Now, this week has been interesting - visiting the College, we've had a team of archers who are demonstrating the use of a bow and arrow in anger management. Thankfully, the College paid to have them accommodated as there isn't enough room in my hedge for them all, and I've only just buried the magician so I didn't want to tempt fate. I don't have space for any other problematic folk.
And so it came that the Arrow Loosing Ladies in Support of Menopause and Hysteria arrived to help us all with anger. Some of the women were rather hoity toity, but most of them had beards so I fitted in nicely. The Aunts decided to make a family day of it, much to my dismay. Aunt Mary Jaffa (the one terrified of satsumas) turned up with Aunt Bench, who'd had another traumatic week. Apparently, Folly had decided to make a scale version of a WW2 canon, and set it off in the garden. It flattened two of next doors geese. Aunt Vom also managed to wangle her way into the group, although they discouraged her from using the throwing stars and made her leave her mace in the motor car.
We set to practice in a large field, and learned some basic skills for the first half hour. Aunt Mary Jaffa became rather scared and ran into a Victorian outbuilding to hide. She then realised it was an orangery, at which point she cacked herself. The picture above shows her being coaxed out of some shrubbery in a village three miles away. I shot the target, which I was thrilled with, and Aunt Vom shot a Welshman in the thigh (Mr Gwilym Jones shown below after physio). It angered her as she'd not got time to get used to the bow properly, but after another session she scored a bullseye. Sadly, Mr Ioan Llewellyn died. The arrival of the police, however, meant she missed the second half of the day.
One odd thing was an instructor called Professor Incubus Fletch. We didn't take to him at all. His methods of instructing ladies in archery left a great deal to be desired. He seemed to have a fetish for armpits and decided the best way to learn was to cup the armpits of the student while taking aim. The fact that he had ladies clothing on was also a worry, he offered to tell us his life story but luckily the young lady, in the picture below, chinned him before he started speaking. He began to come round after a few minutes, so I gave him a thwack with a plank of wood just to make sure.
Chinnings, arrests, assault and deaths aside, it was a really lovely day. The best thing was, none of us were harbouring any anger by the time we had buns and tea. Aunt Vom, during her single phone call, told me since the incident with the Welshmen, her PMT hadn't bothered her a jot and she sounded in high spirits. I was feeling calmer than I had done in months, no amount of shrieking had such a soothing effect as archery. Aunt Bench said her frustrations with Folly were calmed after the groundsman asked her to stop singing so loudly. It appears Aunt Vom had passed the throwing stars to her when no-one was looking. We've now nicknamed the groundsman 'Spike'.
I can safely say that archery soothes the soul and banishes anger. Never before have a group of hormonally challenged Ladies been out for the day and known such peace and ultimate fulfilment. The only problem is, where to get the supply of targets for next time.....I might be writing invites for the Traffic Wardens Social Club.