A Mere Trifle

"... Its such a shame I have a boyfriend who's more afraid of creepy crawlies than I am" I sighed with a momentary glance towards Greg.

He wasn't taking the bait.

I was hoping to rope him in to de-caterpillaring the gooseberry bush that was under attack in my garden.
Now, I would like to point out that I am not always so scheming, nor always so whimpish. The poor gooseberry bush has now been striped by sawfly caterpillars three years in a row, and every other year I have and squished, and squashed, and pulled them off, devotedly. However, this year the little green and black caterpillars really, really, repel me. I am normally quite fond of caterpillars, (The Hungry Caterpillar being one of my very favourite children's books) but these ones look entirely evil. Or perhaps they only look so evil because I've witnessed their devastating effect on my Gooseberry bush for the last few years. Either way, I didn't fancy facing them again.




The Culprits, truly disgusting? or all in my mind?

"I need someone brave to rescue me from these awful caterpillar's" I continued, dropping all subtly and replacing it with more of a 'damsel in distress' stance.
"OK" said Greg, "I'll try."
And, indeed, he squished, and squashed, and pulled them off, very bravely and did rescue me... and the gooseberry bush.

I am well aware that this may not appear to be the most heroic or romantic story ever told, but to me it is very significant.

I don't like trifles, but Greg does, perhaps I'll thank him with a gooseberry one... when they're ready.