Bitch on the Blog

July 25, 2012

Each parting has its secret

Filed under: Communication,Friends — bitchontheblog @ 18:05
Tags: , , , , ,

On the whole people get it wrong. Which is why it’s wonderful when someone gets it right.

The art of giving presents was brought to my attention (by another blogger)  just now.

When his sense of humour was still intact – shortly after we separated – FOS presented me with a parting gift from heaven: A composting bin complete with worms. It’s all I ever wanted: A wormery. No joke. I was deliriously happy. Not so happy that I would have married him again but very very happy. I mean it. I was. Unfortunately, you need to choose your friends wisely. At that time my life was everyone’s soap opera so ‘friends’ thought he was taking the piss. Not so. He was most thoughtful. Tell your friends they’ve got it wrong: Why not shove a rock uphill instead?

Yes, so that was good. Other than worms give me flowers.




  1. No body Loves me.
    No body Likes me.
    I’m going to the garden to eat worms>
    Long thin squiggly ones.
    Short fat slimy ones.
    See how they wiggle and the squirm.
    I bite off the heads,
    Suck out the juice
    And throw the skins away.
    Nobody Loves me.
    Nobody Likes me.
    I’m going to eat worms all day.

    I made a compsos wormery. I had to go to several fishing tackle shops before I could find Brandling and Tiger worms. Found out that we don’t have enogh waste in our house to keep it going and no local green grocer to scrounge from.

    Darwin di lots of work on worms BTW!

    Comment by David — July 25, 2012 @ 18:25 | Reply

    • You are right, David. You need a particular type of worm otherwise it doesn’t work. My wormery came with ‘everything’. Over the years I’d sometimes replenish their population by ordering some more. Wonder what the postman would have made of it if he had known what was in the package. People are peculiarly squeamish about worms. I hold them in high esteem – such tireless workers. Clean. They don’t smell. They don’t make a noise. Per day they munch their way through as much vegetable matter as their own body weight. And they don’t sit on your lap expecting to be stroked.

      The biggest pleasure was that the type of wormery I had allowed me to drain off the liquid. I called it my ‘golden manure’. A present most welcomed by friends with gardens. Where some bring a bottle of wine I was asked to bring a bottle of my special (colour of dark urine). The stuff was dynamite.

      Come to think of it: Moving to inner city a couple of years ago (meaning no garden) I could have still kept the wormery going. Can you imagine it, David? At the end of my long obituary it will read: “At the time of her death she didn’t keep cats (as one would expect). Instead she was found dead with an alive and kicking wormery in her second floor flat. Her grief stricken son was not available for comment hoping with all his heart that his mother (when still of sound mind) made it quite clear in her last will and testament that she didn’t expect him to take on her legacy.” Sweet, don’t you think?


      Comment by Ursula — July 26, 2012 @ 05:28 | Reply

  2. I had forgotten. I also made a compost wormery. It was to keep the soil loose in the vegetable garden. I gave up the veg. garden. I could name 10 different animals that ate it.

    Comment by bikehikebabe66 — July 25, 2012 @ 18:33 | Reply

    • It’s the gardener’s lot, Bike Hike Babe. Joy, closely followed by misery. Indeed the philosopher would say that that which makes us happy has the greatest chance of making us unhappy. You sow, you grow, you wish you had a rifle to shoot the squirrels, not least slugs and snails. The rifle small enough to shoot blackfly has not yet been invented.


      Comment by Ursula — July 26, 2012 @ 05:36 | Reply

  3. What a sweet man! Is there a better way of saying “no hard feelings” than enabling your estranged spouse to grow organic vegetables? Letting you keep all the furniture and cutlery, perhaps.

    Comment by Gorilla Bananas — July 25, 2012 @ 20:07 | Reply

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