The Monsters I’ve Created

 If you enjoy writing then you will know that it is much more fun to create monsters than the good characters. There’s more depth to a monster. 

Now that we are back from our little break and I’ve uploaded my photos, watered the plants, fed the birds and sponsored everyone who did things for charity over half term, I have time to sit and reflect on some of the monsters I’ve created. 

Once the Long Suffering Husband and I were far away enough from Oxford to no longer be able to play, “Bike!” and we had run out of things to spy with our little eye we reverted to some of the more complex games we used to play with the children, that I used to play on wet camping trips with my parents. We looked at the far side of the river bank, where the trees arched to make what could have been an entrance to a lair and we used our imaginations, taking it in turns with the words.

On...the...banks...of...the... Thames.....was....a.....world....known.....to......few...known....as....Neverythia. Nevereythia......was....home....to....a.......strange.....group.....of.....beings. They.....had....webbed....hands......and.....webbed.....feet.....large.....bulbous.....eyes....and.....sharp.....pointed.....teeth. Their....favourite...food...was...stale....cheesy....quavers....stolen......from.....unsuspecting....people..... picnicking. 

We had created a monster. Actually, we had created a whole village of monsters, living in a network of tunnels running the whole 180 miles of the Thames.

Those sort of monsters, the imaginary kind, are fine. However, once I got home I discovered that I have created some bird monsters. Greedy, bird monsters. Before I left, I filled up the feeders. There were 12 fat balls, a suet block, one container full of mixed seed, another full of sunflower hearts, a tray of Nigella seeds, and a mixed plate with porridge oats, peanuts, mealworms and some more seed. As the birds are quite hungry at the moment I was worried that it might not last. However, I wasn’t expecting them to go wild and have a rave in my absence. Every scrap of food had gone, the feeders all knocked over (the sunflower tube is still missing) and there were ruffled feathers all over the place. It seems as though I’ve tuned our nice little garden birds into monsters.

We were surprised at how few people we saw on our walking holiday. It wasn’t like walking up Ben Nevis or wandering around the Lake District, where there are all sorts of people to look at. . Outside of the towns the only people you saw were the dedicated charity walkers. They all passed us at some speed. Five men passed, one with a considerably larger rucksack than anyone else. We passed them a little further up the path where they had stopped to have a cheese sandwich (other sandwiches are available, although don’t tell the walkers because they all have cheese). Then they passed us again. The LSH couldn’t help but comment on the backpack.

“Oh no, he’s walked from Leicester,” they told us, “We just joined him at Oxford.”

I wanted to ask him who had died, or what he was grieving for but that sort of thing isn’t done so I just asked about footpaths from Leicester and was told, “Canals!”  He looked quite fresh considering he had already walked about 170 miles. I started to think of charity walkers as monsters who were making me feel guilty for a gentle walking holiday. For a brief moment I caught myself thinking, “I could do a long walk for charity.” However, I’m not ready to create that monster yet.

I do get it. Honestly, I do. It’s just that I’m not a good person. I just want a nice little 8-10 mile walk, without having to raise money. Actually, what I’d really like is a fair world where we all pay enough to help people whatever they’ve got, so that you don’t have to hope to die of breast cancer rather than a little known cancer that lodges itself between your liver and pancreas. Every time I donate to any cause it gives me a moment’s worry that there are so many other things that could use my patronage but as the LSH often points out, I think too much. 

It is only just recently that the LSH has joined me on my long walks. He used to be the kind of person who complained if I suggested walking to Morrison’s. Now, he’ll even walk to Tesco and this walking holiday was his idea. Normally, we go somewhere pretty and I drag him up a mountain and he complains. However, the challenge of the whole of the Thames path broken into sections of 30ish miles over three days is appealing to him. 

“What’s the time?” he asked, as we were nearing Goring.

“Just gone three,” I told him.

“We could carry on the Reading and get the train back to the car,” he said.

I think I have created a monster.