Quality media houses have no difficulty issuing apologies for erroneous stories, and placing them with the same prominence as the offending item. I no media house, but I think that’s an admirable principle. So, I need to review my views about the ‘gardener’.
When I spoke to him on Friday about my missing golf balls, he had asked me if I hadn’t found them in the bushes; I hadn’t. Midway through Sunday afternoon, when I was pottering about in the garden one more time for a bit more exercise, I saw a golf ball behind a palm tree, by a wall. I probed it with my golf club, which I had ready to do some practice. “Good Lord, guvna, is that a body?” My eyes nearly popped out of my head as I saw a little nest of golf balls tucked behind the palm tree roots. I called to my daughter to come and see, as I needed a witness, otherwise this would just be another ‘Daddy story’. Down to the garden she trotted, barefooted, as is her way, and I pointed out the balls to her. I then gathered them together, nearly a dozen.
As I backed away to survey my pile, the sky suddenly decided to become the ground and the next thing I knew was the garden fork I had in one hand and the golf club were both flying to the real ground and me with it. I tried to do a minI-somersault and was on my back with my legs tangled in a shrub. Well, what a good thing the paparazzi were there, even though they were in mid-cackle. Buddum! “Mummy, Daddy fell!” Hahahahahaha!
As they would say, don’t try this at home, children.
So, Dylan deserves a partial apology for my thinking he was a near-brainless half wit. The man had method in his seeming madness.
Of course, he could have been more specific about where I might have found the balls in the bushes. Or he could have gone to his hideaway spot and uncovered them himself. That he didn’t makes me wonder if he was indeed playing his own version of ‘Gotcha’. That I had found one golf ball amongst the garbage bags makes me wonder if the man and his evil ways had sent me on wild goose chase with a tempting morsel. I had not bitten that bait, though, and had decided that if the balls were in the bag, so be it and damn his eyes. Now, I have to wonder if the man set pon me an is Obeah him a work.
It’s too early to decide how to play this next. Whether I give him the satisfaction of knowing that I found the balls, or if I probe him and find out why he’d not done more to solve the problem. Why on Earth tuck them away so well?
But, I’m going to treat him with a new degree of caution. The man has the potential to be dangerous.