WARNING OF MIND ALTERING BLUEBELLS AT OLTON MERE It is a little known fact that bluebells are hallucinogenic and give off a mild gas which causes the brain to imagine things that are just not there. It is a very rare occurrence and is linked to temperature and light. It is thought that it is a means of attracting bees and other pollinating insects to come and visit. An individual bluebell giving of its gas would not normally be noticed by a human, however when there are many bluebells together then the potency of the gas becomes much stronger. This research was published in some respected scientific journals, none of which I am able to lay my hands on right now. The phenomenon may have even been the subject of a David Attenborough documentary. I would have preferred to have had this knowledge before I ventured into the forest of bluebells at Olton Mere this morning. It was a very bright morning and the start of the bank holiday, the sun was glistening of the water and the early frost was melting on the boat covers. Your intrepid reporter was not looking for a story, I was just enjoying the walk with my trusty hounds. As we passed into the woods we were greeted by the most amazing display of bluebells growing up between the ancient trees and dappled light causing shadows to dance around the roots. I noticed that there was a slight haze above the bluebells and subtle, yet quite noticeable, aroma in the still air. Being the inquisitive reporter that I am, I bent down to get a closer appreciation of the aroma and thats when the trouble started. Someone once said that the best way to describe how a dog smells is to compare it to use looking at colour - well thats the best way I can describe the sensation that rushed through my nose and straight into my brain. It can only be described as a rush of blue, all shades, and all depths, just blue, absorbing me and wrapping itself around my neurons and with light blue falling out of my ears. I was snapped out of this blue trance by a large grey leg planting itself somewhere near my head, a second similar leg landed nearby. Standing up slowly and following the grey legs up past a large grey stomach, I realised that I was now face to face with a hippopotamus, standing on its hind legs and possibly smiling. Then it spoke Good morning sir or madam. as if to get my attention, for which it did not need to try, My name is Harold Ignatius Peter Percival Opotamus. he announced and, while holding out a business card, lifted a small bowler hat in a friendly manner. I took his card and it read H.I.P.P.Opotamus, Travelling Cheese Monger. This was new to me. Harold was still standing with his bowler hat lifted as if awaiting a response. I said the only thing that came into my head Ive never met a travelling cheese monger before. Thinking back I do wish I could have asked how Harold managed to hand me a business card and tip his bowler hat without any thumbs. Well said Harold, clearly quite happy that I was there to talk to this is your lucky day. I was not so sure, but I was wasnt going to argue the point. He continued I have some of the finest cheese from around the land, fresh cheddar; ripe red Leicester; single, double and triple Gloucester and for the more discerning customer a goodly wedge of Mexicana at which point he swiftly swapped his bowler hat for a sombrero and for a moment all the trees turned into Cactus plants and singing birds became clattering of maracas and guitars. He then replaced his bowler hat and the world returned to somewhat normal. Perhaps I could tempt Sir or Madam to a spot of finest goats cheese, some say it has been known to give them visions he told me conspiratorially, looking around in case anyone was watching, I call it Trippin Billies. Trying not to offend, I asked timidly Maybe I could try some cheddar?. CHEDDAR boomed Harold as I quivered, the old favourite, but of course He produced a small cheese board, knife and wedge of cheddar that could quite happily stop and aeroplane from taking off. Cutting of a chunk he passed it to me and stared at me expectantly as I sampled it. I cannot deny it was a very fine cheese and I was happy to say so. Harold beamed, well as far as I work out as hippos jaws are not really designed to smile. Excellent he said, shall I put you down for 2 blocks? he offered and Ill throw in a sample of Trippin Billies gratis! Now there was a problem. As wonderful as that sounds I started the thing is, I have no money, Im only here walking my dogs I tried to point in the direction of the hounds and looking around I saw them peering out from behind a tree being as cowardly as I felt. Oh dear, said Harold and he repeated oh dear, oh dear, oh dear each time he said it his voice deepened and his head came closer to mine. The remains of the blue seemed to turn to a dark vicious red, Harolds friendly bowler hat seem to become a mask worn by an executioner. We do have a problem threatened Harold, his face inches from mine. I could smell his breath, a mixture of hot saliva, earthy stick and Pedigree Chum. I closed my eyes in fear of what would happen next. He licked my face. He licked my face once again and now he licked my ears. I opened my eyes to see one of my hounds ready to lick me once more. The other hound was rummaging around in the treat bag. I sat up and looked around, the world was not blue, or red. The trees were normal and there most certainly no hippos masquerading as travelling cheese mongers. The haze over the bluebells had lifted, and getting back to my feet, I finished my walk. I came back to my desk and found out about the mysterious bluebell haze. For future reference, I will be holding my breath going through bluebell fields from now on. Your intrepid reporter, sniffing bluebells so you dont have to.
Posted on: Sat, 03 May 2014 12:00:15 +0000
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