for three, ignore I ended up with four) or 45 pissing pence (the price of the extra bastard shot I had wanted). Which leads us to The Resolution.

I have received today a full an unreserved apology, a guarantee that they maintain high levels of standards at all times, the excuse of new staff at a busy time (it was dead) with no manager available, and not only a full refund but a free drink at any branch I like. Any branch of Starbucks that is! I didn’t use Starbucks, as I mentioned on numerous occasions it was the Welcome Break outlet I’d used. I’d walked passed the two Starbucks outlets to get to this shitfest Welcome Break one. The fuckers have only gone and passed the buck! Well I was going to thank Starbucks, commend them on their handling of customer complaints, and then explain there really is no need. But you know what? Bollocks, I’m taking it. That’s a win for me, a kinda win for Starbucks in as much as raising my opinion of them (though they didn’t answer my value of a shot question), and a complete loss for Welcome Break. Who are buck passing, incompetent fucktards. Shove your extra shot.

Creatures of the Night

So come 7pm on a Saturday I’m ready to head out. Pubbing? No. Clubbing? God no. Eats? Na aah. I’m off to Middleton Lakes RSPB reserve for a Creatures of the Night event. With the promise of bat identification and moth trapping fun from 19.30 to 23.00. I’m gonna throw in a spoiler right now, it was, in the main part, wank.

It was a sell out evening, £6 a head for members £8 if not, with 30 of us mugs in attendance. We were split into two groups and it was at this point that 15 people, 1 of them me, had a one and a half hour bat identification walk, minus the identification, and generally minus the bloody bats as well. Our big fat hairy oaf of a guide was Pete, who I believe can not only not tell bat species apart, but probably can’t tell bats apart from other orders of mammals. I bet if a bat landed on his face, looked him square in the eye and said “Pete, I’m a bat, a brown long-eared bat to be precise you god damn son of a bitch” and then punched him on the nose he’d still be none the wiser.

We had bat detectors (we can’t hear the noises bats make when echo locating) that are handy bits of kit but only if you know how to use them, and they come in two sorts from what I gathered. The most common ones (the ones we were given to use) have to be set at a specific frequency and will then pick up the bats that only emit sounds at that range and amplify the sound for us to hear, thus being able to tell species apart. Though as it turns out there is some overlap between species which is where having a knowledgeable guide is handy, sorry, would have been handy. Fuckwit Pete couldn’t tell his arse from his elbow, let alone a common pipistrelle from a soprano pipistrelle. Where was I? Oh yes, detectors. Well good old Pete had the all singing all dancing type of detector that doesn’t have to be set at one frequency, this bad boy will pick up all the species from the get go. Two problems. Firstly you still have to know what the different species sound like, so as I’ve said before, we were fucked on that one. And secondly, his detector wasn’t working! Nice one Pete. I asked Pete why there isn’t a detector that not only picks up the bat sounds but then, with a reasonable degree of certainty that I’m sure could be achieved, tell you what species it is? He reckoned there wasn’t a big enough market for it to justify development costs but I knew of 15 folks right there and then that would have snatched one up! As it turns out the other group had a more successful time of it, funny that.

At this point I’m thinking of fucking off. It’s 9pm and I can’t see things getting any better, but they did, eventually. I’d been robbed of 6 quid so I thought “fuck it, let’s see this out”. So I wandered back to where the moth traps were set up near the car park, leaving Pete to shove his detector up his arse. At this point we had hot chocolate and marshmallows laid on for us. Do not ever buy Sainsburys basics hot chocolate. Blurgh blurgh blurgh. Marshmallows were nice though, not had em in years. After pitching the drink off out into the darkness and hoping to hear Pete screaming “oh god my face, it burns” but alas not, I wandered over to where Bob, one of the moth experts was stood on his own. It was a clear night and he was looking up at the stars, turns out he knows a thing or two about the sky at night does Bob. He was pointing out this and that which I found really great. I can do the plough and the North star, then I’m fucked. It ended up with everyone gathered round totally engrossed. Then one prick got his iphone out or whatever to show off some constellation id app bollocks, only one fella showed any interest, Bob had the rest of us in the palms of his hands. Then he showed us a bit of kit you can buy for only a few quid called a planisphere that will show you a map of the sky on any given day of the year, totes getting me one of them.

Then we split up to go and look at the moth traps. Well I stuck to Bob like glue, not having another debacle of the like Pete provided, a family with a couple of young kids came with us, and one other woman. Well that bit was good too. Bob and his chums go out once a month doing these moth surveys and he sure knew his shit. Basically it’s a proper powerful light bulb on top of a box with a Perspex slanted roof that all manner of bugs, flies, moths etc get trapped in. The kids really enjoyed seeing the stuff up close and their enthusiasm rubbed off on us all I think. Plus we had a good chat about habitats and ecology so found it jolly interesting.

So after a well rocky start it sort of came good in the end thanks to moth man Bob. And with no thanks to shit Pete, bat man he ain’t.