R & R

Rest and recuperation.

I haven't mentioned the brave members of the Arachnid Special Forces for a while but I think its time to give you an update. They appear to have been on an extended period of R&R and possibly a further "R". In this instance the extra "r" stands for reproduction ....

.... one of my walks takes me across a piece of relatively unimproved pasture. Parts of the field are grazed and mown for silage but a reasonable chunk of the meadow is on a steep slope and is left for the rabbits. It's a lovely area of wild flowers and so steep that you tend to pause to take in the view whilst you catch your breath.

Today I noticed a quite amazing structure in the grasses. In fact, I noticed several. On the side of the hill adjacent to my path there were several small Spider Gazebos. At a height of about 10 inches from ground level about six or eight grass stems had been pulled together and held fast with spider silk. This living teepee frame had then been covered with a sheet of the finest web to form a cover and there inside this Spider Tent, suspended at the apex was a pea sized egg cluster, again shrouded in silk.

It may be a Nursery Web Spider (Pisaura mirabilis) but I am far from an expert just fascinated to see these delicate little structures amongst the grasses.

A brief mention from Pedants corner - it should be noted that I have referred to these shelters as teepees and not wigwams because the two are entirely different types of shelter and not synonymous as many think.

Olga, Where are you when we need you?

You may remember that yesterday I suggested a new sport for the 2012 Olympics - on/off road dog boarding. Its got a lot of potential but it got me thinking as I perambulated round the lanes this evening.

How hard can modern rhythmic gymnastics really be?

You've seen them. The girl with the ribbon on the end of the stick, the one with the ball. As Tyson and Marauder charged about on their extending leads dashing from one side to the other enticed by a variety of rural scents and equine presents I was performing a merry dance to make sure that they did not get tangled.

And that's when it hit me. Modern Rhythmic Gymnastics is all about years of dedication, intense training, performance enhancing drugs, synthetic hormones to defer sexual maturity and a lot of shouting from a Communist "Woman" who is harder than your Dad.

There's no reaction or spontaneity and there is only one sticky ribbon thingy - give 'em a couple of Staffies on extending leads with a load of rural odours permeating the mats and lets see how bloody artistic they are then.

Anyway, where was I going to?

Yesterday I wittered on about stuff including the Prius and the Vespa so today I thought I'd continue mining that vein.

Before I do that though I need to mention a (or possibly "the") reader who has contacted me directly about members of the Arachnid Special Forces. Apparently she claims to have given several members of this Secret Service blow jobs. Now before you start conjuring up images of Sean Connery reclining with a foxy vixen who is about to switch political allegiances - THINK AGAIN! This heinous individual uses the hoover to eliminate Agents of ASF. I think my stand point on Spy ders is pretty clear - embrace them, name them, encourage them in to your family for, and I'm guessing here, all they do is study us in the way we tend to study other species on planet Earth. Imagine the Spy der Discovery Channel - you could be the subject of "How Other Species Reproduce"

Right - sorry - back to the Prius......

Many, many years ago I used to work for an enlightened employer. Enlightened in the way that an 18 year old with Daddy's Gold Card is enlightened. So when they decided to give me a company car I looked at my month allowance and said "Your Kidding" and logged straight on to the BMW web site. I now work down at Dante's Nine Circles of Hell and, funnily enough, when I looked at my company car allowance I said exactly the same thing and then Googled the performance stats of a Kia Cee'd.

To cut a long story short I eventually decided to take the cash and invest in the Prius. Now the Prius may not be the most economical vehicle on the planet but I justify it to my Green Ideals by pointing out that a new 3 Series is going to have one hell of a carbon footprint when it rolls off the line plus the fact that I frequently work from home thereby avoiding a 40+ mile round trip. At this rate, if I save any more carbon, we'll be in to another Ice Age.

Also, buying a second hand car is recycling. The more I think about this the more the huge amount of snow in January starts to make sense. I'm starting to think that if my personal impact on reducing global warming increases further I will have to have a chat with the Guys in the Lab about recreating the Mammoth as well as the Shetland Giraffe.

So I went and bought myself a used Prius and I love it. Now I'm guessing that these words have never been assembled in that order in a single sentence before. Yep a first in the bad man's journal.

Remember that I have a penchant for aliases and mild irony. It isn't a Prius. After all who would want to drive a car that may accelerate wildly without warning. That's one hell of a User Notice to have engraved across the steering wheel and makes the "objects in the mirror may be closer than they appear" seem a perfectly understandable piece of advice.

My choice of vehicle - I'll leave you to guess. It is immensely practical, it is not conventionally beautiful but it has a certain presence. It could be described as utilitarian and the kids seem to love it...

..... its a Mr Whippy Ice Cream Van.

The Shetland Giraffe

An absolutely huge Spider is taking a sojourn in the Kitchen sink this morning. He is not the size of a dinner plate - not unless you happen to be a greedy Borrower - in which case you will probably be off to get your Darning Needle sword in case he comes round your house next, but he is BIG.

I like Spiders. Picking up on a thread from yesterday they are also a bit Ninja the way they scuttle across the floor on whatever mission they have from Arachnid HQ. I like the way they lurk in corners - obviously surveillance - for months on end. Talk about going deep under cover - very sophisticated.

These are not missions without risk. A lot of these guys and girls are caught by the enemy and the treatment they get is straight from the CIA "Bumper Book of Interrogation Methods, Fully Illustrated, Pop Up Edition". Hurled from 2nd floor windows, flushed down WCs, or given a terminal beating with a tea towel.

Lets stop and take a few moments to remember the fallen.

I hope that somewhere there is an Arachnid Forces Garden of Remembrance where Incy Wincy's name is forever engraved on an imposing granite slab. Don't forget Charlotte too. She was a civilian but she gave everything to save the life of an innocent piglet. And, of course, the Nameless ones!

Here at The Pile they are tolerated, but it was not always the case. When 30% and I first met she was not keen on Spiders. She wasn't the type to scream in the style of a 50s Silver Screen Angel ......




..... but it is fair to say that she definitely wasn't keen.

Early in our relationship a young Spy der (its not clever - its just coincidence again) had taken up his first mission in her bedroom. He was keen and in very good shape. He had a lot of potential but not if 30% had her way. "There's a huge Spider in the Bedroom. Do something about it" came the command.

I did what any red blooded male would do........

......... Later that evening as we retired there came an expression of alarm followed by "I thought I told you to do something about that Spider". "I did" I replied - "I've called it Dave".

"WHAT!" she responded. I confirmed that I had christened it Dave and from now on it should be referred to as Dave. 30% was not impressed but I stood firm as Protector of Arachnid Special Forces recruit #342/579 aka Dave and within a few days 30% had "got with the programme" and was referring to him as Dave too.

By giving the little devil an identity she actually came to regard him more as a pet than a pest and now is pretty cool where spiders are concerned. I know aversion therapy is supposed to work but my techniques are a little more sophisticated.

Ah - the giraffe. Sorry - I got distracted.

Yesterday I got to thinking about extinction and how, whilst it is a natural event, extinction as a result of man is not a good thing.

I therefore thought why don't we use all of our intellect and Bio Tech to create some new species to replace any that go extinct. In fact it should be part of international law.

This is where I came up with the idea for the Shetland Giraffe. You must have seen Shetland Ponies - small, shaggy, hardy, ideally adapted to the harsh climate of the Shetland Islands. Well how about the Shetland Giraffe......

.... recruit a team of scientists and using a combination of artificial selection on naturally short@rsed giraffes and genetic manipulation (possibly using Okapi DNA) I reckon before long we could get Giraffes that stood about 5' high and were a bit stockier and therefore able to handle colder climates. How good would they be - you could keep one in the garden and they could be introduced in to a much wider variety of habitats than Savannah. This is the future.

I do have a strong affection for Giraffes after my first face to face contact when I took TP to a Safari Park and was amazed by how gentle and huge they are.

Having sorted that out I then went further. Once they've sorted out the Shetland Giraffe they need to look to getting some commercial funding to keep this project running. Pets, I thought.

Do you know anyone who keeps a lizard. They are not the most entertaining of pets. Good to look at but not much fun on a country walk. So.......

...... Why not take the Giraffe Model and apply it to Lizards. Again, artificial selection combined with genetic manipulation with the aim of breeding a Diplodocus that gets to about the size of Jack Russel. Obviously the long tail and neck will make him seem a bit bigger.

How good would that be!

Apparently they ate conifers so imagine a Christmas Morning when his cute little face pops out from under your Christmas Tree contentedly munching on a mouth full of needles. The perfect pet and no need to take the damn tree down to the tip after 12th Night.