From Cling Film Capers To HedgeHog Hijinks!

Whimsy On A Wednesday On A Thursday Because…

Cling Film. I feel it’s time I discussed this dreadful material that is also known as plastic wrap, amongst other things. Personally, I think it is made by the Devil himself and through all my years I have been unable to master the “wrap” technique. Every time I get it out, the whole situation ends up with me swearing violently at it and hurling it into a cupboard or across the room. Other people have witnessed my ordeal with wonder upon their faces. “How do you get into such a mess?” they ask.  This only makes me more annoyed and the wrapping situation worse. People who can plastic wrap with ease are advised to stay well out of my way. What is this wizardry you possess? 

For starters, I can’t even get it out of the cardboard tube. It is worse than sellotape for finding the end. Then when I do manage to find it, part of it refuses to undo and it tears in a misshapen fashion with one side of it refusing to relent. The unrolled part instantly folds in upon itself, forcing me to tear it off in a screwed up ball and throw it away. I say tear because the cardboard teeth along the box for precise cutting do not work. No. They are absolutely useless and are, maybe from the many times I have banged the box on the side of the unit, or violently forced the teeth to actually bite, as limp as overcooked spaghetti. (You wondered what I was got to say there, didn’t you. Well, I’ll have you know I’ve grown as a person. Except where cling film is concerned)

 If I actually manage to get a whole piece I go into a wild panic because I know I only have seconds before it caves in on itself like wet candy floss. I race to the salad bowl with my veil of film, trying to hold it with every one of my fingers so it stays flat, and I lay it on the bowl. It tries like a blighter to defy me by wrinkling at the edges. I pull at it gently and S_T_R_E_T_C_H  it over as far as I can and… find I didn’t cut enough off. At this point I could murder a village. If I have to pick a side then I’m going with tin foil. 

And that’s why I didn’t write yesterday. Also I forgot to pay my web hosting and my site went down.

I’m now 40 days into my 100 Days Of Wonder painting challenge and I must say some of it has been rather challenging. However, here I am nearly halfway through and sticking to task despite the things that beset me. 

For Easter I am having a “Good Friday Friendship Fuddle” where I will be making Woodberry Hash and Rumbledethumps. I can feel your jealousy from here.

On Saturday I have to make a Simnel cake at my mother’s request. That’s a whole day I’ll never get back again. I looked up the recipe and it’s a right palaver. Still, it must be done. I don’t know how I’m going to wrap the thing, I might have to buy a cake tin. 

On Sunday I am gong to my mother’s house for beef en croute and lashings of The Blood Of Christ.  

I hope you all have a lovely Easter holiday. I was going to do a Biblical picture of Tex but even I realised that’s wholly inappropriate. Like I said, I’ve grown as a person. Sometimes, I even know when to stop. It’s not nearly as much fun though.

Anyway, here’s a story for any of you with young children that I knocked together t’other day for a bit of whimsy, and for the hedgehog prompt for the painting challenge. Maybe you can use it to read to anyone overwhelmed by too much chocolate and cling film to make them feel better about life. 

Spike and the Featherhogs

In the whimsical land of Fluffington Forest, not far from Sherwood forest but a lot more progressive, there lived a hedgehog named Spike. Now, Spike was not your ordinary hedgehog. Oh no. While his name might suggest a prickly demeanour, his pointy parts were about as threatening as a feather boa at a tea party. His spikes were as soft as clouds and as fluffy as marshmallows. Instead of prickling, they tickled! (that’s what they all say)

Yes, you heard that right, Spike’s spikes were softer than a kitten’s purr. Unless your kitten is a tiger then we might have to find a different similie.

 Spike’s spikes were more like downy feathers which made him the laughing stock of the woodland critters. Have you noticed in stories how the “other” animals are always a bit mean? That’s a lot like life. Pay heed to fairytales, legends and stories – there’s wisdom in them there words. Now, back to Spike.

Every time Spike tried to join in a game of hedgehog tag or attempted a hedgehog handshake or tried to pay spike ball, the other hedgehogs would giggle uncontrollably. Even the squirrels would snicker, and the rabbits would hop away in fits of laughter. Rude. Feeling dejected and misunderstood, Spike decided it was time to embark on a grand adventure. He packed a small knapsack with snacks (in hedgehog land we call this a snacksack) and set off deep into the forest determined to find other hedgehogs like himself.

As he trundled along, his soft spikes swaying gently in the breeze, Spike encountered all sorts of creatures. There were chatty chipmunks, melodious murderous magpies, and even a wise old owl who offered cryptic advice about finding his true tribe.

“Look within to find without,” and, “Don’t hog any hedges!” That’s owls for ya. 

But try as he might, Spike couldn’t seem to find any hedgehogs with feathery spikes instead of spiky spikes. He met hedgehogs with rainbow-coloured quills, hedgehogs who could juggle acorns with their noses, and even a hedgehog who claimed to be a distant cousin of a unicorn. However, everybody knew it was a rose bush thorn stuck on his nose but nobody said anything. So long as glitter didn’t come flying out of his bottom and he didn’t try and fly out of a tree then all was good. 

Just when Spike was starting to lose hope and had eaten all of his snackwiches, he stumbled upon a clearing in the forest. And there, nestled among the daisies and bluebells were a group of hedgehogs unlike any he had ever seen. Their spikes were as soft and fluffy as his own! In fact, some of them were downright downy!

With a squeal of delight Spike bounded into the clearing, his heart brimming with joy. The other hedgehogs greeted him with open arms (or rather, open paws) and welcomed him into their fluffy embrace. They danced and frolicked together, their laughter ringing out like wind chimes in the springtime.

Spike had found his true tribe, a family of hedgehogs whose spikes were as soft as their hearts. And as they basked in the warm glow of friendship, he knew that he had finally found where he truly belonged.

However, one sunny afternoon, as Spike and his featherhog pals were nibbling on berries and leaping at the flutterbies flitting by, they heard a rustle in the bushes. It was Red Rogue, the sly fox with a glint in his eye and a rumble for hedgehog in his tummy.

“Ah-ha!” Red exclaimed, licking his cinnamon lips. “A feast of hedgehogs with spiky spikes awaits me! I do like a meal that comes with a toothpick!” 

Spike and his friends exchanged worried glances. They couldn’t roll up into a ball like regular hedgehogs to protect themselves. What would they do? But little did Spike know that his downy new family did not cower or quiver! Oh, no! They were hedgehogs with clever pants even if their spikes were more like tickle sticks than armour.

“Huddle up, hoggers!” squeaked Lance, the youngest of the prickle. “We might not be spiky, but we’ve got smarts!”

With determined nods and wiggles of their fluffy tails, the hedgehogs set to work. They gathered leaves, twigs, and anything they could find, fashioning them into a tangled mess around themselves. It was a fortress of foliage, sticks and branches made by the construction crew.

Red the Rogue approached, his nose twitching with anticipation. But when he saw the hedgehogs surrounded by their leafy barricade, confusion clouded his cunning eyes.

“What’s this?!” Red exclaimed, scratching his head. “Where are your spiky spikes?!”

Lance poked his head out from the fortress, a mischievous glint in his eye. 

“We may not have spiky spikes, but we’ve got teamwork and tickle sticks!” he declared proudly. “Come anywhere near us and we will tickle you until you are sick.”

Red blinked, then shrugged, realising this meal wouldn’t be so tasty if he had a bad case of nausea. With a grumble he slunk away into the shadows to try and find something a bit more ‘Fast Food.’  

Spike and his pals celebrated their victory with a feast of berries and laughter, knowing that from this day forward the feathery hogs from Fluffington Forest could outsmart the sharpest of teeth.

The Spiky End