Ambush

Yesterday’s corner time: 3 Minutes.

Dad mostly works form home, travelling into the office one or two days every week.

Yesterday, he arrived home slightly earlier than usual with a graze above his left eye. After much interrogation, he eventually explained how he had received his injury. It appears that a new and rather large potted plant had been placed in a corridor where previously there had been none.

As he doesn’t venture into his office that frequently, this new herbaceous obstacle had caught Dad rather by surprise. He claims that he didn’t, in fact, walk into the plant but that it had instead, leapt out from behind a filing cabinet and ambushed him. However, I wasn’t convinced.

Dad maintained that this was the true course of events leading to his grazed forehead and went on to explain that the term “ambushed” originally meant “one who is attacked by a shrub”.

Hmm, that sounded more plausible. Perhaps, he was telling the truth after all.

I’m now a bit worried about going out into the garden, in case I’m ambushed. I’ve whacked hell out of most of the trees with my sword, so I’m probably due some payback.

Matthew.