The Danger Within
Weather in the good ol' UK has been unusually excellent for the past few weeks, allowing for maximum exploitation of outdoor activities. I have used this time to bike ride, sit outside, garden, and do various other random outdoor activities. Sunshine every day, flowers everywhere, lambs bouncing through fields in ignorant bliss, birds singing and happy people -- Glorious.
However, all of this extended sunlight and absolute lack of rain has uncovered an unexpected and terrible truth: I have discovered that, contrary to my previous belief, England is indeed a wild and dangerous place to live, and certainly not suitable for children (and not just because the UN says so).
Venomous snakes? Deadly spiders? Large opportunistic reptiles?
No, what I have uncovered is far worse... Britain might not have hurricanes, F1 or higher tornadoes, discernable earthquakes, volcanic activity or tsunamis, but by god do they have thorny weeds. Stinging nettles and indestructible vines with blood thirsty thorns invade every corner of the English landscape; stinging nettles always waiting to sting the crap out of you and cause great discomfort that can only be relieved by the leaves of the dot plant that always grows next to it; thorny vines, shrubs and undergrowth that are always ready to trip you up, snag your clothes and rip into your epidermis.
They are always lying in wait for their next unsuspecting victim.
Clearly in control of the battlefield, these plants deserve a lot of credit not simply for their survival in this country, but more so for their triumphant and highly successful occupancy of the land and its people -- for not only have they evolved with time to survive slightly frozen winters, months of continuous drizzle, mucky soils and avid gardeners, but they have also managed to evolve highly effective defenses against England's most dangerous predator, the sheep.
Thus while the landscape may appear quite lovely, things are not always as they seem: for all you know those apparently joyful lambs actually just incurred the wrath of a stinging nettle.
However, all of this extended sunlight and absolute lack of rain has uncovered an unexpected and terrible truth: I have discovered that, contrary to my previous belief, England is indeed a wild and dangerous place to live, and certainly not suitable for children (and not just because the UN says so).
Venomous snakes? Deadly spiders? Large opportunistic reptiles?
No, what I have uncovered is far worse... Britain might not have hurricanes, F1 or higher tornadoes, discernable earthquakes, volcanic activity or tsunamis, but by god do they have thorny weeds. Stinging nettles and indestructible vines with blood thirsty thorns invade every corner of the English landscape; stinging nettles always waiting to sting the crap out of you and cause great discomfort that can only be relieved by the leaves of the dot plant that always grows next to it; thorny vines, shrubs and undergrowth that are always ready to trip you up, snag your clothes and rip into your epidermis.
They are always lying in wait for their next unsuspecting victim.
Clearly in control of the battlefield, these plants deserve a lot of credit not simply for their survival in this country, but more so for their triumphant and highly successful occupancy of the land and its people -- for not only have they evolved with time to survive slightly frozen winters, months of continuous drizzle, mucky soils and avid gardeners, but they have also managed to evolve highly effective defenses against England's most dangerous predator, the sheep.
Thus while the landscape may appear quite lovely, things are not always as they seem: for all you know those apparently joyful lambs actually just incurred the wrath of a stinging nettle.
posted by joey at 2:14 PM
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