Wednesday, 14 March 2012

Frog Central

A few weeks back Parsley and I were admiring Sam's (my neighbour) pond. It was teeming with frogs. Must have been upward of 20 +. Our pond had a measly three in there, looking the dudes and dudettes who didn't get invited to the party, or some unsavoury section of society mulling over saucy things to do. The sun was beaming down on their little amphibian faces, forty gleaming orb eyes looking at us. I was jealous as hell. So imagine my unfettered amazement and joy when I went down the garden last Sunday and saw a slew of frogs bouncing about in our pond - hard as a cholo mobile. I actually started laughing. With a bit more inspection I saw mad clusters of frogspawn. Out of every 2000 eggs laid, only six frogs will reach maturity. That's a pretty brutal stat right there. Nonetheless I was over the moon as was the family Wakefield who paid me a visit in the morning. It was a pleasure to see my Dad and the Boneman staring into the pond as I have been wont to do many a time. My little, beloved nephew Joseph did a very good impersonation of their croaks and ribbits.

I just can't wait for the tadpoles. I have ludicrous primary school memories of tadders swarming about like furious apostrophes or commas in a communal tub. And just now I've read, 'Tadpoles can regenerate lost limbs though grown frogs cannot!' Does anyone have any thiouracil going spare? We could make some very old tadpoles by blocking the action of their thyroid hormones! But that would be just plain cruel n'est pas?

Watch this space for more reports from Frog Central.

Got any Welsh rarebit?


 Flop. Wow. A fairly innocuous sounding word, unless you consider it in the context of something being a failure, or the state men might find their nether regions in at a crucial moment. EITHER WAY flop in G Unit parlance is used to describe the putrid and sloppy combo of water, sand and clay that has no practical use in the garden whatsoever. Moreover this crap - brown ooze is actually bad for stuff! It looks like diarrhea! It's useless! Flop!

We had a royal chuckle recalling an excellent documentary that was on last year. In it we saw a dead elephant decaying and being eaten by various creatures. The first dude on the scene was a hyena and for want of better words he went right for the bumole. Snuffling his snout in there he wasted no time in chewing on a particularly volatile length of back passage. Within seconds a hot, turbid jet of fart juice that had been building up in the savanna heat, shot out and the hyena legged it. It had an uncanny likeness to flop. Just check out this stuff below. Rank.    

Heat Sink

Over the course of the last few weeks most of our efforts have been directed at the construction of the HEAT SINK. This bad boy has gone through many stages, the most recent of which was widespread pebble and stone washing, which is about as much fun as it sounds. But as it was Parsley and I doing it there was roars of laughter, clay catapulting and one liners that would've made Bob Monkhouse jealous. My favourite lines were 'If you know what a noise sounds like you can hear it.' (Parsley), 'Ew, you're kicking shit in my face,' (Parsley) and 'Get in your pit you pig!' (Parsley). I took to screaming COTTON TRADERS alternating between a Texan twang and a silver spoon upper class lilt. This will take too long to explain and is as insular a joke as you could expect to find. Just know we found it hilarious. Cakeatonne didn't!

Just why were we cleaning millions of pebbles? Well in Parsley's infinite wisdom we were removing layers of crud (mostly orange clay) as this would impede the flow of air round the pebbles and stones once they were in the sink. At first I sneered and jeered at the idea but the amount of slop we sloshed off in the course of a few days was pretty substantial. We were all over the place - at the back of the garden in the yard area; over by the apple trees; in the centre of the garden where there's always a lovely wildflower collection in Summer - always spraying with the hose and shaking the crap off in a riddle (a true garden implement not a brain teaser). I was carrying trugs of sludge water around like an ape and pouring it off onto hedges, anywhere that wasn't already SOAKED. The mess that was left behind we called FLOP. I will discuss this horrid substance in a separate blog because it's worth it.

Last Friday we put the heat sink together and lowered it into the hole in the solardome. Various experiments were made to see whether the air was flowing through the pipes properly. In the final instance we took a hair dryer and blasted it down the pipes and that worked a big cakey dream! We then started to lob in all the clean(ish) stones and pebbles we had accrued over the last few weeks. Eventually Parsley will fill the rest of the hole with water filled coke bottles. As it stands at the moment we are approx 1/4 of the way to filling the cage. See below for the sequence of crazy events that doth a heat sink make.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Spring hath Sprung

I dedicate this entry to the start of a very beautiful and promising Spring. The following is lifted, almost verbatim from my diary of 2011, March 24:

Hot green tea from a metal mug, plucking the odd leaf from my lips as Alice stuffs a soggy receipt in her mouth. A trip to the tip or the dump with a seasoned, evasive man in hi-vis jacket asking questions about post code and rubbish type. Com Truise, mesmeric, setting sci fi themes to odd buildings. Jacob and I - quips pertaining to strength et al. Gloves half useless. The smash of porcelain, mirrors, gnomes and a silver terminator toy with gun upraised. Today, I noticed all these things...Earth boy. My fingers smell of woodsmoke. A visit from Gigasmethwick - a bead of saliva as he rolled his large skull against the stone, utterly content. Yes. Yes.