Garden shorts
The story of old Mrs Foster, who lived in the village where I was brought up, and who contracted lockjaw whilst cutting her raspberry canes, has remained with me since childhood. This event acquired almost mythic status in my mind, since no one saw fit to enlighten me further. Why would she want to cut her raspberry canes, anyway and, even if she did, why would that give her this unexplained affliction? Was she a gossip, and therefore could this be seen as an improvement? Most importantly, what happened to her? No one ever said.
You would have thought, after this cautionary experience, that I would have have had a healthy respect for tetanus and its mysterious, but obviously baleful, effects. Yet, when I airily enquired of the GP surgery nurse how long it was since I had been given an anti-tetanus injection, she rather less airily replied: ‘Seventeen years. And’ — there was no denying the accusatory tone in her voice — ‘you a gardener, too’. I went home with a sore arm and a chastened spirit, determined that I should never again take the risk of suffering old Mrs Foster’s fate — whatever that had been.
Ursula Buchan
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