The story of John’s Garden-thing

Reading time: 5 mins

Last weekend my family and loads of friends did a garden makeover on another friend’s garden whilst her hubby was away for the weekend.  One of the men that helped out wrote the following ‘story’ about it.

I found it hilarious, but then I was there and I do know all the people he’s referring to, so it may not mean so much to other people, either way it’s written brilliantly so I felt I ‘had’ to share it with you

“The story of John’s Garden-thing

(with apologies to Enid Blyton) By Rod, Hastings

May 2011

Once upon a time there was a garden. It had green-things and flowery-things, and shed-things and table-ey things.

Then the green-things grew and grew, and all of a sudden there was a lot less of the garden than anyone could remember, and not all the shed-things and table-ey things could be found anymore.

So one day the Jo-thing and John-thing (the nice people who lived in the non-green bit) realised that their friends might not be able to find their house-thing before much longer, and decided that they really ought to do something about it.

So they had a cup of tea, and let the green-things grow some more while they had a think.

Then, months and months later (after they had forgotten they were still supposed to be thinking) the Jo-thing suddenly had a bright idea. Soon, it was going to be the John-thing’s birthday. And it was going to be a Special One – because he was going to be half-a-hundred-years old this time.

With him now being very old and wobbly, the Jo-thing thought it would be a lovely surprise if the John-thing had somewhere nice to sit and rest his poor old legs in the sun in the garden.

As it so happened, because the John-thing kept losing the front door behind all the green-things (and got fed up trying to find a new way into his house each day) he decided to go and live in a tent for a while on some church-thing with his other loony friends.

This was just the opportunity the Jo-thing had been looking for! She gathered up all their remaining friends together, and told them of her brilliant idea. It was going to be a BIG SECRET. They were going to chop down the green-things, get some wood and string and glue and things like that, and make the John-thing a brand new decking-thing to sit upon, in his garden.

She told them they were all allowed to bring their sharp and pointy tools, and bring their electric-powered cutty-up, choppy-down things, and that it wouldn’t hurt a bit – if they were really, really careful. Besides, who needs all their fingers to count to ten these days! But she did say she was only joking about that last bit. Probably.

So, when the camping day arrived she put a tent on the John-thing’s back, loaded him up with his blankets-and-duvets, and pots-and-pans…compass, maps, stove, kettle, water bottle…hat, sun-cream, mosquito-net and Kendal mint cake…and finally, giving him an armful of spare socks, a kiss and a helpful shove, she waved him goodbye with her hanky and watched him walk off, bumping into parked cars as he made his way, bent-double, clanking and jingling all the way up the road, until he was finally out of sight.

Then the Jo-thing climbed back into the house through an upstairs window, and telephoned all their friends.

Now was the moment!

She put on her Action-Girl cape and bullet-proof shorts, and blew a loud whistle with her fingers. Very soon dozens and dozens of people arrived with hammers and nails, and saws and drills, and spades and pick-axes, and set to work.

There were so many people that names began to get muddled. Everybody likes to be called by their proper name don’t they – rather than “Oi, you!” or called by somebody else’s name instead (and I’m sorry if your name appears here back-to-front, or if someone else has borrowed it while you weren’t looking).

There was Colin (who is Colin-and-Anne Colin) who had a PLAN, and it was very, very important that he was there. He pointed at things, and measured things. He lent people all his tools if they didn’t have any – and everyone promised not to be silly with them. And very soon the things that got pointed at and measured started to get done by all the many helpers.

Then there were the twins: Richard (who was called Leon) and Leon (who was called Richard). They had the next most important job in the WHOLE project. They passed the screws when the screws were needed (the entire thing would have FALLEN DOWN if it wasn’t for their screws); and they scraped and swept the dirt and took the weeds off the path (it would have been IMPOSSIBLE to use the path if they hadn’t un-buried it); and finally they sorted out the step (you simply COULDN’T get onto the decking safely without that step!)

There was Bill, with a beard (and a boat) who dug holes and lifted loads. And Paul, with a beard (and without a boat) who dug loads of holes, and lifted whole loads. And Martin (without a boat but with a hat) who dug loads and lifted holes.

Then there was Colin (who is Colin-and-Patsy Colin) who cut the grass and screwed the screws, and when he got tired used the little solar panel in the top of his head and sat in the sun until he had re-charged;

Then there was Rob (who isn’t called Rod) who sawed and drilled and hammered and dug. And when he wasn’t doing that his Luke dug and hammered and drilled and sawed instead. Sometimes Rob would lose things, and everyone would have to stop and go looking for them. Sometimes it was “Where’s my drill gone?” Sometimes it was “Where’s my hammer gone?” But usually it was just “Has anyone seen my Lucozade? Ah, there it is!”

Then there was Rod (who isn’t called Rob) who tried hard not to saw, drill, hammer or dig his fingers, or drop things on his toes if he could help it – but he didn’t always manage it. (And whenever it happened, he thought of lots of different words, but tried very hard not to say any of them).

Then there was Rena (who was sometimes called Radar) who squirted preservative at the wood to stop it going rotten – and at people’s smelly boots to stop them being stinky (or if they said her name wrong).

Then there was Anne and Janet, who used their clever green-fingers to stop all the green-things from misbehaving or bullying the other flowers when they thought they weren’t watching.

Then there was Jenny, our Anchor, who painted the anchor…and the gates…and the fingerprints (again) of those who got a bit too curious about whether the paint was wet or not.

And in her spare time…she made up a rhyme.

Then there was David – who when he wasn’t drilling with drills, or hammering with hammers – he was painting with paint (or being painted by Jenny).

Then there was Patsy and Sue, and Fiona and Kelly, who fetched and carried, and carried and fetched, and filled in with all the little jobs that accidentally-on-purpose got left behind by the others, because they were either too dirty or too dangerous to do!

There was so much wood and soil, and rock and rubble and stones that needed to be shifted. And in particular there was a big Stone and a smaller Stone – Chris and Sarah, who happily shifted all that soil and rock, rubble and stone, and everything else that needed it too.

Then came Neil and Gary and Simon, having travelled non-stop from afar, and hadn’t slept for days on end (well, they HAD been camping) and, with power-tools at the ready – and with aching backs and creaking knees – powered on through failing light to get the “job” done.

And when everyone lay flaked out and spent, young Sarah and Becki and Gemma saw to it that the weary workers were fed, and tea-d and coffee-d. And revived – a bucket of cold water works wonders for the semi-conscious.

Carrying on with superhuman endurance and a railway sleeper perched across each shoulder, a passing Samuel said “Hullo, Boys and Girls! Having a well earned rest? Good!”

“Poor Lambs!” said a cheerful Barbara, tucking an old motorbike of John’s daintily under one arm. “They tire so easily!”

The Jake-dog-thing and the Tom-cat-thing went from person to person at these times, waggy-tailed and purry-smiled, hopeful that they could make a new friend with someone and that they would possibly – possibly – share a titbit of unwanted food with them.

During the day, whenever the phone rang, there was a chorus of “shushes” – everyone loudly hissing everyone else into silence in case the game be given away. Then those people doing the “shushing” had to be “shushed” because they were “shushing” too loudly, and might be heard down the telephone.

Oh! What deceit! What white-lies! As workers froze, statue-like with tools poised mid-air, some cross-eyed as flies perched on tips of noses, fib after fib rolled off Jo’s sweet tongue! (So many new Freedom in Christ appointments she has to make now!)

But the Surprise still stayed a Secret Surprise.

And all this down to that amazing thing called the Jo-thing.

She was everywhere! Organising, lifting, carrying, fixing, cooking, thanking, and doing…all things and every thing, to make this birthday surprise come true.

And then at the very last moment, everything was suddenly done and dusted, and the John-thing was nearly here.

There was a scramble of bodies as everyone hid. Elbows jostled each other as some rushed to be first to hide in the wheelie-bins; some held their breath and jumped into the water butt; others shinned up drain pipes and pressed themselves flat into the guttering and peeped over the edge. The remainder dug holes or lay down and covered themselves in leaves, or hid behind twigs in the fruit tree.

You didn’t see us – but we saw your big smile – and knew you liked it…!”

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