I was thinking recently of one of our best ever holidays, in a chalet on the shores of the Lake of Menteith, in central Scotland. The glass doors opened so close to the water's edge, we would all wander down there with our breakfast in our hands and eat while dabbling our feet in the water. There was even a rowing boat, which we could take out whenever we wanted to.
One beautiful evening, we rowed out round the Isle of Menteith (where Mary Queen of Scots lived as a little girl), and as we brought the boat in, I jumped out and waded through the water to guide it in and tie it up. (Having grown up on the coast, I knew to check for pebbles before doing that, and kept my trainers on.) It was turning cool by then, just time to go back into the chalet, make a hot drink, and watch the changing colours of the sky over the water. I left my trainers on the porch to dry.
It was a wet night, but by the time I went out in the morning the skies were clear and my trainers were dry enough to put on. But my right foot wouldn't go in. I wriggled a bit, and still couldn't get my trainer on, so I thought it might be full of waterweed and looked inside.
It wasn't waterweed that look back at me. It was a very disgruntled little toad, who had only wanted a warm sheltered place to spend the night and wasn't pleased to find five big bony toes coming the other way. I introduced him to the family then released him on the shore, where he lay very still and pretended to be a stone. I wish I could have explained to him that we didn't mean any harm. I wouldn't want any creature to have so close an encounter with my foot.
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2 comments:
That happened to my friend once, except it was a cricket in the in-line skates she kept in her basement. She says you only have to do that once before you always check.
Hee hee! I'm just glad it was something that doesn't bite.
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