I Love Getting Muddy
Sally... As I said in my first story, I had dumped my boyfriend for two-timing me and he had been the second boyfriend to have proved to be totally unreliable. On odd occasions I had been back to the dance hall that had been the scene of the last crime. Whilst I had not see any boy to flutter my eyelashes at, I had become very friendly with Sally. She had been in my class at school, so we knew each other a certain amount, although we had not kept in contact in the mean time. We had now formed a very close relationship, which ended up with Sally moving in with me.
Sally had been to agricultural collage, studying horticulture. She was unable to get a job in that trade after training, but kept her hand in by improving my garden beyond anything I had managed. She was actually working all sorts of shifts in a local fast food restaurant.
She had found a frog living under a lavender shrub and so decided he needed a home. While I was getting dinner ready she went out with a plastic tub about two feet in diameter and the same depth.
The idea was to dig a hole and use the tub to make a mini-pond with a lily in it. A small house was to be put beside it that looked like a frog sized ceramic kennel with a pebble base. She wanted to do it now as the soil was soft from all the recent rain. I went into kitchen to prepare dinner.
I did not notice that it had started to rain again, or that Sally had come in to change. The first time I noticed anything, was when I was taking things into the living room and heard her cussing. The house was in place, but the hole was filling with water and mud faster than she could dig it out. As I watched, she tried to fit the tub into hole again and muddy water shot out over her. She was wearing her black wellies, but also a black coat that was clearly very waterproof, and very old. A bit tattered at the ends but clearly an early form of PVC. I had never known she had that, and she had no idea of my love of such things, or the clothes I had.
By now she was on her knees wriggling the tub into place. I could not resist it. She had the hosepipe out to fill the tub, probably from before the rain started. I turned the tap on so that it started to fill up the flower bed behind her. She was so absorbed with what she was doing that she never noticed.
With the rain and hose still soaking the area of the crime, I went and changed into my yellow gear and red boots. With a mug of tea in my hand I took it out to Sally. This was an ulterior motive as I ‘accidentally’ slipped as I passed it to her and knocked over. She had been kneeling in the mud, now she was lying on her side. Her comments were unrepeatable, especially as the tea had ended up over her as well. As she got up I was pelted with handfuls of mud and more abusive language, but at least now she was smiling as well. In reply I grabbed the hosepipe and turned it on her. This ended up as a wrestling match for control of the hose. The flower bed was churned into an ankle deep morass as we rolled each other over and dug handfuls of mud to squash onto each other.
The contest ended when Sally pushed me backwards onto the tub and my weight dropping onto it pushed it into position. However, this action displaced a vast amount on soft mud that shot out round the sides and covered me again.
Sally nipped into the outhouse and grabbed the camera to take my picture as I sat there. As I got up she took more pictures which only showed yellow for a small patch on the top of the hood, the rest being a covering of brown sludge. I then took pictures of Sally who was not a lot better. Her problem was that with no hood, her hair was plastered and a lot had run down the back of her neck.
We then took it in turns to hose each other down, before going in to shower and change.
Over dinner we discussed what we had done and I admitted how I felt about mud to Sally and how I had got the clothes I had. Hers were actually hand me downs from her dad that she had used at college when she could not avoid outdoor exercises when it wet. She as not dismayed about getting muddy and in the end admitted it was rather fun.
Sally had been to agricultural collage, studying horticulture. She was unable to get a job in that trade after training, but kept her hand in by improving my garden beyond anything I had managed. She was actually working all sorts of shifts in a local fast food restaurant.
She had found a frog living under a lavender shrub and so decided he needed a home. While I was getting dinner ready she went out with a plastic tub about two feet in diameter and the same depth.
The idea was to dig a hole and use the tub to make a mini-pond with a lily in it. A small house was to be put beside it that looked like a frog sized ceramic kennel with a pebble base. She wanted to do it now as the soil was soft from all the recent rain. I went into kitchen to prepare dinner.
I did not notice that it had started to rain again, or that Sally had come in to change. The first time I noticed anything, was when I was taking things into the living room and heard her cussing. The house was in place, but the hole was filling with water and mud faster than she could dig it out. As I watched, she tried to fit the tub into hole again and muddy water shot out over her. She was wearing her black wellies, but also a black coat that was clearly very waterproof, and very old. A bit tattered at the ends but clearly an early form of PVC. I had never known she had that, and she had no idea of my love of such things, or the clothes I had.
By now she was on her knees wriggling the tub into place. I could not resist it. She had the hosepipe out to fill the tub, probably from before the rain started. I turned the tap on so that it started to fill up the flower bed behind her. She was so absorbed with what she was doing that she never noticed.
With the rain and hose still soaking the area of the crime, I went and changed into my yellow gear and red boots. With a mug of tea in my hand I took it out to Sally. This was an ulterior motive as I ‘accidentally’ slipped as I passed it to her and knocked over. She had been kneeling in the mud, now she was lying on her side. Her comments were unrepeatable, especially as the tea had ended up over her as well. As she got up I was pelted with handfuls of mud and more abusive language, but at least now she was smiling as well. In reply I grabbed the hosepipe and turned it on her. This ended up as a wrestling match for control of the hose. The flower bed was churned into an ankle deep morass as we rolled each other over and dug handfuls of mud to squash onto each other.
The contest ended when Sally pushed me backwards onto the tub and my weight dropping onto it pushed it into position. However, this action displaced a vast amount on soft mud that shot out round the sides and covered me again.
Sally nipped into the outhouse and grabbed the camera to take my picture as I sat there. As I got up she took more pictures which only showed yellow for a small patch on the top of the hood, the rest being a covering of brown sludge. I then took pictures of Sally who was not a lot better. Her problem was that with no hood, her hair was plastered and a lot had run down the back of her neck.
We then took it in turns to hose each other down, before going in to shower and change.
Over dinner we discussed what we had done and I admitted how I felt about mud to Sally and how I had got the clothes I had. Hers were actually hand me downs from her dad that she had used at college when she could not avoid outdoor exercises when it wet. She as not dismayed about getting muddy and in the end admitted it was rather fun.
36-40, F
