A Deluge of Froggies and Prickly Crumbs: Just Another Sunday in the Little House

Major mega problems in the House of Lenck again this morning.  I was going to go to London and cheer on my valiant friend S who was running in a marathon, but the recent epic rainfalls had taken their toll on my pond and clogged up the overflow, as I discovered to my horror when I had a quick gander through the kitchen window at the crack of dawn.  The flooded garden situation was complicated by the presence of hundreds of tiny froggies the size of a Euro cent who were hopping all over the place, getting into mischief and under my feet.  Plus it was cold, and raining again, and water dripped down my collar, and with every step I was probably killing a dozen tiny frogs.

Frog on leaf

After unclogging the overflow and indulging in a bit of judicious bailing just in case, I retreated to my Nostalgia Studio with my ‘early morning tea’ and a newspaper, in a bad mood and chilly disposition.  While sipping my tea and reading the leftovers of last week’s Observer – I was in no mood to leave the house and buy a current one – I reflected once again on the Servant Problem.  This was a popular topic of conversation among the middling classes in the 1930s, and when in a certain sort of mood I like to revisit it.  Now I am not a great believer in servants, partly because I don’t like being spied on, partly because I don’t trust anyone but myself when it comes to cleaning my carpets and furniture, and certainly not laundering my clothes.  There are, however, three tasks I would love to delegate to someone else.  (1) Cleaning the bathtub; (2) laying a fire in the Parlour on a cold evening, so I am greeted by its dancing flames when I enter the house after a long day at work; and (3) preparing a cup of early morning tea.

Frog next to electric cable

A long time ago in the US I knew a charming Frenchman who made a cup of tea for his English wife every morning before he went to work while she stayed in bed and read the papers.  To this day I consider this the epitome of romantic love!  Just imagine being woken with a kiss and a cup of tea, complete with biscuits and the newly delivered newspaper!  Of course one could not expect to be kissed by one’s servant (interestingly enough this angle was never mentioned in the 1930s discussions of the servants’ problem), but just the tea, biscuits, and newspapers would do.

But since I strongly suspect that there would be no one out there willing to work for the pittance I could offer to clean my bathtub, lay my fire, and nip in to make a cup of tea every morning, I have reconciled myself to doing these things with my own fair hands, as I did this morning.  Strangely enough, I did not ruminate about getting a servant to unclog the overflow, which surely is much worse – especially in the dripping rain – than making a cup of tea.  I am a stranger to myself sometimes.

Frog in centre of picture

Having thus spent the morning pleasantly, I attempted to venture into the garden again.  The sun had come out, and everything looked green and pleasant.  The buddleias are in bloom, and after the rain there was a very fresh smell about.  It seemed a good idea to sit outside for a while in my deckchair, reading a book and listening to Nature’s wise counsels, which were manifesting themselves in the rustling of leaves and the singing of birds.

But alas such joys and the contentment they bring were not to be my portion.  I had hardly stepped into the Mouserleaum (lean-to conservatory) when I discovered dozens of tiny frogs which had discovered the raffia mat and, having decided it was excellent camouflage, had taken it for their own.  There was no way I could make it out into the garden without squashing dozens of froglets, and considering the dead-toll I had inflicted earlier when I unclogged the overflow of the pond I did not have the stomach to do that.

Frog on garden hose

I took some photos as evidence, but the ones of the frogs on the mat are useless – the mat is indeed the exact shade of the frogslets and unless they move they cannot be detected.  I did take some pictures of the froggies on my garden hose etc for your esteemed perusal.

The froggies have been extremely lucky this year.  Not only has the weather favoured them, but since I have not been able to do much gardening recently because of my injured hand, the garden is very shady and overgrown and provides excellent cover for them, which stops the birds, which normally come into my garden to eat the tiny frogs as they emerge from the pond, to inflict their usual ravages.

Oh well, back to reading the papers!  Incidentally, do you know the famous German proverb, ‘People who never eat in bed don’t know how prickly crumbs are?’  Every indulgence has to be paid for.