Ready to retire for the night, TV switched off, lights out in the aquarium, waiting for Debbie and Lucy to come back in from the garden, I hear a feint "Paul" followed by a louder "Paul!" and then a very loud, you've got less than a second to get here, "PAUL!". I dashed through the house at lightning speed to see what was up.
Debbie pointed out that we had come under a late night ground assault from a battalion of slugs and snails. I watched on bleary eyed as Debbie ran inside to get something and on her return started bombing them with handfuls table salt. It does seem to do the trick although I'm not sure what effect it will have on the plants and there's so much salt in out garden now, there's no danger of any ice forming for the next 10 years.
This morning we examined the battlefield and while most of the critters had made a hasty retreat, there were some hard cases that refused to give up. I found some slug pellets in the shed but the label said they were dangerous for animals so I put those back. Meanwhile Debbie had found a tub of mixed sunflower flower seeds and wanted them sprinkling round the top of the garden.
There I was, dressed for work, dancing about in the flower bed doing the shake 'n' vac, scattering these seeds all over the place. Coming back down, my mud laden foot whizzed off the step, legs went in the air, arse hit the grass and my hand broke the bird bath into a thousand pieces.
If it hadn't been for those darn slugs and snails last night, I wouldn't have a superficial bird bath wound or a shiner on my backside, they've got to go and I'm open to suggestions...