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Our local wombles

Our local wombles

Wombless are creatures of collective habit, who recycle that which other

creatures no-longer want.

H and J are two such creatures they collect discarded objects that are generally

considered to be rubbish, there the similarity ends, but the title still remains.

Their activities are always conducted in a nocturnal manner each night at 11:45pm

the wombles prepare to venture forth.

Firstly the clothing is donned... this forms an important part of the ritual,

On the head of each goes a woollen hat, a hole either side of the head allows the ears to

be free, the hat is tied under the chin.

The reason for the ears freedom is that like all nocturnal creatures good hearing is vital,

next a jumper approximately 3 sizes larger then normally required, the waist tied with string

this serves two purposes, one to confine the obvious bell tent qualities, and two to enable the carrying of

collected objects, thus leaving the hands free.

Next the lower half is enveloped in oversized trousers, again brought into the waist with string and secured

at the ankles with gaiters leaving the hands free for larger objects to awkward to be carried under clothes

to complete the ensemble gloves and rubber boots are also a must.

This rather strangely attired duo are then seen making their way out of town pushing a wheel barrow

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(for heavier objects) and looking for all the world like two badly tied rucksacks on legs.

Where you may ask are two such unlikely characters headed ?, the answer is the local rubbish

dump.... where the items may with diligent searching be found.

The objects themselves are a variety of cast offs, such as furniture, makeup, object-d-art in fact anything that may be useful or decorative , these  materials are used mainly to decorate their abode, a residence resplendent in it’s variety of  contents.

Now, not all rubbish tips contain useful items, other things can be found with equal ease, such as plastics bottles, rotting vegetation ( although if you are a gardening womble ..........) and dead cats.

Talking of dead cats, while out foraging one night J dived down into a giant skip and with a whoop of joy emerged wearing a fur stole.

H responding to the joyous cry immediately shone the torch ( another must when wombling ) to admire the prize.

This was not the imagined object of desire.........Imagine the scene J standing there outside the skip with a smile of pure delight and triumph, H with a look of abject horror, this was not a fur stole, it was in fact a dead cat !!!

At certain times of the year the wombles activities are not confined to rubbish tips, they are also gatherers of harvest fruits, for the call of fresh corn will sing to them.

The corn stood upright and beckoned to the wombles, however the field was on the other side of the river, and the only way across the river was the disused gas pipe.

H and J were never ones to run from a challenge, J stood on the bank shining the torch while H crossed the pipe, fell in and discovered another advantage to the rather voluminous clothing you float !

J on the other hand found a disadvantage, on trying to follow H, J found running to be akin to doing the 106 yds in flippers, backwards .

So grabbing a life belt (without string) hanging nearby for just such an emergency, J threw it to H who pulling it over her head got it well and truly stuck.

The river being slow and fairly shallow enabled H to waddle ashore, where repeated attempts to remove the life belt proved useless and as the local hospital was only a few minutes walk away our intrepid wombles made for there to ensure release for H.

They arrived at the hospital with J leading H looking for all the world  like a cross between a semi drowned hippo and an ostrich which forgot to leave the hole behind and sounding like a group of muzzled children playing in a vat of jelly.

This needless to say caused a vast amount of amusement both to the hospital staff, several of which were doctors attracted by the unlikely rumours, and members of the public awaiting attention.

The laughter eventually died to a controlled snigger and with a great deal of tugging from both ends H was freed from the offending ring.

The staff, generous to a fault, asked if they would like to take the life belt home.

Dispite the attempted river crossing our local wombles are still wombling.

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