A Wedding and Men Made of Hay

Today we travelled to the land of The Hay Man, it is a strange place where people make men out of hay bails and other folk wander about scratching their heads saying Why has he done that, but no one knows WHY, so it’s a complete mystery. I will say it is a busy place and trying to park is a right old game, so we did get a bit of a tour before we arrived at our final place of destination.

BUT WHY I hear you say did we take this epic trip along strange roads untraveled by everyday folk for many a long year . . . . . . . . That was the Sat-Nav’s fault WHY do they take people on routes that are designed for a horse to travel on, although we did refuse to head off down the one with a huge sign saying unsuitable for vehicles with grass growing in the centre of it. Ooooooo hang what was I saying . . .Ah yes WHY did we go, well it was the Ghost Writers Daughter’s Wedding, (that is Miss I) who married Mr S as they wanted to get married a bit further away from their home location.

Miss I is (or was) of course the bride to be who was not at her hen night where the Ghost Writer acted as a substitute bride to be on what was a henless night, and Mr S is (or was) the soon to be husband (now husband) of the bride who made the Classically Styled Retro Robot.

It was a successful wedding because they are now married and after they got married we all went and drank tea before we set off back on our intrepid return journey without the use of a Sat-Nav and many other folk vanished off for fish and chips. (we opted for a Chinese takeaway).

There will be a smallish party next Saturday where the Ghost Writer and other family members of the bride and groom will be able to grumble at folk and point and say things like GO AWAY and WHO ARE YOU and WHY are you making a man out of HAY. 

It’s a bit of a worry, the Ghost Writer at a party is not a pretty sight……..

Ooooooo yes interestingly the bride forgot who she was, I don’t think that is meant to happen…….

.

Ghost Writers, Robots and Pop Up Galleries

After all the excitement of watching a grumpy old bloke celebrate his birthday as the bride to be at a henless night, things were a little more normal today. Well I say normal as it happens the bride and the soon to be husband of the bride to be came to see us, I use the word us in a vague way as they arrived with a present for the Ghost Writer who has taken to hiding in our garden. This is because he does not like people much and spends a lot of time shouting BAH HUMBUG over the top of hedges in a belligerent and grumpy manor, not an ideal Ghost Writer really but as I have said before he is very cheap. Anyway Mr S (the husband to be) has welded up a Classically Styled Retro Robot as a sixtieth birthday present for him, and I have to say his little eyes almost lit up (that’s the Ghost Writer not the robot) which means he was very pleased.  It is a very cool looking Retro Robot with some serious steel in him and seemed quite happy watching the Traditional Female Mallard Robot Steam Powered Duck, I guess it is because they are in their own ways both traditional yet a bit quirky much like the Ghost Writer.

I must run off now as we are off to a pop-up gallery to look at art and stuff but I will return soon. . . . . . . .

I have returned in an almost seamless way meaning that you have not noticed that it suddenly got dark and is late. I have chatted to many folk and also eaten chips and viewed the art of Mr Andrew Logan in Montgomery. He tends to use lots of sparkly things and colour and is a bit of an eccentric much like myself only rather different. I don’t think he is quite so keen on robots and zombies, but then lots of folk are like that, its all the death rays and eating folks brains that they find a bit off putting, but we all have our little faults………

Oooooo it appears the Ghost Writer is preparing a cunning plan with Bats?

The Ghost Writers Birthday and the Suburban Grass Lizard

Today was the sixtieth birthday of the Ghost Writer so now he is well and truly old; well he is compared with me, the young eccentric of cyberspace.  To celebrate we are off to a hen night which sounds a bit odd as this is not normal, however all will become clear over the next few days or so (or possibly not). However there is one technical hitch to the hen night and that is the bride on hearing that we are both turning up said O GOD NO and has locked herself in the toilet for the night. So now it is a henless night, neither of us have been to a henless night either.

Mr Kris got the Ghost Writer a Robot that can tell the time, which is useful as time is all over the place at present. And Miss Fionaski the Famous Russian Spy gave the Ghost Writer bacon soap, he was dead pleased at first until he tried to eat it and then he started to foam at the mouth and run about waving his arms about like an IDIOT.  Hardly a dignified way for a chap who is sixty to behave first thing in the morning, even if he is away with the fairies.

I decided to give the Ghost Writer a rare Suburban Grass Lizard which was thought to be extinct until one was found a year or two ago in suburbia and kept at the London Zoo, well it was until it escaped and was never seen again. Luckily I know a man who knows a man who said he had one, apparently he was expecting a parrot but things happened. Anyway the Suburban Grass Lizard is very placid well it was until it saw someone foaming at the mouth and flapping their arms about like a seagull (one of its favourite foods).  And then when it got a strong smell of bacon (another of its favourite foods) it was more that it could resist and so it sort of chewed a bit of the Ghost Writers leg.

The Ghost Writer sulked then but that is part of being old, although he got the old strimmer to work first time so Well Impressive.

OK I am off now we have a Henless Night to go too…….

Oooooooo yes Google sort of made an error and I have nicked the Ghost Writers birthday in cyberspace but he does not know yet. . . . . .HAH HAHHAHAHH HAH HAhha ha hah hah hah ahhah ah hha ha ha ha ha ha . . . . . . I think . . . . AH DAMN.

Leopards and cyberspace

My connection with the great expanses of cyberspace is not as it should be, I am limping along on dead slow and no one likes limping in cyberspace its like competing against a leopard in the egg and spoon race. I have asked the Ghost Writer about this and he says not to worry because leopards can’t hold spoons very well and so I have a slim chance of beating the leopard provided he does not get angry and eat me.  I had to explain to the Ghost writer that I really did not want his opinion on my hypothetical race comparison and was hoping he would sort out the internet.

So he has looked at my old battered PC and said in his view it resembles an egg that has had a large leopards steel cage dropped on in several times while the leopard was off in its paddock training for an important egg and spoon race.  I told the Ghost Writer he was an IDIOT but he said I started it and no one at work confuses him with talk of leopards and that he felt I was putting him in an awkward spot so to speak (HAH HAHAHH HHAH Ha ha hah hah ha ha  . . . . Spot leopard HAHAH HAHh ah hah ah hahha ha).

Anyway I am sort of time deficient  at present even on a good day so quite frankly this is silly so I am abandoning a breakdown of the days events and plan to go and throw stuff at leopards, that will teach them, assuming I can catch them up…… 

A thin thread of reality between other dimensions

Yesterday I was off with friends having a meal so what with everything else going on a diary entry was out of the question due to time. Time is jolly annoying at present and I am trying to do my best to create more of it, but of course time is not an isolated component of the universe it goes hand in hand with space. And as a result things are getting a little confused as the general concept of space is getting right confused. It is a little known fact we effectively walk on a thin thread of reality and either side of us are other dimensions where the other us wanders about doing things also.  I have noticed rather annoyingly that when I do get odd glimpses of other dimensions in the reflections caused by the time space shift I am right handed. Although I appear still to be in the minority as most folk are left handed.

 I have always been reassured that the other me, the right handed me will always wave back when I see them and wave.

Anyway between attempts at shifting time (the Einstein Cube is in a safe place? or sort of lost) and waving at my other self I have had a bonfire and have grovelling about in hedges and watched swallows. The swallows are starting to get ready to fly off a sure sign of Autumn not being far away…….  Oooooo yes the swallows are not in the hedges by the way.  

A Huge Traditional Female Mallard Robot Steam Powered Duck and the Scale of Reality

Yesterday I was in a bit of a rush with my diary entry due to the lack of time, and this resulted in a little confusion as to exactly what I was doing with ducks, well today it only got worse but I will explain more in a minute.

Earlier we had taken Mr F with us to see Miss I and Mr S who are due to get married next Saturday while we were there we got to see their house and drank tea. And Mr S was telling us about his granny who apparently is a crack shot with a sawn off twelve bore riffle, although to be fair it is hard to miss stuff with a sawn off twelve bore rifle. There is an old saying that goes He could not hit a barn door ten feet away if he tried well once you saw the barrels off a shot gun it is possible to hit four or five of them all at the same time. So we chatted, watched strange folk chasing sheep, bees and looked at a telephone box. It then got rather dark and cloudy and we thought it was going to rain which in the end it did not, but I thought I saw a Neutrino shoot down and pass through the Earth (as they do). This is odd because in theory due to the scale of reality a Neutrino is seriously tiny, not rain drop sized which leads us back to ducks  . . . . . . . Yes, I hear your confusion.

You see once we got back home the traditional Female Mallard Robot Steam Powered Duck was still successfully swimming about in the Robot duck test pond, but due to some terrible occurrence in the Bermuda Triangle (sorry I mean the Berriew Triangle) an unsuspecting fishing boat and its crew found themselves battling a Huge Traditional Female Mallard Robot Steam Powered Duck who had got wind of its catch of fresh herrings. This of course is what happens in nature when the Scale of Reality gets muddled and you get rain drop size Neutrino’s. Luckily the fishing boat vanished off in the same way it arrived and normality appears to have returned for now. . . . . .

Oooooo yes; You might notice that the Robot Duck test pond is in fact the hole that had grannies carpet in. I thought it best to follow the advice of the alien message. If you do not understand any of that you need to read my diary more………

And luckily I have a witness to the truth of my diary today as Mr F saw it all…….

When is a Duck a Duck

I am late again, it is all this doing stuff that is the problem so actually writing about what I have done is then harder. Anyway because it is late this is going to be the short abbreviated diary entry just in order to keep continuity, a diary without continuity is like a seagull without a mad glint in his eye and a belligerent swagger outside the fish and chip shop on a Friday night.

So in short we discovered that a Robot Elvis Duck is rubbish at swimming in a pond, A Glow in the Dark Robot Duck will float about but in a very uninteresting way, not in the true spirit of Ducks. And finally a traditional Female Mallard Robot Steam powered Duck is a good swimmer as long as any holes are properly filled up so that it does not list to starboard.   

 We also tested the old pond pump and it still works but we had not anticipated that it would siphon half the water out of the Robot Duck testing pond when it was turned off. Yes we should have thought of that, but even the minds of mad mechanical geniuses are not infallible or even inflatable.

I managed to get some PVA glue to glue things and showed Mr F round a shop and I have just been eating Bombay Mix and eating toast and peanut butter . . . . . YUM; even though it is rather late because that is the sort of chap I am… . . . . . . .  

Ooooooo and an old traction engine passed the house today on its way to somewhere so I took a photo and told them that the internal combustion engine would be far easier to park.

The Sad End of Crop Circles, but the Arrival of the New Water Circles.

Mr Jones several times lately has been lamenting the times back in the old days when aliens could communicate with folk on Earth using crop circles; when crop circles were simple affairs with subtle messages asking if we were friendly, and did we mind if they were to come down and eat us all, well maybe not all, but certainly all the politicians. But then hoaxers started making fancy elaborate crop circles that looked all very clever but had more to do with art installations than a simple alien message, which in turn annoyed the aliens resulting in them saying they had, had enough and were going to go off to sulk. As they said, no one likes a smart arse human ruining a decent cornfield pretending they are aliens, particularly aliens.

However he cheered up this morning with the discovery of an alien Water circle on our drive, he says it has all the hallmarks of the original circles and is plainly the work of alien intelligent life.  And although it has been some time since they last communicated with mankind they say that we appear to be rubbish still at picking leaders. Well I must admit I do agree with that most of them just seem to cause trouble for us ordinary folk in the street with their mad plans of power and corruption.

Apparently the message also said that the rumour that Zombies have an aversion to Grannies almost indestructible old carpet is just not true, and that they are far keener on the retro granny look that most people realise and that I should hide that carpet pronto.

So I spent the day hiding the carpet, then later on Mr F arrived as he is spending the weekend with us so I have been chatting and am therefore a little late with the diary . . . . . Sorry about that…..

Grannies Soft Furnishings, Zombies and keyholes

I learnt something very interesting about Zombies today, no I don’t want to here you are groaning about more Zombies unless you are a Zombie, in which case you cant help groaning a bit. You see I was speaking to Mr Jones and he knows about Zombies from his nights spent looking for aliens at night in the woods, and he often runs into the odd Zombie and has long ago mastered the art of escape.  So he told me today that Zombies hate comfy soft furnishings and in particular have an aversion to Grannies almost indestructible old carpet, So although it may sound a bit odd I was carpeting one of the smaller holes in the Zombie defence system in order to keep them away. The one draw back appears to be that cats will sleep all over the Zombie defence system ruining its overall image and I am now preparing for an attack by tigers.

While on the subject of Granny have you ever noticed that if you peer through a keyhole in a door, most of the time you will see an eye staring at you from the other side and hear mad demented whispering and the scratching of claws at the door handle. I keep telling granny she should be less nosey.

Ooooo yes I also heard this strange unfamiliar sound a bit earlier while I was laying carpet in a small hole and stood there thinking what the hell is that it was very loud and sounded to me like a man with a flame thrower. What I did not do and what I should have done is look straight upwards as it was a hot air balloon full of Zombies who I think only floated off into the next field when they observed the distinct pattern of Grannies carpet looming at them from the ground. 

Che Guevara and the huge tins of Red Bull and a Zombie

I did my bodyguard bit for the Ghost Writer today, but it did not go down well apparently the Che Guevara meets Rambo image I chose is not suitable for the modern office environment and large Gatling guns are frowned on by members of staff. As it turned out the Ghost Writers new office was remarkably quiet although he is a little annoyed as he could not find his security pass and only managed to enter the building because of two things. The first of which is, he is rather well known for his battered appearance and grumbling at everyone as he enters the main reception area. And the second, which had an even greater impact being, he had a bodyguard who was holding a fairly mean looking Gatling gun capable of accidently going off and sort of removing parts of the ceiling and the security cameras in a slightly indiscriminate and random way.

I also saw as I was guarding the Ghost Writer during the day two very large tins of Red Bull, a drink I have to say I have never drunk, these tins were about ten feet high and strapped to the top of cars. Anyway to be on the safe side I thought it best to remove the tins from the vehicles in a quick and effective manor, which involved a large gun and a stampeding crowd screaming and running off in the opposite direction. As a result I have now been banned from being a bodyguard unless we are somewhere no one knows us.

I then just about made in home in time to see Miss Jackie and Mr Phil who both said O MY GOD it’s the zombie Ghost of  Che Guevara again as they leapt into their car which appeared to have the remains of a large can on the roof.

So what I think I have just said is not a lot happened today although the Ghost Writer is not happy with his new tea making facilities, he plans to take his own sugar next time….

The Spy and the Great Diving Beetle.

Today proved to be a funny old day as my plans did not go to plan. I started by dismantling a bed, a useful skill that can come in extremely handy if you ever need to dismantle a bed, and if all goes well I will work out how to put it together again very soon. I also had to paint the edges of the box of sea a bit because the sea moves; I am getting round this problem by making sea doors to keep the sea confined so that should sort that out.

Then we had a trip to the Coy People of the Din Ash who sell folk stuff; the great leader of the Coy People of the Din Ash is a man called Charlie who no one ever sees any more for various reasons, well just the one really. Anyway we bought a pond and a drain cover and a small palm thing, some milk and a huge chocolate cake . . . . . DAMN we did not buy a huge chocolate cake.

Then this afternoon Miss Fionaski the Famous Russian Spy came to see us, she is on a secret mission at the end of the week in a creek I think, where it is very hot and the creek is full of Octopus and other strange beasts which she says she may be forces to eat. Interestingly Miss Fionaski might be happy to fight huge Octopus, but she does not like Wasps in fact she said if she was tortured with a wasp she would tell all straight away. Although she did insist I did not tell anyone . . . . . . . AH DAMN. And she passed on a small unmarked package for the Ghost Writer which apparently is also a secret . . . . . . DAMN again…..

What was really strange was that as she was about to drive off back to base a Great Diving Beetle fell onto her car, I have to say that was very strange, sometimes real life can be as weird as  the world of Rob which is good to know. I saved the Great Diving Beetle and put it in the pond so it is OK as they don’t really live on cars too well.

Tomorrow it appears I will be with the Ghost Writer acting as his bodyguard in his new and as yet untested (by him) office. He is not good with things changing and he does not have his own desk anymore.

Ooooooooooo apparently it is not creek it is Crete…….almost the same thing.  

Blue Trees, and keeping stuff you don't need.

It is getting a little late again tonight, I made the mistake of sitting down after a busy day and as I’m sure you all know yourselves it is not easy to leap back into action to get going again. 

I am sure many of you are aware of the fact dad has always insisted that everything should be kept because as he says one day you might just need it,  today proved the point, (yet again) as we have used a long external electrical cable which has been in storage for over thirty years. Dad always said that it was a really useful thing, and to buy it today would cost loads, in fact had we had to buy it we would have not have undertaken the task of getting power to the summerhouse, but it does mean we have a glow in the dark summerhouse and  small tree . . . . WELL COOL.

I sort of mentioned I was planning on making a tree and painting it blue today but I did not complete the task. It appears making trees is slightly more complex that I thought and painting them is a longer process than I thought. Still it has been started and with luck will be completed in a few more days, although I do have other things to do and strange creatures to hunt and loads of important stuff on the go all the time.

I am slowly getting to the point where I plan to stop writing my diary on a daily basis too. This will be rather useful as I have many things to do and days are not really long enough to write everyday let alone try to draw pictures; yes I have not done that for a couple of days now but drawing is only possible when I am not doing other things. It is for example not possible to draw a picture of a huge man eating lizard when a huge man eating lizard is trying to eat you. And if you do manage to complete the drawing there is nothing more annoying than having your rather good drawing of a huge man eating lizard being eaten by a huge man eating lizard and things like this only delay the creation of blue trees.  

Gardening in the Garden or instant steps

Today I was doing a bit of gorilla gardening only in our own garden, which is not really what you are meant to do as it is not really part of the overall concept. However there is much to do, even though loads has been done over the last couple of years. 

Now you might be thinking, what is a young eccentric child of cyberspace doing gardening, and you are right, on the face of it this is the Provence of say a grumpy old Ghost Writer, but I do big stuff or I am sent down deep dark muddy holes. What I do not do is play with flowers and the like unless I can use a chainsaw or a flame thrower and I am told both are not ideal tools for a flower bed,

So today I made a couple of steps, a small gravel path through a hole in a hedge that was not there (that’s the hole as the hedge was there), shifted some plants in pots and then painted some stone blue. I know stone is not normally blue, but it works ok in the Majorelle Garden in Marrakesh and I did have some paint left over from painting the sea blue yesterday. I am hoping if all goes to plan I might get to make a tree and paint that blue tomorrow, but me and plans do not always go together well.

We have also reached the point in the year where in the evening all the fairy lights at the front of the house can be switched on again, We have about two thousand of them I think at present but I have a feeling there are another two or three thousand to go up soon. It is one of the reasons Mr Jones is often lurking round the house, he says Aliens will see our house as a landing beacon at the edge of the woods with its strange glow from the myriad of little lights.

OOOooooo and I had bacon and chips for tea so YUM………

How to Paint the Sea Blue and other Useful Information

I painted the sea blue today; not all of it of course because trying to do that would be silly, it would take a least a week and I would need some help doing all the edges, and besides I was not actually anywhere near the sea. No what I was painting was a box of sea, not a huge one, but one large enough for a steam boat and some sea beasts, although I have to admit waves are harder to paint that you think as they have a tendency to move about a bit. It like that old saying TIME and tide wait for no MAN, interestingly if you have ever been offshore one thing you learn (so I’ve been told) is that time offshore is different to time onshore and it can move faster or slower depending on all sorts of curious factors.  The same is also true too some degree of a box of sea, as time can be a bit subjective and the result was I have been able to paint the entire sea available to me…..

While on the subject of moving water the Zombie defence system has been refined and fitted with drainage pipes to allow water to flow through them, because Zombies hate moving water.  Its true, when did you last see a Zombie having a wash or a shower, they hate them, and Zombies are seriously bad swimmers and never paddle in the sea, which means that Zombies are no help when you are painting the sea blue. They are also fairly hopeless at painting straight lines so asking them to paint an undulating line that sweeps in and out in a lovely mix of curves and shapes would just confuse them.

Oooooo and we had roast potatoes tonight and runner beans supplied by Mr Kris who called by earlier, And I have just cleaned one of the patio door windows which appears to have been painted by a Zombie who was practicing painting the sea just in case he was asked to help. I am not sure how he breached the defence system; he must be a clever Zombie although his painting skills are as bad as all the others. 

.

.

Real Life Robots, Cabbage White Butterflies and the Loss of some Hair

This morning like most morning I caught up with the world by listening to Radio Four and was listening to the Today programme which sort of zips thought the news and other topics of interest. I do not always take it all in, but I did take note at one point this morning when they talked about Robots starting to take human form and doing human things. Well it all seemed very odd as in my diary in the last two days I have discussed Robo-Rob. Anyway they interviewed someone from a company called Engineered Arts Ltd who makes a robot called Robothespian, which appears not to be fitted with a rather powerful laser death ray and to me looks a little benign with no scary eyes or pointy teeth.

It is yet another occasion where my diary has beaten the real world to a story of interest and so I am getting even more like that Nostradamus bloke all the time, well I was until a terrible thing happened at lunchtime. So terrible that many of my powers may have been destroyed in an instant, you see I had to go and have my haircut, something that happens regularly at least three times a year despite my efforts at hiding in boxes and deep holes.

On returning home (with much less hair) I did notice yet again that the garden has filled with Cabbage White Butterflies, loads of them and I was expecting to have another incidence of falling through time but it did not appear to happen. I just hope the loss of some of my hair has not resulted in me becoming less time sensitive and limiting my ability to time travel.

One other small thing as a result of having my hair cut though was that the weather was much better afterwards although possibly I had not seen the weather before as it was obscured by hair. 

And I have not drawn a picture for tonight as I have things to do and must focus my energy on hair growth so I have photographed the Ghost Writer, although he was not happy about it, I think you can tell………..

Bones, X Rays and Robots

This morning dad said I needed an X ray as it was very important to establish whether or not I had bones inside me, I did tell him I did but he said I would say that and he wanted evidence.  You see last night he insisted that I had a fight with Robo-Rob in a struggle to the death battle of wits (I sort of got that wrong last night). He even had a bet with the Ghost Writer, who said I was bound to win as I had a pointy stick even if the Robo-Rob had a devastating laser death ray; as I am even more slippery than a charmed greased pig with nine lives.

As it happened luck was on my side as the devastating laser death ray used rather a lot of power, and Robo-Rob spent just a bit too long showing off by zapping my collection of pointy sticks but ran out of power completely leaving just the one. . . . . . . So no contest really. Dad blames it on the Nano-technology electronic cyberbrain he has designed to replace politicians, as politicians do like to show off and run out of steam before they actually do anything. So he plans to redesign these Robots to be more robot like. Anyway he reckoned just to be on the safe side he needed to ensure the Robo-Rob was not being sneaky (well these Nano-politican electronics can’t be trusted) and that I was me…….   

On returning home from my X ray reassured that I am full of bones, I decided to celebrate by putting drainage pipes in a deep hole and poking them with a pointy stick (I need to make some more now). And that was about it for the day….. 

A Cunning Master Plan and a Robot

Interestingly this evening I have noticed that a Mr Gary was saying in the wondrous world of cyberspace that what he needed was some clones to help him in his efforts to get everything done. I say interestingly because the thought had also occurred to me, because the Ghost Writer keeps making me move loads of stuff. Today he was removing cables from the ceiling void above his old office and said I was small and already a shambly dishevelled person so getting covered in Asbestos and toxic materials would not ruin my clothing. He has to wear a suit, well maybe not a suit, but they prefer him to look smart, although in my opinion he looks as dishevelled as I do.

But luckily dad had built a Robo-Rob as part of what he calls A Cunning Master Plan to replace certain people with obedient killing robots. So he said to the Ghost Writer that he could test the Robo-Rob to see if folk notice it was not me as in the real me, and that it would work faster then me anyway and not poke things with a pointy stick.

It apparently fooled everyone who all thought it was me, in fact the Ghost Writer said it was a highly successful day and I have never been so popular and that the only slight mistake was on the way home when the Robo-Rob destroyed a small car with a little old lady in who was driving very slowly in front of the Ghost Writer and then it laughed hysterically for the rest of the journey. It appears that the Robo-Rob and myself have got to have a shoot out later; only the Robo-Rob has a high powered death laser weapon and I have a pointy stick. Dad says it is a test of his micro nano technology to see if a robot or a man will win in a struggle to the death, battle of wits. It is part of dad’s cunning plan as he says it is best not to try and replace politicians until he has proved his robots work……     

More events of unimportance

I have been rather lazy today, although this morning I did go and see the doc who reckons I am still sane but my joints are rubbish and tells me I will never run the 100 metres in less that 10 seconds ever again which is good news. Then my plans to go outside were sort of scuppered by drizzle and a grey sky, which is quite a contrast to last night when the sky here was crystal clear for the Meteor shower. It was very impressive although shouting there’s one does not work because it takes too long to say even if you try and say it very very fast or just say T O or even just T. Shouting just T is not a good idea either as voices in the dark started shouting For good sake get him a cup of Tea we are trying to sleep. . . .  

So back to today, I attached a new light fitting to the ceiling in the end in order to be productive and then I decided to use the computer to tweak my artists impression of a meteor shower. Mr Jones said he did not watch the meteor shower as it was in fact a cunning distraction tactic used by aliens to distract the public and that we need to watch The Day of the Triffids, I did a rather good re-enactment of that film once so I can understand his point.

Anyway I have some arty things I need to do so I may vanish off now and do the arty things of which I am sort of briefly passing over in a non descriptive veil of vagueness in order to imply mystery and excitement. It is an interesting fact that us humans always think that the thing we cant see or get too or have is far more interesting and exciting than they really are, although in this particular case that is not true as it is far more interesting and exciting than you think it is (I think).

Ooooo just as a small passing point I dreamt we had twelve cats last night; I know this because I woke up thinking this lot is going to cost a fortune to feed. I just hope Zombie defence systems work on cats although dad says they don’t and I will probably turn into a Zombie Cat and eat the brains of small rodents……..  

Wood, steam and meteors (abbreviated)

Dad has built a huge steam powered mutant man eating parrot (no the parrot does not eat mutant men) he said his plan was to use it to protect Captain Flint who as most of you will not know is the parrot who insists he is at least five hundred years old and knows where the gold is hidden. Anyway no one will nick Captain Flint now that’s for sure.

I was helping the Ghost Writer shift stuff today and as a reward was given another wooden desk and a load of wood shelving, wood is good you should always hang on to any that is being thrown out . . . .  after all as the old saying goes Wood does not grow on trees you know . . . . . . AH OK it does but that is not the point.

Anyway due to my good deed helping the Ghost Writer and then myself and my drumming colleague drumming, we were drumming in the meteor showers which are due tonight, plus the fact I am about to go and shout at the meteors, (I do like to shout at meteors as it is good luck) tonight’s diary entry is rather short and will end rather abruptly any second now. No I mean it, I must go and look at the sky…..

So bye

Time Travelling Butterflies and Sam the Parrot is Back in Harry Tuffins at Churchstoke

It was a nice day today and as I stood outside just after breakfast pondering, a plane shot over the house flying really low, OK these things happen from time to time, but on this occasion it looked just like a world war two Hurricane. That was a surprise and what was interesting about this was at the time the garden was full of cabbage white butterflies. Now some of you will say it is merely a coincidence because to put it bluntly you are a sceptical lot and some of you I’m sure have doubts about my diary, but its all true (OK mostly).  This sort of coincidence is however just too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, to prove my point I want everyone who has stood in their garden and seen a WW2 fighter fly over at the same time as their garden has filled up with an abnormally large number of butterflies. . . . . . . . . .  You see my point is made.

But so what, I hear you type (as you do on occasions);  well as it can not be a coincidence then it can only be one thing and that is a Time Warp where our garden dropped back in time to a point where the likelihood of seeing a WW2 fighter is very likely. You see one of the lesser known facts about butterflies is they are time sensitive and if there is a likely hood of a patch of land dropping through time for a while they will gather at the spot and take advantage of the situation to go back in time to feed on pre GM crops free from modern insecticides and other nasty substances.

It has long been know in scientific circles that Butterflies can time travel but most scientists are loathed to say so for fear of being ridiculed by the masses and burnt at the stake.

Anyway after a few minutes the butterflies dispersed, and time returned to normal (I think).

Oooooooo one other small thing I have noticed that news of Sam the Parrot appears to have become almost impossible to find, as if he never existed, it is like he has vanished into a completely different time, a time when parrots were free to roam the planet eating cake and Brazil nuts in the rolling hills telling tales of pirate gold.  

Hang on just as I was having a cup of tea before I posted my diary entry I have news Sam the Parrot has returned and men have been arrested in Birmingham. . . . . . . . . .

WELCOME BACK SAM.  

     

.

The Perils of life as a Parrot.

It appears that Sam the Parrot has been stolen from his home at Harry Tuffins Superstore in Churchstoke which may not seem like devastating news, but around here he is known to almost everyone, partly because he shouts at you when you enter the supermarket. In the old days he was free range and would laugh and bounce about as he snipped another finger off some unsuspecting small child, well he is a parrot after all.

Now there are some thefts in the world of crime that are just seen as bad form such as stealing from small children and little old ladies, as Benny Neckbender would say ITS not right stealing stuff from someones granny and such things are frowned on badly by decent upstanding criminals. However one of the lowest of the lows in this world of moral conflicts is stealing a mans parrot, since the days of pirates on the high seas it has been taboo to steal parrots and will result in bad karma (like seriously bad Karma). So if you are reading this and have a nicked parrot then I would say best to hand it back or Napoleon Beelzebub will be turning up saying WHOSE A pretty boy then something you really don’t want to hear from Satan.

The Ghost Writer however has a different theory, well he has two . .. . the first is :-

Not so long ago the Co-op took over the supermarket but not the whole of the building, so could not get rid of the parrot,  It is not in keeping with the multinational corporate image they like to portray to the masses and so they have hired a hit man to bump off the parrot. Possibly the famous hit man known to the world as, The Jackdaw like in the Movie……The Day of the Jackdaw.

The second theory is:-

Late at night in the dark; Harry Tuffins Superstore was in fact broken into by aliens. Since the store was empty there was no one to communicate with in the dark as they grabbed provisions then a voice said TAKE ME to your leader, well we all know Sam the Parrot loves to talk but saying take me to your leader to an Alien is foolish indeed. So Sam will be on an Alien Spacecraft somewhere.

Ooooo yes there is one further point to make and that is this is not the first time Sam has been stolen but last time the thieves were caught when Sam told the pet shop owner they were trying to sell him too that he was in fact Sam the Parrot and needed some help pronto.

.

The Science of Dark Matter, Squirrels and Micro Gods

Mr Chris the Builder was back today as planned and as he worked away busily making concrete squirrels and I was back down in the mud of the deep trench, (if you are wondering Zombies really hate Squirrels, it is a well known fact). Anyway as we toiled away Mr Chris the builder said to me Rob it has been a long time since you discussed anything of ANY scientific note, its all Zombies these days and he is right so I thought SCIENCE thoughts not Zombie thoughts.

So as I was thinking and we moved some three foot paving slabs which are rather heavy beasts it occurred to me that energy and force can all be a bit odd, well some forms of them can. Lifting paving slabs is all very easy to understand; your body is a source of energy that creates a force and uses the body to lift the slab by physical contact with the slab. But if you think about the moon it goes round the Earth held in place by a force called gravity, it might sound simple enough but a force can only be exerted on a thing if there is a link. Like lightning that is energy that links to the ground, and it has substance, it is a real thing, an understandable force.  Gravity in order to be gravity has to somehow have some sort of link, and we are not talking small links with no force after all the link creates tides at sea so this is serious energy and force and plainly a huge and substantial link. So how come we cant see it, like a giant shimmering blue haze all the way to the moon, well I am glad you asked me that because I will tell you what this link is made of…… Dark Matter

Yes for ages scientists have told us that the universe is mainly made of Dark Matter but no one can find it, what they need to do is start looking at the gravitational links between everything. Links are links because they are made of stuff even if you can’t see the stuff, and the stuff has substance, if there was no link then things like the moon would just drift off and cats would float into the sky. So in short Gravity has substance and the substance of Gravity is Dark Matter, but for reasons best know to the appropriate Micro God we cant see it or do useful things with it . . . . . OK yes dad can he has a Dark Matter Motor to run the all new Mk2 Weather Machine which he hopes to switch on in just a week or two.

.

.

Tales for the Hunting Lodge and the Wild Beasts

Life bearing in mind this is the summer holiday seems to be very busy, and not good busy chasing the invisible Ibis through the undergrowth with a spear, that’s me with the spear not the undergrowth. Or climbing the North face of the DIY store again and planting the Union Jack and claiming it for Britain or even making an attempt on the main facade of Mount IKEA; which has still not been climbed without the use of modern high tech equipment such as scaffolding and ladders.

But as I was saying it is busy, what with major work on Zombie defences with Mr Chris the builder who all being well will be back tomorrow to finish off; and helping the Ghost Writer with his task of emptying his office, which I ended up doing again today . . . . . . PHEW. And then I was asked to go and forage for food in the garden with nothing but a small knife and my wits to track down large game such as wielder beast and crocodiles, or golden eagle. Anyway it appears the wildlife must have got scared off by a stranger sitting in a small box not saying much, because pickings were slim and I was forced as a last resort to hunt vegetables.  The Ghost Writer rightly says If it cant move don’t eat it and he has a fair point. Sadly however my booty for the day was a vegetarian’s delight, something a hunter of wild ferocious beasts would never tell anyone for fear of ridicule back in the hunting lodge (summerhouse) so I won’t write about that . . . . . . . AH DAMN . . . .  A reputation ruined

Uncle George and the beast of the Curry

I am having a quite type before we run off for a curry with Mr Charlie and Miss Jane in Monty, although by the time you read this I will have eaten the curry and returned home. If  by any chance you are reading the paperback edition purchased for a few small coins in a second hand book shop in a small back street, run by a strange old man who could be anyone including me or the Ghost Writer, then that particular curry has long been gone and forgotten about. Well I say that, but should some sort of curry critter emerge from the depths of the curry with claws and snappy teeth growling it is likely the curry will not be forgotten about quickly.

Uncle George

 However at this point in time I am uncertain which of these two options is likely to occur, although I have a suspicion as to which is more likely based on the law of averages and some knowledge of curry construction.

The Ghost Writer and I moved loads of stuff today from his old office which now looks like it has been burgled, I said it would be the ideal time to burgle the office as no one would notice, although it has nothing worth running off with left in it. But I did get a desk and a thing. Amazingly while I was away Uncle George turned up which was a serious shock to everyone because Uncle George has been dead for two years. It means though that we can’t ask him what he has been up too for the last two years because to put it bluntly Uncle George is a pile of ash. Everyone thought he was lost out in the outback down in Australia and although he had said he was planning to return to Britain at some point no one could have guessed that the poor old postman would have to pore him through the letterbox. It is a wonder he made it through customs and was not confiscated for being an illegal substance.

I have returned from the curry and sadly no critters leapt out of it, but it did taste really good. The waiter said he came from Birmingham; he seemed a chirpy chap but was unable to explain why my curry did not contain critters with pointy teeth and snappy claws. Apparently this is far from normal in the Indian restaurants of Birmingham, but he has said he will mention it too them when he is next there maybe I will start a trend………

Mr Chris the Builder and a Wall

Time is short so in that case so is my post, you see it has been an incredibly busy day as Mr Chris the builder has been here and what was going to be a nice simple job doing some minor work on the Zombie defence ditch turned into a large huge job. It appears the Zombies had undermined a wall and so we spent the day replacing this wall which was rather hard work as well as muddy and very smelly. The wall you see was supporting and holding a substantial anti-Zombie moat full of stuff that even a Zombie would think twice about wading through, so working in the moat was not nice. But it is done now, well the hard part in done now and I can sleep again knowing that we are Zombie free provided they don’t work out that if the walk round the end of the wall and moat they can attack me. Zombies are not smart though and tend to go in straight lines, a bit like the Romans did although I don’t think the Romans were Zombies because they built aqueducts and stuff and didn't play dominoes.

OK that’s it time up.

Ooooo yes tomorrow is also a rather busy day I am helping the Ghost Writer shift stuff and going out for a meal. so I will also be rather late and to the point (as in pointy sticks) tomorrow also…..  

.