Driving Me Nuts
MODERN LIFE SHORT STORY BY KATE HOGAN
Can Joseph prioritise his wife to save his marriage? His retirement hobbies are getting out of hand and it’s driving Norma crazy.
“You’ve gone too far this time, Joseph,” I said, staring at him, flat on his back under what was left of the apple tree, which had crashed through the conservatory.
“I’m ringing an ambulance,” I added, while wondering if they’d send the men in white coats for the two of us.
“No,” Joseph squeaked. “I’m OK. Just help me up, Norma. The roof might cave in.”
I teetered backwards, surveying the damage.
The apple tree seemed to be groaning, as if, like me, it couldn’t take any more.
I didn’t blame it. Not one bit.
“It’s costing us a fortune,” I’d said a year ago, not long after Joseph decided that early retirement made this the time to get back in touch with nature.
“How many types of seed can a bird eat? What’s wrong with throwing out a few crusts like they used to do in the old days?” I’d asked.
He’d waved the “Birds In Your Back Garden” hardback he’d ordered from the internet.
“Different birds like different food,” he said, eyes gleaming.
“Some thrive on Niger seed, some like sunflower seed, some like . . .”
“You’re spending at least fifty pounds a month,” I said.
“And that’s not even counting the money you’re spending on all these fancy bird feeders hanging everywhere.
“Which – by the way – nearly knock me out every time I try to hang the washing out.”
I pointed to the fading bruise on my forehead.
“Couldn’t we plan to get back to nature at a nice little hotel by the sea or something? It’s my retirement, too, you know.”
He wasn’t listening.
“Men go a bit funny in the head when they retire,” my sister said.
“Look at my Jim’s sudden desire to put shelves and cupboards up everywhere.
“Best leave them to it. It’s only a hobby – no harm.”
Well, a few shelves and cupboards wouldn’t be so bad.
In fact, our home was full of DIY projects that he’d been promising to complete for years.
But I was banging my head on swinging bird feeders every time I stepped out the back door – that was what I would call “harm”.
Tripping over the wires from Joseph’s ridiculous bird-box camera systems wasn’t much fun, either.
“We’re endangering ourselves with all this paraphernalia you’re ordering online,” I pleaded.
“But we can watch the babies being born,” he said enthusiastically.
“Look – I’ve rigged everything up so we can watch it all on the little portable TV in the dining-room.”
“I don’t remember you being in such a rush to watch our babies being born,” I said with a sniff.
“In fact, Joseph, I vaguely remember you fainting and having to be put into a side ward.”
“You’ll love it, Norma,” he said, probably not hearing a word I’d said.
But before long, I’d almost become used to the garden being like some kind of assault course, and in fairness, Joseph was right.
The garden was soon filled with birds I’d never seen before: goldfinches, bullfinches, greenfinches and more.
Despite myself, I did love seeing all the wildlife.
I was watching the delightful birds in awe one evening when I saw two squirrels doing fancy two-steps and gymnastics along the branches of our apple tree, before hurling themselves on to the bird feeders.
I laughed out loud at their antics.
“Joseph!” I shouted, thinking he’d be delighted.
“Tell me it’s a nuthatch,” he said, nearly knocking me over.
“Squirrels,” I said, pointing excitedly as the bottom of one of the feeders gave way under a herculean wrench from one of the squirrels.
I watched, fascinated, as the nuts cascaded out all over the lawn.
“Aren’t they funny, love?” I asked.
My husband didn’t say a word, but rushed to the door.
From the patio, Joseph started what appeared to be some sort of Highland Fling, with lots of strange roaring vocalisations.
I don’t know what the neighbours thought, but the squirrels were none too impressed and scarpered up the apple tree in seconds.
“Are you really that excited?” I asked when he came back inside.
He looked at me darkly.
“Got to get rid of ’em,” he said.
I frowned at him.
“But they’re nice. Fluffy. We’ve never had squirrels in the garden before . . .”
But he was staring at the broken bird feeder with such concentration it could have been the Lost Ark.
“Got to get rid,” he repeated.
Maybe if his Highland dancing had done the trick and scared the squirrels off for good, things wouldn’t have got so bad.
Of course, it didn’t work.
Every day the squirrels came back – and they brought reinforcements.
More squirrels and new plans, destroying bird feeders and all before them.
Joseph was determined to beat them. He spent hours concocting ways to protect his feeders from the fluffy-tailed invaders.
At first it was a bit of wire here . . . a bit of glue there.
Squirrels dealt with those efforts without much of a thought, managing to rip the bird feeders and covering the garden with seeds and nuts.
Joseph ran around like a headless chicken, mock-threatening them with an old rake.
Then I got up in the early hours one night, thinking there was someone creeping about the garden.
There was. Joseph!
I watched him with a creeping feeling of dismay.
He was inserting wire hangers in all sorts of strange places so the squirrels couldn’t get through to the nuts.
By morning the garden looked as if we’d been invaded by creatures from outer space. I saw the thoughtful looks on the squirrels’ faces before they took on the challenge and met it.
Even Joseph running around screaming with the rake had no effect on them now.
They obviously thought it was some kind of entertainment Joseph was putting on for them, but I’d started getting very strange looks from the neighbours!
“Joseph,” I said one morning, as he was skulking round the garden, grey and haggard after being up all night. “We really need to talk.
“Why have you nailed all the lids from my pans on the smashed-up bird feeders?
“There are hardly any birds to feed. The garden’s a sodden nut and seed infested mess.
“You’ve got to give this up or I’m leaving. You’ve gone mad, Joseph. You’re stalking round like a crazed man. You hardly recognise me.
“You don’t talk to me. You just give me these strange chilly stares, while you think of your next manoeuvre to beat the squirrels. You . . .”
“That’s it!” Joseph said, as if I didn’t exist. “Chilli – chilli powder!”
He slapped his own head.
“Squirrels hate it. How had I forgotten?”
That was when I took myself into the bedroom to pack a case and book a last-minute weekend away by the sea, to get us both away from the madness!
An hour later, after hearing an almighty crash from outside, I was staring at the wreckage of our marriage, and our home.
“Ambulance is on its way,” I finally said after explaining the sorry story to the operator.
“I wasn’t even injured, Norma,” Joseph whimpered when the paramedics had left.
“It wasn’t blood, Norma, it was chilli powder. I made a paste and painted the apple tree branches.
“I must have just been a bit heavy on that last branch. The one the squirrels . . .”
“So you’re really not injured, Joseph?” I asked. “But you will be – seriously – if the garden isn’t back to the way it used to be when I get back.
“And now, look! The conservatory needs sorting, too.
“I don’t want to see another bird feeder in my life! E-mail me with the pictures when it’s done.”
I picked up my case from the hall and headed outside to the car.
“But Norma!” he shouted. “Where are you going?”
“Leaving,” I said, as I headed towards the door.
Maybe I’d stay at the little B&B by the sea, then start a new life.
“Please don’t leave me, Norma. I love you. It’s only a hobby.
“I know I’ve been acting crazy, but what with early retirement, I’ve just been trying to keep occupied!
“But I’ll change. I’ll stop all this bird stuff. Take you wherever you’d like to go, if we can go anywhere. Nothing’s worth anything without you.”
I felt an unexpected surge as tears pricked my eyes. Joseph loved me!
I guess I’d known he did, but it had been a while since he’d uttered those three important little words. I stared at his sad face.
I thought of how much I’d started to love the birds, too. I didn’t want them disappearing from our garden.
I didn’t want Joseph, mad as he was, disappearing from my life, either!
“How about a cup of tea and we’ll talk about our plans?” I asked, but Joseph already had his arms around me, and that was more than good enough for me! n
Enjoy exclusive short stories every week inside the pages of “The People’s Friend”. On sale every Wednesday.
