I salute those lost in combat ...

Yesterday, actually the day before yesterday, I wrote that a person's identity is all down to perspective.

Potato, for example, is seen by the Dogs as an angel who's appearance announces the presence of cheese. The cheese, on the other hand, sees Potato as DEATH. Now, I hear you all saying "this chap must be short of material as he only wrote this in his last Journal entry", well let me reassure you that it does have some further relevance to today's scribblings.

As you may be aware, the past few weeks have seen me concentrating on getting the bedroom in a fit state for the Decorators and, as a result, the garden has been somewhat neglected ...

... yesterday I hauled the miserable git of a lawn mower from it's lair and tugged mercilessly on it's starter cord as the lawn was definitely up around my arse and needed hacking back. This is where perspective becomes relevant.

I see the lawn mower as an evil bastard who does a barely adequate job and in it's considerable "down time" does its best to persuade other domestic appliances to perform badly. It has caused me personal injury and has also caused damage to The Pile and I recount the incident of the broken double glazing unit and the resultant bill of £250 as evidence of it's malevolent and malicious practices. I have countless other charges of spilling oil and grass clippings and wrist injuries on file also.

Amnesty International, on the other hand, do not. They see it as a political prisoner who has been incarcerated without trial, had adequate nutrition and medical care withheld and has been forced to perform slave labour. Apparently I am an evil  Despot who's appearance in an international court is long overdue.

Well lets just say that yesterday evening saw a little more fodder for AI's propaganda machine. I got the miserable piece of crap up and running and was pushing it to the lawn when its blade stuck a paving slab. The resulting noise was not one for the mechanically sensitive and when I re-started the beast it didn't sound good. Anything that clunks like that AND has a blade spinning round at several hundred rpm is probably not pushed around the lawn without armoured greaves.

I have therefore decided that this is the final straw and the lawn mower will now be pensioned off to Elysian Fields* and I will finally have a new yellow shiny one like my Dad.

On the work front things are starting to crawl forward and Golfy and I took a trip down to The Village and had a productive brain storming session with Christopher Robin, Judge Dread and a couple of other interested parties. We now have a list of things to do and it is time to start to crack the whip. We have a very busy time ahead of us and already certain Bunnies are being examined to see whether they are up to the job.

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* I'm taking it to the tip where it will be recycled which will involve it being tipped in to a furnace and melted down in to ingots - the hell it deserves. AI can go swivel if they think I'm going to spend one penny on "medical care" for the useless bugger.