A Wasp encounter

My mother had it in her head that by growing her own food she could somehow reduce her overheads and scrape together enough money to pay for our private schooling.  Pretty unrealistic way of looking at things considering she had three children.

 Our garden had a big old orchard with lots of cooking apples and when we first moved there it also had a little swimming pool, cold it was, but we didn't mind.  That was scrapped as an expensive luxury and she turned it into a vegetable plot.  We were harnessed in to pick and preserve the surplus crops.  The freezer overflowed with  stewed bramley apples, runner beans, rhubarb and peas.  

If my mother had had her way, all our spare time in the summer and autumn had to be ploughed into garden chores..  I remember sitting in front of the TV with a huge basket of apples a pot of water and a paring knife.  We peeled and cored for hours watching the black and white war films that were inevitable on a Sunday afternoon, until my thumb was raw.  I never did like Bramley stewed apple as the cores are tough and leave nasty bits that get stuck in your throat.  Needless to say our diet in the winter consisted of beefburgers, (cheap mince) chips, (home grown potatoes) frozen runner beans, stewed apples or rhubarb and custard.
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I had been ordered out to the fruit frame to pick red currants.  Not much fun but I was not a rebellious child and had yet to pluck up the courage to tell the mater where she could jump off.  We were polite children and had learnt to say thank you at school when we were punished!  I began stripping the bushes of their little red jewels only to discover that an inordinate amount of wasps were buzzing around me, quite angry at my intrusion on their patch.   I spotted a hole near the bush where the angry little blighters seemed to be coming from and decided that drastic action was needed.

Taking the initiative, I rummaged in the shed and found a jerry can of petrol.  Then I went inside and searched for protective clothing.  I borrowed my mothers mackintosh,  which came down to my feet, some very large Wellington boots, rubber gloves, a shopping basket to cover my head and to add that finishing touch, I removed a long net curtain from the kitchen window and draped it over the basket.   I was very confident that I could handle this crisis all by myself, in any case my mother had conveniently taken her self to the shops so I could not ask her permission.

Armed with a spade, a box of  matches and petrol, I was determined to solve the problem all by myself and show everyone how fearless I was... My plan of action was quite simple and straightforward.

1 Empty the contents of jerry can down hole
2 Light match and drop it in
3 Wait and see what happens
4 Dig out the nest

Naturally enough, the wasps were not very happy to have petrol poured into their nest and while I fumbled around with matches more and more flew out of the hole and buzzed round my head ominously.  I dropped a match in the nest but it went out..  After another two attempts, a jet of flame mingled with burning wasps shot out of the hole.

Victory, I thought, but had forgotten  the old saying, if I had ever heard it, 'Don't cry victory too soon.'. I grabbed my spade and thrust it deep into the rich brown soil (my mother loved horse manure and had smothered it everywhere), oblivious to the ways of wasps.  I jumped on the spade then put all my weight on the handle to leaver up the clod.

 Imagine my surprise or rather consternation when  I uncovered  what looked like a great big paper balloon split in two out of which spewed a multitude of wasps..  Alarmingly. the petrol had had no effect at all.  I had overlooked, in my ignorance, that  fire requires oxygen to burn and after the initial explosion it had gone out...  A swarm of irate wasps identified me as their foe, as indeed I was, and did their very best to show me off.

Beating a hasty retreat, I tripped over the net curtain and sprawled flat on my face in the manure.  It was no mean feat getting out of that fruit cage without a sting, I ran, one hand holding up the mac and the other trying to keep the shopping basket and curtain in place.  I did not look badk to see if they were following me, I just locked myself in the toilet for what seemed a long time.

I had quite some explaining to do when my mother got back from the shops.  It  always happened like that I had good intentions but things always went slightly pear shaped.