Camouflaged Cyclist

Today I drove down to the shop that sells gardening supplies and all things chicken related, I looked at the array of young plants for sale, everything from melons to lettuce and chillies to celery. I made my purchase of garden ant granules: it stops the ants stealing my slug pellets as you sprinkle them and the blighters won’t go anywhere near them, thus saving my emerging spinach crop.

I’m driving home and something catches my attention, or rather doesn’t stand out but causes me to brake suddenly. As my car jolts and screeches I notice that I have narrowly missed hitting a man who has stopped his scooter to make a phone call.

Now I understand you thinking I may have not have been paying due care an attention, and yes I admit I was singing along to the iPod as the late, Ian Dury sang, Hit Me with your Rhythm Stick, but it’s the man on the scooter who is lucky I didn’t hit him.

The reason I didn’t spot him, is he’s pulled over into a patch of flowering rape and wild poppies that’s a riot of red and yellow, and he’s wearing a green and yellow striped jumper and red corduroy trousers and to top it off his scooter is yellow. He’s so well hidden if he’d been a pro-Russia Ukrainian rebel, I’d have been hit across the back of the head by a baseball bat by now.

He looks at me wondering why I’ve stopped, so I swallow my heart, feel it take up residence in my chest cavity once more before I drive off.

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