Still scribbling

You’ve got to give it to the folks who call to your house to spruik religion. Not much puts them off their stride.

Lately we haven’t seen them at our place but I have it on authority they’re up and about in other parts of the island. One foray a while back into our daughter’s front garden stands testimony to their determination and pluck.

At the time she and the family owned an exceedingly large, non-fluffy and deep-barking dog named Gunner. Big Gunner patrolled his space assiduously and because the house was surrounded by a high fence all attackers could be repelled at the gate. However a few persistent souls took it upon themselves to venture in. One young girl did so in order to read comforting words from the sheaf of religious tracts she was carrying. Almost knocking down the dog sign on the secured gate and completely ignoring the scuffling, thumping animals sounds from within, she negotiated the tricky latch and entered the front garden.

So far, so safe.

At the time the house was undergoing a  major reno. A bedroom window fronting onto the garden via a verandah had been smashed, there was plaster all over the bedroom floor and the verandah had become a dumping ground for junk bound for the tip. You get the picture. 

Into this chaos she edged. Was she put off by the disconcerting sounds of sledge-hammers being bashed against walls? Or muttering in a language she didn’t understand? Or the more worrying sounds of a huge animal thumping towards her through the undergrowth? Possibly so, but she stood her ground. 

As she knocked on the front door, regretting her decision to open the gate, the pounding of huge feet on the ground became louder and louder and now there was a hint of snarling. Around the corner, and onto the scene swept Gunner. 

The poor girl almost collapsed. Gunner stood quite still and barked. Could she become more scared? Well as it happened, yes she could, because at this stage the man on the business end of the sledge-hammer and who happens to come from Scotland stuck his head out the hole that used to be a window. He was covered all over in white powdered plaster, including on his beard and hair. To a young girl with faith in God he could have been the Holy Ghost.

The apparition looked at her and said, ‘Cahhna hhhepp yi’.

At least that’s what she thought he said. By now she must have been convinced she’d entered a house of horror inhabited by vicious animals and ghosts who spoke in tongues.

The man felt required to calm the intruder. His job wasn’t helped by the fact she could barely follow a word he was saying, and the continued presence of Gunner, who having decided she wasn’t a threat was doing a wee in the bushes. 

Somehow he got her to the gate and onto the street. Pamphlets flourished towards him were politely rejected. 

‘Goodbye’ she said with great relief.

‘Ghgbxy’ he replied.