Today saw TP's first match at his new rugby club.
We warned him that he was the "new kid" and could not expect to make the starting line up having only attended one training session prior to the game. He was a sub for the first half and his new team managed two tries and one conversion to the opponents solitary try.
The second half started 12:7 in TP's team favour and TP was playing at Left Wing. The opposition kicked off and the ball was heading in TP's direction. He caught it cleanly and headed out towards the half way line. A group of backs converged on TP and he went to the ground passing the ball back to hit new team mates. Nothing spectacular but no mistakes - a solid start.
He had a few good tackles including one that saw his victim leave the ground and fly through the air as TP took him off his legs. Later in the match one of the Props had to go off with a knee injury and TP showed his versatility by moving over to the forwards and played as Hooker for the rest of the match.
Unfortunately TP's team let another couple of tries and a conversion through so the final score was 19: 12. Not a bad first game though and a fair score considering the strength of the opposition.
He can't have been too bad as the head coach "high fived" him after the match - as I said - a good start.
The weather was beautiful today and greatly appreciated after yesterday's damp squib. I took advantage of it and wheeled the Vespa out of the garage for quick spin to blow away the cobwebs. The roads were dry and reasonably clear as I went out through Bidford on Avon through to Stratford and then back in a loop.
The weather has been forecast to be cool and dry this week so hopefully I can get another run or two in before the weather turns. I know that I am a fair weather biker and am not afraid to admit it. There is no fun riding on wet, greasy roads with the added perils of wet leaves, ice etc as Autumn changes to Winter.
I have had my fill of soaking rides through rain and frozen fingers in the ice and snow when a bike was my only form of transport. Mind you, those rides do stick in your mind and you do have a sense of achievement at the end of a ride through disgusting weather. That is the thing about a bike every ride is a journey.
Back home, 30% and I took T&M out for a walk and then I had a quick blast round the lawn with the mower as the grass had finally dried.
Dinner, a glass of wine and a little TV will finish the weekend off nicely.
Showing posts with label Lawn Mowers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lawn Mowers. Show all posts
Sunday, 10 October 2010
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Hiatus
That pretty much summed up the feeling this morning.
We look forward to a week off having both survived a cull and will enjoy the time before we go back in to the fray that is delivery of IT and Network Services to Ingrates.
I woke around 8 and released 20 frustrated chickens who should know by now that I like a bit if a lie in at the weekend. Tyson & Marauder charged around the garden and eventually decided that they would follow the example of the chickens and lay a couple of eggs of their own!
I then retired for a leisurely coffee (Monsoon Malabar) before clambering in the Prius for a run over to my Dad's house. I stopped off for diesel at the nearest petrol station and felt mugged when I had to hand over in excess of £60 for a tank of gas. At 28 - 30 mpg I tend to drive her with a light right foot and with that level of fuel economy diesel need to be bloody cheap for me to consider driving "off route" because it is cheaper elsewhere. Tesco frequently do a 5p off per litre offer when you spend over £50 on groceries. With a 50 litre tank this means that my maximum saving is £2.50. The Prius does about 6 miles to the litre so at 1.25 per litre £2.50 works out at 12 miles of driving. In other words Tesco needs to be on my doorstep to make it worth driving the Prius there to take advantage of the offer.
Now I know that I should drive something more economical but I love her and her ability to consume vast quantities of kids, dogs, animal feed and crap that needs to be taken to the tip. She is also very easy to find in a car park which means that I never have to think about where I've parked her at the zone b, space 23 level - just in the car park near the station.
Right, where was I? Yep - My Dads. He and Step-Mum are off for a week away and I have been trusted to water plants; specifically pots and tomatoes. It was nice to potter round the garden with Dad and pull his leg whilst he was allegedly taking me through my duties. We get on well together and have both reached the stage where we are friends as well as father and son.
With Father away I have a plan. I'm seriously considering nipping out to Halfords for a couple of cans of yellow paint and some body filler. I reckon that with a couple of hours work I can get my lawn mower shiny and yellow. then all I have to do is chuck it in the trailer and take it over to Dads. Swap it out with his new Husquevarna. Job done. He's never going to put me in the frame for it especially with all his tomatoes pert and upright having received more that adequate watering during his week at the sea side. If I'm lucky he might not notice for weeks.
Cue Vincent Price again.
On the subject of Lawn Mowers, 30% is not happy about the terms of my e-Will. I may have to change it with more funds heading in her direction. I have also had to have a word with Potato. You may recall that under my current e-Will Potato and Eddy are trustees of my estate until TP reaches maturity. Potato had plans to invest the funds in the dairy industry specifically in cheese production.
He looked quite upset when I explained that being a Cheese Magnate did not mean that he just lay in the sun and chunks of Cheddar and Edam would be drawn magically towards him. Poor fellow, spelling is not his strong point.
I pointed out that with his feline skills he might be better playing the stock market since shares seem to be a bit like mice. You seem to have to just hang around watching them and only pounce at the right time. On other occasions you seem to have to play with them. Potato lifted his head from licking his bum hole to give this a moments consideration before returning to his ablutions... and people say cats are sophisticated!
Eddy is also not happy about the Trustee arrangement as his shortcomings in the leg department means that the traditional hand in the air voting arrangement will not work in his favour.
As I said I may have to update the e-Will.
We look forward to a week off having both survived a cull and will enjoy the time before we go back in to the fray that is delivery of IT and Network Services to Ingrates.
I woke around 8 and released 20 frustrated chickens who should know by now that I like a bit if a lie in at the weekend. Tyson & Marauder charged around the garden and eventually decided that they would follow the example of the chickens and lay a couple of eggs of their own!
I then retired for a leisurely coffee (Monsoon Malabar) before clambering in the Prius for a run over to my Dad's house. I stopped off for diesel at the nearest petrol station and felt mugged when I had to hand over in excess of £60 for a tank of gas. At 28 - 30 mpg I tend to drive her with a light right foot and with that level of fuel economy diesel need to be bloody cheap for me to consider driving "off route" because it is cheaper elsewhere. Tesco frequently do a 5p off per litre offer when you spend over £50 on groceries. With a 50 litre tank this means that my maximum saving is £2.50. The Prius does about 6 miles to the litre so at 1.25 per litre £2.50 works out at 12 miles of driving. In other words Tesco needs to be on my doorstep to make it worth driving the Prius there to take advantage of the offer.
Now I know that I should drive something more economical but I love her and her ability to consume vast quantities of kids, dogs, animal feed and crap that needs to be taken to the tip. She is also very easy to find in a car park which means that I never have to think about where I've parked her at the zone b, space 23 level - just in the car park near the station.
Right, where was I? Yep - My Dads. He and Step-Mum are off for a week away and I have been trusted to water plants; specifically pots and tomatoes. It was nice to potter round the garden with Dad and pull his leg whilst he was allegedly taking me through my duties. We get on well together and have both reached the stage where we are friends as well as father and son.
With Father away I have a plan. I'm seriously considering nipping out to Halfords for a couple of cans of yellow paint and some body filler. I reckon that with a couple of hours work I can get my lawn mower shiny and yellow. then all I have to do is chuck it in the trailer and take it over to Dads. Swap it out with his new Husquevarna. Job done. He's never going to put me in the frame for it especially with all his tomatoes pert and upright having received more that adequate watering during his week at the sea side. If I'm lucky he might not notice for weeks.
Cue Vincent Price again.
On the subject of Lawn Mowers, 30% is not happy about the terms of my e-Will. I may have to change it with more funds heading in her direction. I have also had to have a word with Potato. You may recall that under my current e-Will Potato and Eddy are trustees of my estate until TP reaches maturity. Potato had plans to invest the funds in the dairy industry specifically in cheese production.
He looked quite upset when I explained that being a Cheese Magnate did not mean that he just lay in the sun and chunks of Cheddar and Edam would be drawn magically towards him. Poor fellow, spelling is not his strong point.
I pointed out that with his feline skills he might be better playing the stock market since shares seem to be a bit like mice. You seem to have to just hang around watching them and only pounce at the right time. On other occasions you seem to have to play with them. Potato lifted his head from licking his bum hole to give this a moments consideration before returning to his ablutions... and people say cats are sophisticated!
Eddy is also not happy about the Trustee arrangement as his shortcomings in the leg department means that the traditional hand in the air voting arrangement will not work in his favour.
As I said I may have to update the e-Will.
Thursday, 20 May 2010
The Power of "No".
30% and TP are catching up on Eastenders and I would rather have open heart surgery while fully conscious than watch it. To be fair it isn't that bad but it is a load of predictable nonsense and its not really my cup of tea.
So here I am jotting down today's musings. Obviously today's BIG THING was the delivery of the Vespa to the Hospital for necessary surgery. Contrary to yesterdays concerns the ambulance journey went without a hitch and we arrived in Cheltenham where the patient was received by one of the Junior Doctors rather than the Consultant.
A gangling youth with a stutter and a pierced lip did not initially give me major feelings of security and confidence but I should not have prejudged. He was right on the ball, had been informed that she was coming in for attention and gave me some of the most natural, good customer service that I have encountered for a long time.
I now await the Consultants opinion, the likely date for discharge from the ward and the bill. I am now in to the realms of serious private medicine!
Work is really ramping up at the moment which is a good thing as I don't like to be kicking my heels but at the same time I am strongly in favour of a work / life balance and I am concerned that if I am not careful the allocation of tasks is going to lead me to tell someone to get stuffed at some point in the near future.
I quite enjoy the power of "No". It amazes me how many people are out there who will, quite literally, sink under a mountain of crap that some git has dumped on them or has ridiculous deadlines set that simply were never feasible because they failed to say "No".
Try it one day, you might like the effect. "Tell me bad man can you do this by Friday?" "No" I answer. "OK" comes the response "I'll see if there is someone else or whether we can defer".
Generally the world doesn't end and you still remain in employment if you say "No". You just have to have a reasonable amount of creative bull shit to back up why you are saying it. I'm sure you are surrounded by lazy sods who seem to do very little other than surf the net and take long lunches.
These guys are zen masters in the art of "No". They are so good that a single look, a raised eye brow or a slight sigh will indicate that they are absolutely "maxxed out" on something so important and complex that the requester doesn't have the mental capacity to even start to understand it.
Learn from them and escape the shaken can of coke feeling that you have at the start of every weekend :-)
Where was I? Hmm Not Sure.
The lawn has been mowed and the mower has again taunted me by starting first time and performing as required. It did, of course, periodically spew clods of macerated grass out on the lawn so that I had to go back and collect them. We are now into that stage of the relationship where nothing is right but nothing is wrong. It just about meets the bare minimum criteria required of a lawn mower in that it cuts grass but it is a noisy beast with dull blades and a bad habit of not collecting all that it cuts. My Dad should never have come round with his Husquvarna porn mag or "brochure" as the retailer euphemistically puts it!
Right - I must go and be a parent and partner so Good Evening.
So here I am jotting down today's musings. Obviously today's BIG THING was the delivery of the Vespa to the Hospital for necessary surgery. Contrary to yesterdays concerns the ambulance journey went without a hitch and we arrived in Cheltenham where the patient was received by one of the Junior Doctors rather than the Consultant.
A gangling youth with a stutter and a pierced lip did not initially give me major feelings of security and confidence but I should not have prejudged. He was right on the ball, had been informed that she was coming in for attention and gave me some of the most natural, good customer service that I have encountered for a long time.
I now await the Consultants opinion, the likely date for discharge from the ward and the bill. I am now in to the realms of serious private medicine!
Work is really ramping up at the moment which is a good thing as I don't like to be kicking my heels but at the same time I am strongly in favour of a work / life balance and I am concerned that if I am not careful the allocation of tasks is going to lead me to tell someone to get stuffed at some point in the near future.
I quite enjoy the power of "No". It amazes me how many people are out there who will, quite literally, sink under a mountain of crap that some git has dumped on them or has ridiculous deadlines set that simply were never feasible because they failed to say "No".
Try it one day, you might like the effect. "Tell me bad man can you do this by Friday?" "No" I answer. "OK" comes the response "I'll see if there is someone else or whether we can defer".
Generally the world doesn't end and you still remain in employment if you say "No". You just have to have a reasonable amount of creative bull shit to back up why you are saying it. I'm sure you are surrounded by lazy sods who seem to do very little other than surf the net and take long lunches.
These guys are zen masters in the art of "No". They are so good that a single look, a raised eye brow or a slight sigh will indicate that they are absolutely "maxxed out" on something so important and complex that the requester doesn't have the mental capacity to even start to understand it.
Learn from them and escape the shaken can of coke feeling that you have at the start of every weekend :-)
Where was I? Hmm Not Sure.
The lawn has been mowed and the mower has again taunted me by starting first time and performing as required. It did, of course, periodically spew clods of macerated grass out on the lawn so that I had to go back and collect them. We are now into that stage of the relationship where nothing is right but nothing is wrong. It just about meets the bare minimum criteria required of a lawn mower in that it cuts grass but it is a noisy beast with dull blades and a bad habit of not collecting all that it cuts. My Dad should never have come round with his Husquvarna porn mag or "brochure" as the retailer euphemistically puts it!
Right - I must go and be a parent and partner so Good Evening.
Thursday, 13 May 2010
They're not happy!
I have just had a memo from the Guys in the Lab.
Apparently the quantum monkey is/isn't in its cage and it is/isn't widdling in the giraffe DNA sequencer. They are starting to get on their high horses about this and it has gone well beyond mutterings along the lines of "how are we supposed to work under these conditions".
One of the more politically adept of the team is claiming that this is a new branch of science that proves that Monkeys may not be fundamentally funny and wants to make a grant submission and start developing an outline for a paper.
P45 time - I think. THEY WILL BEND TO MY TRUE WILL.
Talking of Wills, I also have to submit a codicil to yesterday's "e-Will"...
.... If none of my surviving descendants want it it the lawn mower should be passed to Golfy provided that he cares for it according to the guidelines that have recently been set out by Amnesty International.
There may be more later.
Apparently the quantum monkey is/isn't in its cage and it is/isn't widdling in the giraffe DNA sequencer. They are starting to get on their high horses about this and it has gone well beyond mutterings along the lines of "how are we supposed to work under these conditions".
One of the more politically adept of the team is claiming that this is a new branch of science that proves that Monkeys may not be fundamentally funny and wants to make a grant submission and start developing an outline for a paper.
P45 time - I think. THEY WILL BEND TO MY TRUE WILL.
Talking of Wills, I also have to submit a codicil to yesterday's "e-Will"...
.... If none of my surviving descendants want it it the lawn mower should be passed to Golfy provided that he cares for it according to the guidelines that have recently been set out by Amnesty International.
There may be more later.
Tuesday, 4 May 2010
The e-mail generation
Today started with a degree of Mnghh!
Its that feeling that is neither apprehension nor dread, Neither reluctance nor disinclination but a feeling of mild aversion combined with a knowledge that there are things that must be done.
Basically there is something that I have been assigned by one of the Lesser Demons down at Dante's. I have done the necessary thinking about it and I've even knocked up a couple of sketches but I now need to document it formally and send out to vaguely disinterested parties.
Hence today started with a degree of Mnghh!
I wish my day started like Marauder's seem to start. Marauder loves her bed and she likes to wake slowly. She will spend several minutes just squirming with the delight of being a dog and knowing that today is going to be pretty much exactly like yesterday. You can see a grin appear on her face and she positively wriggles as she realises that the agenda includes playing with Sell-by-Date and Tyson, threatening behaviour towards the chickens, chasing TP, eating a variety of delicacies including horse shit and possibly chicken feathers, a nice long walk during the bad man's lunch break followed by a number of naps including at least one on the premium spot on her favourite sofa.
Her expression shows that her world really cant get any better. I wish I felt like that when I wake up.
Now don't get me wrong, I tend to wake and feel pretty good about my world. But compared to Marauder I am a rank amateur about feeling good. She makes the happy people that you see in the world of TV advertising - You know the ones - unbelievably smug and happy and cheesy - seem positively suicidal - She really knows how to start the day feeling GOOD.
Before today's activities a quick review of yesterday. It went well. A few pints of homemade Pea and Ham soup are now residing in the freezer and there is enough of the garage floor clear to warrant sweeping it. In fact, there was enough space that TP's bike was upended had it's puncture repaired.
This evening has seen TP and I load up the "eco wagon" or "Prius" as she will be known and take a visit to the local Refuse Site thus opening up a whole new swathe of garage floor.
I am hoping that this improvement in the condition of the lawn mower's quarters will get Amnesty International off my back. I have replied to their letter advising that it is not "incarceration without trial" but "protective custody" as the village newsletter has indicated an upturn in the number of shed thefts. Their initial response is not encouraging !
Right - I'm getting to the e-mail generation but I needed a bit of padding before I started on them. Don't worry - all will become apparent in a minute.
As I said, the day started with a feeling of Mnghh but I knuckled down and turned my sketches in to clear illustrations, embedded them in to an e-mail with concise but informative thoughts and dispatched it to the appropriate recipients / victims.
As is generally the case, it went a whole lot better than expected and I again wondered why it is human nature to procrastinate.
Anyway this leads me to my classification of certain people as "the e-mail generation". They can be defined as individuals who are generally under the age of 35 and consequently have grown up with computers in general and e-mail in particular.
The phrase e-mail generation sums up their capacity to take in information. Basically if it cannot be presented in the preview panel of an e-mail application then don't bother. They don't have the mental capacity to take in anything that cannot be described in a couple of sentences. Forget paragraphs or embedded documents. these references will cause paralysis of the mouse hand and a complete inability to use the scroll bars or the little wheel that they now install on mouses.
The reason I cover the subject referenced in the title of this blog so late in the text is because the e-mail generation will have gone away to gaze at their navels on Facebook or MySpace by now.
My role in Dante's Nine Circles of Hell involves quite complex technical elements and often you need to write several pages with cross references and diagrams to get the full picture across. So you can imagine how bloody frustrated I get when a member of the e-mail generation wants a chat about it but isn't willing to engage any mental gears because their thought capacities are filled with the need to change their relationship status on Facebook and their work related plans for a whole new circle of Hell.
I have had situations where I have had to read documents to people and I'm sure they are not illiterate - bone idle - but not illiterate.
Anyway - my impact analysis was issued and one of the recipients has actually read it and agreed with my logic - a whoohoo moment. Unfortunately the actual "Doers" have not bothered to respond yet and I have a feeling of dread as my ability to look in to the future kicks in and I see several conference calls repeatedly explaining the complex to the e-mail generation.
Its that feeling that is neither apprehension nor dread, Neither reluctance nor disinclination but a feeling of mild aversion combined with a knowledge that there are things that must be done.
Basically there is something that I have been assigned by one of the Lesser Demons down at Dante's. I have done the necessary thinking about it and I've even knocked up a couple of sketches but I now need to document it formally and send out to vaguely disinterested parties.
Hence today started with a degree of Mnghh!
I wish my day started like Marauder's seem to start. Marauder loves her bed and she likes to wake slowly. She will spend several minutes just squirming with the delight of being a dog and knowing that today is going to be pretty much exactly like yesterday. You can see a grin appear on her face and she positively wriggles as she realises that the agenda includes playing with Sell-by-Date and Tyson, threatening behaviour towards the chickens, chasing TP, eating a variety of delicacies including horse shit and possibly chicken feathers, a nice long walk during the bad man's lunch break followed by a number of naps including at least one on the premium spot on her favourite sofa.
Her expression shows that her world really cant get any better. I wish I felt like that when I wake up.
Now don't get me wrong, I tend to wake and feel pretty good about my world. But compared to Marauder I am a rank amateur about feeling good. She makes the happy people that you see in the world of TV advertising - You know the ones - unbelievably smug and happy and cheesy - seem positively suicidal - She really knows how to start the day feeling GOOD.
Before today's activities a quick review of yesterday. It went well. A few pints of homemade Pea and Ham soup are now residing in the freezer and there is enough of the garage floor clear to warrant sweeping it. In fact, there was enough space that TP's bike was upended had it's puncture repaired.
This evening has seen TP and I load up the "eco wagon" or "Prius" as she will be known and take a visit to the local Refuse Site thus opening up a whole new swathe of garage floor.
I am hoping that this improvement in the condition of the lawn mower's quarters will get Amnesty International off my back. I have replied to their letter advising that it is not "incarceration without trial" but "protective custody" as the village newsletter has indicated an upturn in the number of shed thefts. Their initial response is not encouraging !
Right - I'm getting to the e-mail generation but I needed a bit of padding before I started on them. Don't worry - all will become apparent in a minute.
As I said, the day started with a feeling of Mnghh but I knuckled down and turned my sketches in to clear illustrations, embedded them in to an e-mail with concise but informative thoughts and dispatched it to the appropriate recipients / victims.
As is generally the case, it went a whole lot better than expected and I again wondered why it is human nature to procrastinate.
Anyway this leads me to my classification of certain people as "the e-mail generation". They can be defined as individuals who are generally under the age of 35 and consequently have grown up with computers in general and e-mail in particular.
The phrase e-mail generation sums up their capacity to take in information. Basically if it cannot be presented in the preview panel of an e-mail application then don't bother. They don't have the mental capacity to take in anything that cannot be described in a couple of sentences. Forget paragraphs or embedded documents. these references will cause paralysis of the mouse hand and a complete inability to use the scroll bars or the little wheel that they now install on mouses.
The reason I cover the subject referenced in the title of this blog so late in the text is because the e-mail generation will have gone away to gaze at their navels on Facebook or MySpace by now.
My role in Dante's Nine Circles of Hell involves quite complex technical elements and often you need to write several pages with cross references and diagrams to get the full picture across. So you can imagine how bloody frustrated I get when a member of the e-mail generation wants a chat about it but isn't willing to engage any mental gears because their thought capacities are filled with the need to change their relationship status on Facebook and their work related plans for a whole new circle of Hell.
I have had situations where I have had to read documents to people and I'm sure they are not illiterate - bone idle - but not illiterate.
Anyway - my impact analysis was issued and one of the recipients has actually read it and agreed with my logic - a whoohoo moment. Unfortunately the actual "Doers" have not bothered to respond yet and I have a feeling of dread as my ability to look in to the future kicks in and I see several conference calls repeatedly explaining the complex to the e-mail generation.
Saturday, 1 May 2010
I think the Toner is running out.
Saturday Morning, the start of a long weekend.
Its funny how you feel differently about a day when you get up at a time of your own choice rather than a time dictated by Dante's Nine Circles of Hell or the need to prepare TPs lunchbox before the School Bus leaves. Everything is much more mellow when you are in control of the agenda.
My morning routine is pretty similar whether it is a School Day or a holiday with the exception of making aforementioned packed lunch. I still have to let Tyson and Marauder out, feed and water the chickens and pour a number of double espressos down my neck.
It is odd though that Potato and Eddy also know it is Saturday and are having a lie-in too. Normally Potato is most insistent that I, as Domestic Staff, serve his breakfast before I do anything else in the morning. Today however they are both curled up together and have indicated that I can bring up the papers (ironed of course) and coffee an hour later than usual.
I should point out that Sell-by-date, now in his dotage, is not an early riser and usually waits until around 11 before indicating that he needs to go out and empty his bowels. He is a martyr to his bowels and if you are stupid enough to wade in to a conversation with him about them don't say I didn't warn you. You should know the warning signs by now since you must have as many aged relatives as I do - Ones who have lost all inhibitions and lack anything remotely interesting in their life so will tell you about polyps and unnatural secretions. RUN AWAY!
A true story - A few weeks back I was walking Tyson and Marauder and I bumped in to a fellow dog walker. I know her well enough to chat to and have recently learnt her name having known her dogs' names for much longer. This is the way of dog walking that it is often that you know someone by their dog's name!
Anyway, I asked her how she was as I hadn't seen her for a while and she told me that she hadn't been walking recently as a result of having her haemorrhoids removed - FOR GODS SAKE! I hardly know the woman and she is talking about her Bum Grapes. Puts fingers in ears and sings La, La, La!
Where was I - Saturday Morning - now that I have constructed the Maginot Line T& M can assist when I let the chickens out. They carry out the morning patrol of the coops with great enthusiasm and prowl the runs like Camp Guards looking for the entrances to "Tom, Dick & Harry". I thought I had heard the chink of an enamel mug against a bed frame a couple of times recently but its probably my mind playing tricks.
I collected the eggs and found this .....
Its funny how you feel differently about a day when you get up at a time of your own choice rather than a time dictated by Dante's Nine Circles of Hell or the need to prepare TPs lunchbox before the School Bus leaves. Everything is much more mellow when you are in control of the agenda.
My morning routine is pretty similar whether it is a School Day or a holiday with the exception of making aforementioned packed lunch. I still have to let Tyson and Marauder out, feed and water the chickens and pour a number of double espressos down my neck.
It is odd though that Potato and Eddy also know it is Saturday and are having a lie-in too. Normally Potato is most insistent that I, as Domestic Staff, serve his breakfast before I do anything else in the morning. Today however they are both curled up together and have indicated that I can bring up the papers (ironed of course) and coffee an hour later than usual.
I should point out that Sell-by-date, now in his dotage, is not an early riser and usually waits until around 11 before indicating that he needs to go out and empty his bowels. He is a martyr to his bowels and if you are stupid enough to wade in to a conversation with him about them don't say I didn't warn you. You should know the warning signs by now since you must have as many aged relatives as I do - Ones who have lost all inhibitions and lack anything remotely interesting in their life so will tell you about polyps and unnatural secretions. RUN AWAY!
A true story - A few weeks back I was walking Tyson and Marauder and I bumped in to a fellow dog walker. I know her well enough to chat to and have recently learnt her name having known her dogs' names for much longer. This is the way of dog walking that it is often that you know someone by their dog's name!
Anyway, I asked her how she was as I hadn't seen her for a while and she told me that she hadn't been walking recently as a result of having her haemorrhoids removed - FOR GODS SAKE! I hardly know the woman and she is talking about her Bum Grapes. Puts fingers in ears and sings La, La, La!
Where was I - Saturday Morning - now that I have constructed the Maginot Line T& M can assist when I let the chickens out. They carry out the morning patrol of the coops with great enthusiasm and prowl the runs like Camp Guards looking for the entrances to "Tom, Dick & Harry". I thought I had heard the chink of an enamel mug against a bed frame a couple of times recently but its probably my mind playing tricks.
I collected the eggs and found this .....
...... Looks like one of the hens is running low on ink. I'm sure I reset the egg count when I did the last install but cant remember seeing a "Low Ink alert" recently. Good job we are off in to town this morning as egg receipts are going to be down this week with produce looking like this.
Now what type of toner cartridge does a chicken take and can I persuade 30% to install it?
Postie came - usual stuff - bills, election pamphlets and a letter from Amnesty International. Apparently the readership of this blog is broader than I thought and they are gravely concerned about the plight of the lawn mower. Apparently I am guilty of incarceration without trial, enforced labour and failure to adequately meet it's nutritional and health care needs.
Its a good job they don't know what happened to the Strimmer!
Thursday, 22 April 2010
Spring
Forget all the vernal equinox versus the 1st April debates. Here at the "Pile" Spring arrives when I finally drag the mower out from its lair and use it with menace on the lawn.
Lets start with the mower. I like mowing the lawn - its not particularly taxing and the lawn isn't huge so its quite a pleasant way to spend 30 minutes or so on a sunny evening.
However, I don't like the mower it is an oily, smelly, noisy beast that coughs and splutters BUT WILL NOT DIE. My Dad has a beautiful mower that gleams and purrs and cuts beautiful stripes in his lawn. Last year mine kicked out a stone in a fit of pique that shattered one of our windows and I ended up forking out over £200 for a new double glazed unit. See, it hates me - why cant it be a perfect garden companion like my Dads?
Because I hate it. I neglect it. I don't have it serviced. I don't change its spark plug. I barely keep the sump topped up with oil. I certainly don't remove the accumulated grass and oil its chassis. BUT IT WILL NOT DIE. I just want it to fail so I can go to the DIY store and get a new one like my Dads.
Yesterday evening was its first outing of the year - hence the official beginning of Spring. I dragged the beast from its lair where it had been tipped on its side so that other junk could be crammed in there with it. I believe that piling rubbish on it over the winter ensures that it understands my loathing of it. To get me back for this poor treatment over the long winter months it slowly oozes the contents of its sump via the piston rings up in to the cylinder. A consequence of this is that I then need to remove the plug, clean it and then pull the starter cord several times to expel the oil from the cylinder - remember O Level Physics - You can't compress a liquid so pulling the started cord with a cylinder full of oil ain't gonna happen.
I dutifully performed these actions and then primed the carb and tugged that the starter cord. The beast decided that it would take revenge and gave a mean kick-back hence I type this with very sore fingers this morning.
Having taken revenge it then starts, fills the garden with an oily smoke and performs perfectly for the first run out of the year.
It is a love/hate relationship. I hate the mower and it loves the fact that I hate it. Hence IT WILL NOT DIE and allow me to go and get a new one like my Dads.
There is however a glimmer of hope, during the starting escapade I noticed a rust spot, quite a large one, on the chassis. Like a teenager with a zit I probed and picked and a hole appeared. MAYBE THE END IS CLOSER THAN I THINK.
Now to the lawn. Over the winter the lawn has been abused by three dogs and a trio of Light Sussex. I see a trip down to the garden centre in the next week or so for a couple of rolls of turf as surgery will be required in a few places. I find a freshly mown lawn a pleasing sight and the impact of three dogs and the occasional chicken means that some degree of Groundsman type activities are required each Spring. I may well offer the Guys at Wembley the benefit of my experience 'cos the state my lawn gets in to over winter makes their job look like a walk in the park.
While on the subject of Spring - the increasing day length means that the aging poultry flock have finally gotten off their perches and decided to pay me back for the vast quantity of food that I give them. For those unaware, a chicken only lays when there is more than about 10 hours of daylight which is why commercial birds have artificial light. They also lay less as they get older. My lot are definitely not Spring Chickens so generally can't be bothered to do much before the middle of March.
Egg production is now the order of the day and I take the odd box in to colleagues in the Nine Circles of Hell and the other 30% does quite a trade at her place of work. I now have quite a quantity of small eggs and it seems a bit mean to sell them so I'll be pickling eggs at the weekend. I absolutely love pickled eggs and they are nothing like those white blobs floating in cloudy, detritus filled liquor at the chip shop. Simply hard boil a few, shell them and put them in a clean jar with a 50:50 mix of malt and pickling vinegar and shut away for about 6 weeks. Then open and enjoy.
Oh Dear - it just went a bit Nigella there for a moment - apologies.
Lets start with the mower. I like mowing the lawn - its not particularly taxing and the lawn isn't huge so its quite a pleasant way to spend 30 minutes or so on a sunny evening.
However, I don't like the mower it is an oily, smelly, noisy beast that coughs and splutters BUT WILL NOT DIE. My Dad has a beautiful mower that gleams and purrs and cuts beautiful stripes in his lawn. Last year mine kicked out a stone in a fit of pique that shattered one of our windows and I ended up forking out over £200 for a new double glazed unit. See, it hates me - why cant it be a perfect garden companion like my Dads?
Because I hate it. I neglect it. I don't have it serviced. I don't change its spark plug. I barely keep the sump topped up with oil. I certainly don't remove the accumulated grass and oil its chassis. BUT IT WILL NOT DIE. I just want it to fail so I can go to the DIY store and get a new one like my Dads.
Yesterday evening was its first outing of the year - hence the official beginning of Spring. I dragged the beast from its lair where it had been tipped on its side so that other junk could be crammed in there with it. I believe that piling rubbish on it over the winter ensures that it understands my loathing of it. To get me back for this poor treatment over the long winter months it slowly oozes the contents of its sump via the piston rings up in to the cylinder. A consequence of this is that I then need to remove the plug, clean it and then pull the starter cord several times to expel the oil from the cylinder - remember O Level Physics - You can't compress a liquid so pulling the started cord with a cylinder full of oil ain't gonna happen.
I dutifully performed these actions and then primed the carb and tugged that the starter cord. The beast decided that it would take revenge and gave a mean kick-back hence I type this with very sore fingers this morning.
Having taken revenge it then starts, fills the garden with an oily smoke and performs perfectly for the first run out of the year.
It is a love/hate relationship. I hate the mower and it loves the fact that I hate it. Hence IT WILL NOT DIE and allow me to go and get a new one like my Dads.
There is however a glimmer of hope, during the starting escapade I noticed a rust spot, quite a large one, on the chassis. Like a teenager with a zit I probed and picked and a hole appeared. MAYBE THE END IS CLOSER THAN I THINK.
Now to the lawn. Over the winter the lawn has been abused by three dogs and a trio of Light Sussex. I see a trip down to the garden centre in the next week or so for a couple of rolls of turf as surgery will be required in a few places. I find a freshly mown lawn a pleasing sight and the impact of three dogs and the occasional chicken means that some degree of Groundsman type activities are required each Spring. I may well offer the Guys at Wembley the benefit of my experience 'cos the state my lawn gets in to over winter makes their job look like a walk in the park.
While on the subject of Spring - the increasing day length means that the aging poultry flock have finally gotten off their perches and decided to pay me back for the vast quantity of food that I give them. For those unaware, a chicken only lays when there is more than about 10 hours of daylight which is why commercial birds have artificial light. They also lay less as they get older. My lot are definitely not Spring Chickens so generally can't be bothered to do much before the middle of March.
Egg production is now the order of the day and I take the odd box in to colleagues in the Nine Circles of Hell and the other 30% does quite a trade at her place of work. I now have quite a quantity of small eggs and it seems a bit mean to sell them so I'll be pickling eggs at the weekend. I absolutely love pickled eggs and they are nothing like those white blobs floating in cloudy, detritus filled liquor at the chip shop. Simply hard boil a few, shell them and put them in a clean jar with a 50:50 mix of malt and pickling vinegar and shut away for about 6 weeks. Then open and enjoy.
Oh Dear - it just went a bit Nigella there for a moment - apologies.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
