Foxgloves and Flycatchers

We decided to change/upgrade our broadband provider. I'd been considering it for quite a while so when the pleasant young chap from Fibrus turned up on the doorstep we decided to take the plunge. The only issue was, there was a bit of a waiting list and it might be a month before the engineers could get around to us. Not a problem. We were content to wait. The big day arrived, and the trucks rolled into the yard bright and early. They poked around for a while, established where all the important points were, headed down the lane for a look-see, headed back up again, knocked the door and said,

Bit of a problem . That's a fast road down there.

I could only agree.

60 mph road. Someone should have come out, carried out an assessment. We'll need traffic management lights.

What could I say? It is a fast road. Stupidly fast. In my opinion, there is no need for anyone to drive at 60mph on a B road. Excepting ambulances, fire engines and, at a pinch, police vehicles on emergency calls. Not dickhead boy and girl racers or farmer's wives on the school run.

I agreed it wouldn't be safe for them and waved them on their way.

We'll reschedule, they said.

Weeks passed, many weeks. I had to phone the company. Eventually, another date was arranged, a month hence.

The big day arrived. The truck rolled into the yard. They made themselves known, said they had to wait for the traffic management guys. They hoked about, found the points, made friends with the dogs, had to get a look into the shepherd's hut. Said they might have to drill a hole through the front of the house. I didn't like the sound of that, indicated the spotted flycatcher's nest above the front door and said that on no account were the birds to be disturbed. For some reason, the one with the lip ring found this amusing. He said,

What are they? Robins?

I suspect he might have been one of those people who think that all small birds must be some class of robin. He was from Dungannon and it has been my experience that people from that part of Tyrone have a disregard for nature. I have never forgiven the contractors from Omagh who, when the Housing Excecutive were replacing the fences in Ballykeel 2, laughed at me when I complained that they were trampling on my foxgloves. It might have been over thirty years ago but I can still see the face of the fat troll who joshed,

Sure them oul things grow in the ditches where we come from!

Bert was able to explain to the fellows that there would be no need for drilling holes as there was a conduit (whatever that is) that made it unnecessary. While this was being discussed a spotted flycatcher flew over our heads on its way to the nest.

So - did we get our superfast broadband? No, we did not. The farmer's wives and the boy/girl racers had to cool their heels at the traffic lights while the engineers investigated the roadside points. Then the door knocked. It was the one with the lip ring.

We can't do it.

Why not?

Too much mud. We'll have to wait until Road Services clear the drains. 

Town folk get broadband sorted out just like that. No need for traffic lights, and no mud. Everything is fine and dandy. But I don't even care for I've got spotted flycatchers. And foxgloves growing everywhere. 

DISCLAIMER: In this blog post I have, with tongue firmly in cheek, suggested that people in parts of County Tyrone do not care for, or appreciate the natural world. Obviously, I don't really believe this.  My maternal grandparents came from Tyrone and despite having relocated to Belfast in childhood, they couldn't wait to get back to country living and whilst there instilled in my mother a deep love and respect for nature.