Drugs, Birds, Cats and a Ladder . . . . .

This morning involved a trip to a nearby village hall where one person looked at another person’s foot as folk do. After that the trip involved the collection of drugs from a doctor’s surgery. Yes it all sounds dodgy but in fact it is not even remotely dodgy. One of the things I have learnt about getting old is after about 50-ish you gain a new prescription from the docs about every 5-10 years or so, so if you reach 100 you just grab a handful and hope for the best.

On returning home I was out in the garden with the lawn mower (OOOoooo what fun). One Ecopoint to make here is keep the blade on your lawn mower as high as possible and the wildlife will generally be OK. Our garden has some very wild bits indeed and is full of beasts and birds and other critters. Those birds cost a fortune in seed, nuts and stuff too and do they care about that NO they just invite all their mates round for a party.

Now in the past I have used a gardener (OK a cheap gardener) and I was pondering why I now don’t. So I looked back through the pages (posts) of my diary and all became clear again. I don’t remember stuff so a diary is useful.

 And here it is what I had written about this many moons ago.

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A useful tip that folk may not know about is be selective with who you use as a Gardener because Ghosts, Ghouls and Gargoyles can be a little obstinate and will tend to go off and do their own thing. And saying to them NO NO I WAS THINKING OF MAYBE A CHERUB BALANCING ON THE BACK OF A DAUPHIN, SORRY I MEAN DOLPHIN; OOOOO NO A DAUPHIN WOULD BE GOOD, IN THE FISH POND (as a fountain), NOT THE FOUR HORSEMEN OF THE APOCALYPSE. . . . . . AND YES THE BLOOD RED DYE IN THE WATER IS VERY EFFECTIVE BUT WILL CLASH WITH THE GOLDFISH A BIT . . . . HANG ON ARE THOSE PIRANHA FISH. . . .

Will only make them stare at you like you are a fool and know nothing and that the new sulphur bed with its noxious gasses and sharp pointy things is now so much better than that old flower bed with its Gladioli and Garibaldi Biscuits . . . . . sorry I mean bluebells.

That’s the last time we use UNDIG Gardeners Ltd with their catchy slogan . . . . UnDig Have Risen from the Grave to help you, no job too small……….

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Yes well that was a long time ago and my wife says a gardener would be good as long as I don’t choose another cheap one. So I now do the gardening because proper gardeners are expensive. . . . . . .

As for the rest of the day . . . . I was on a roof lashing down a tarpaulin like a pirate at sea in a storm with my faithful parrot (the cat). . . . The cat has learnt to climb ladders so if I climb the ladder so does the cat. I hate heights and ladders but having a cat on your head is an added complication I don’t need.

Then finally I ate. . (spicy deep fried prawns and rice . . Yum) . . . Drunk tea and chilled and am now doing the diary.

With a cat . . . . Pesky Cat

Another day in the life of an ordinary old battered chap

It has been a busy-ish day I say ish because my old battered body just cant do the stuff it used to in the old days when I was a devil may care North Sea Tiger leaping from platform to ship to barge to rig and an assortment of things in-between. Right now I am waiting for some glue to harden up so I can carry on making a chair of a teddy bear to sit on that will be in pride of place on Saturday afternoon in the village hall as folk try the Guess the Name of the Bear competition. I am making Him/her a tall chair (comparatively) as this a village jumble sale so the poor little bear needs to be at a height where he will be seem and not lost in the chaos of Jumble. I am not sure what sort of jumble will be there but having volunteered to help I am somewhat apprehensive having seen previous jumble sales.  I don’t know about other places but round here the same stuff appears to go round in circles until folk get frightened to even turn up.

We have also managed to get to the Garden Centre in Shrewsbury where I bought two small Japanese Acer’s for £22.00 which I thought seemed a good deal. I have also managed to cut some of the grass in the back garden. . . OK it’s more a wild space than garden, but we have just over half an acre and I have never yet managed to get it all looking good at the same time. We also have a pair of pheasants nesting somewhere known to all here as Mr and Mrs Gandhi, we call all our pheasants Gandhi

OK I ran off there for a bit but I am back now

AH NO sorry I am off again I will be back in a bit.

OK back but much later

I have got a bit more done on the chair for the bear, eaten food, chilled a bi in front of the TV (as sitting behind it is silly) and I have shouted at the cats. I don’t know what they are on but the pair of them are driving me had (sorry mad, see what I mean) with their tactical battle over who can corner who in the corner.

OK that’s it that is a typical day in the life of me yet again. Exciting it is not, but on the bright side is was a lovely sunny day and I have seen more swallows and more Red Kites, we get a lot of Red Kites around here (the birds not the fabric flying device with string attached), 

The loss of cyberspace and the survival of a goldcrest

As I type this it appears I am devoid of access to the wondrous world of cyberspace which means that I cant annoy anyone what so ever in the cyber-world, not that I was planning to go out of my way to do so in particular, but being a grumpy chap one has to be prepared for the unexpected. Talking of which I have just saved a tiny Gold Crest from a fate worse than death when it hit the window right next to me as I was disposing of a few Bay Leaves having just given the bay tree (bush) a bit of a prune.  The poor little Gold Crest was well stunned so I had him, her, it, in my hand to keep it warm while I did stuff, although it does mean it is covered in plaster dust. It is not easy to do stuff with a tiny frail little critter like that in your hand so it has been put on to the summerhouse roof to recover (hopefully), I will check in a bit.

I have also just this second had a phone call to inform me tonight I am drumming so come 7.00 pm (in a couple of hours I will be engrossed in the rhythms of Africa as I play Djembe to the great gods in the sky. It is important to play to the gods and one should never just make a lot of noise for the sake of it, I mean only an IDIOT would do that . . . . . . AH DAMN. 

Well it appears the little Bird has flown off so must be OK and the internet appears to have returned so all is well again despite the fact one of the cats is wagging its tail, but it always wags its tail . . . . . . AH no hang on take everything I said about the internet being back, back. It is not back. . . . .  The joys of technology, do you know that my faithful African Drum has never once failed to work when I play it and there is not a single bit of modern technology in it.

Last night as I was about to vanish off to bed I suddenly found that my Twitter account was being followed by JK Rowling; well that was very very odd indeed, but when I checked this morning I discovered it has been followed by the wrong JK Rowling who appears to look like the other one and talks about old Harry Potter like they are old pals from the days of sitting in the café with a trusty ball point pen.  I have to say it is just a bit odd and given the choice I would prefer having a real one rather than a fake JK Rowling following me on Twitter.  Anyway there is no challenge in making a fake one like seagulls, stroking their heads as they recite . . . . Who’s a Pretty Potter then . . . . Harry wants a peanut. . . . . . .

OK well that’s about it for tonight I will be off to have a Baked Potato with cheese salad and various dressings. . . 

All I need to do now is wait for cyberspace to return.

Well that took a while and that’s for sure. . .  

The terrible tale of the Worlds Deadliest Bird

Back in 1871 when Caruthers Kipling was searching for rare Birds of Paradise in Papua New Guinea for his extensive collection of stuffed Animals, he heard from one of the local tribes of a strange bird that was feared and that they had been forbidden from even looking for, It was said by the tribe to mean certain death and they called it the Ohno bird as this is what folk generally shouted if they saw it.  Caruthers of course was keen to find it and once he started to look found it rather easily. Making note of its location he made notes and decided to have a good nights sleep before capturing the bird the following day.

Sadly the following morning he was found dead having had a heart attack in his sleep. A couple of years later the famous naturalist Sir Flyby Knight read of the bird in Caruthers Kipling’s journal kept in the archives of the Natural History Museum and set off to find the small bird.  Again he found it very easily at the location as described by Caruthers Kipling.  He set up a hide to monitor the birds but a tragic accident with his gas lamp meant he sadly died in a fire within his own hide.

This made the bird rather famous and several expeditions set off to find the small bird but all ended in tragedy when an unforeseen storm hit the area where the small bird lived.  The Ohno Bird then became known in Britain as the Grim Reaper Bird and for a while no one ventured to visit its habitat.

In 1905 an American team visiting Papua New Guinea looking for oil and mineral deposits decided to look for the bird and again found it much easier than they anticipated the small team of mining executives were rather underwhelmed by the plain little bird. We know this because they were speaking on their transmitter when a huge herd of Forest Rhino stampeded through their camp. Apparently spooked by soldier ants. It was said one of the members survived for a couple of days and did give a rather detailed description of the bird.

Over the years several adventurers attempted to capture the bird but alas all ended in terrible accidents or illness. Eventually in 1953 the flamboyant American Billionaire Harry Ramjet Jefferson decided to blow up the entire valley where the small bird lived in order to rid the world of this terrible doomsday beast. He set up an entire series of explosive charges over a range of several miles although he never saw the bird during this process,  his wife Jenny Jefferson later said he was concentrating on setting the charges and never thought about the bird. However when he hit the button to set the charges off nothing happened.  He was then forced to enter the valley, which in the interest of safety; he did alone to check the cables and igniters.  His wife later told the Press his last words were. . . . . Its all sorted Darling I'll be back in a minute . . . . . What  . . . . . Ohno. . . . . There was then a huge explosion and that was that.

It was thought this was the end of the Ohno Bird, but in 1975 three well known naturalists making a wildlife programme for the BBC entered the valley and were never seen again. And in 2002 a Japanese camera crew were somehow strangely all electrocuted by their own equipment in the monsoon rains.

A Russian team in 2013 hunting for the bird with AK47’s, antitank weapons and several crates of Vodka also all tragically died but it is thought this was not related the Ohno Bird as they were in the wrong valley.

Look Folks dont make me write any more that is three days in a row I have had to draw a picture and make stuff up on the spur of the moment.  I just cant keep it up . . . . . . . . No wonder these stories are getting a bit dodgy . . . . I mean PHEW. . . I have many other things to do you know. . . .

OOOoooo look what's that. . . . .. OHNO.

Lazy Days, Kitchens, Takeaways, Huge Birds and a Fox

I have had a lazy-ish day doing a bit in the kitchen and eating a not so good Chinese takeaway. I think they mean well, but dissolving that much sugar into your meal is a bit off putting. It’s a damn shame because it’s a nice shiny place now and they all smiled, but hey ho and tickety boo such is life in the country, the options are limited.

Anyway I have discovered pipes behind a couple of the old units that are being ripped out and replaced with the new IKEA shiny red ones. This is a slight problem no one likes pies (sorry pipes) where it would be so much easier to get on with stuff if there were no pipes. I can’t move the pipes either as they attached to large lump of metal the size of an average range style cooker. As it happens that is exactly what it is, it provides hot water, central heating and will cook stuff, although its ability to cook depends entirely on the mood it is in and we have long decided it is too temperamental to be trusted with meals.

So I will be pondering and will need to modify the new units a bit in order to make everything look like it was all planned in the first place. I suspect this is the name of the game in the world of assembling a Kitchen, behind all those neat rows of doors in every kitchen in all the world lies a myriad of bodges and tweaks to make it all look as it should. I am confident it will all be OK as there was a huge beast of a bird sat in the apple tree the size of a small sheep while I ate my takeaway. It was being pestered by a blackbird which sat  on the same branch a couple of feet away shouting and leaping about, which was brave considering it was no more that a snack for the big beast. Anyway the blackbird won as the big beast got fed up with all the noise and flew off.  I saw a Fox as well today scurrying across the road and looking like it was up to no good. It was an adult so must be a true cunning fox because about 90% of the folk in these parts will point guns and shoot Mr Fox no questions asked. . . . . 

Dr Purlieus Pope . . . . The A to Z of Slightly Strange Unknown Victorian Inventors and Explorers

Dr Purlieus Pope

A tall and elegant explorer very much in the mould of what a Victorian explorer should look like so it was strange to many of his colleagues that he got on so well with Mr Newton Newton III. But they were both interested in the everyday wildlife around them, and it was Dr Pope’s interest in the humble pigeon that led him to make his most exotic and perilous trip to the undiscovered arid wastelands of Persia. 

After reading an old manuscript about a building of great elaborateness deep in the centre of the Persian deserts,  in which it implied it was built to house the worlds most beautiful and rare pigeon, the Poisonous Puff Pigeon of Persia. He decided that he must find out if this was true or not. No one else had undertaken the journey because it was thought foolish to travel across half the world in search of a pigeon loft full of fancy pigeons when there were loads in the suburbs of Bradford where pigeon fanciers were ten a penny.

But no one could have expected the sheer majesty of the building now known to everyone as the PERPLEXED PINEAPPLE PAGODA of PERSIA with its POLYMORPHIC PLEBEIAN PERPENDICULAR PITCHED PILLARED PIVOTING Staircase.

However Dr Purlieus Pope had arrived in Persia at a time of great unrest (yes it was ever such) and the various tribal factions were all convinced that Dr Purlieus Pope was some sort of western imperialist spy  (yet again it was ever such). So before he could return to Britain someone slipped a poisoned pigeon pie into his Harrods Explorers Luxury Hamper. He made it back but was extremely ill and never got to return. He also made sure that his good friend Mr Newton Newton III arranged that his ashes after his death were scattered at his place of birth at the source of the old hill road to Stockdale. Where even today you can find a plaque commemorating his achievements as an explorer, mounted on a small bronze of a pigeon at the side of the road near ancient woodland. . 

Igor Ivanovich . . . . The A to Z of Slightly Strange Unknown Victorian Inventors and Explorers

Igor Ivanovich

Having learnt his trade as a set builder in the Bolshoi Ballet Igor Ivanovich was an expert at making a swan out of a roll of gaffer tape some old boxes and an old bicycle dragged out of the canal. And he probably would have never become an inventor had it not been for his fool hardy attempt at smuggling a set of the Barometric Bellows past the Russian customs after a tour by the Bolshoi Ballet in Britain. But he was forced to find new employment and adapted his many skills to producing sophisticated mechanical devices that appealed to the wealthy elite of Europe. As he often said . . . I hate the common man with his flat cap, football and meat pies laughing and singing in their ale houses. Yes sadly Igor Ivanovich was a bit of an elitist snob.

But he could make wonderful mechanical birds and insects which became known as  Ivanovich Intrigues and although not a practical invention they were much admired by Elizabeth Romanova who kept a large collection of Ivanovich Intrigues at her palace in Russia. For a time he was quite a celebrity, but one day as he walked to his workshop he took a short cut through one of the poorer parts of Saint Petersburg. Where he was recognized by a group of young street urchins who were keen to see one of his mechanical wonders.  However Igor Ivanovich looked at the children and stated that no device of his should ever to shown to horrid small street urchins and he demanded that they hid their heads in shame.  Unfortunately a large crowd of football supports eating meat pies and singing and laughing had just left the local ale house and overheard Igor Ivanovich’s words and it did not go down well.  When Igor Ivanovich recovered consciousness he found himself conscripted into the Russian navy for twenty five years. Sadly he never recovered from the hardship of navy life and spent his last few years locked in the Moscow State Lunatic Asylum (not one of the more enlightened hospitals of the day)  with an old bicycle wheel on his head convinced he was a penguin………… 

A day in the life of a Blogger (sort of) and the curious tale of some chaffinches

Hello I thought it is some time since I did a proper post with real information in it and so today while I am sat down with a cup of tea I decided it was time to correct my recent lack of blogging in the world of blogging. Firstly it is very definitely spring like today with the sun shining the birds twittering and plants just about to pop into life.  The moles seem to have settled a bit, because for reasons I don’t know it has been a great winter for moles there seems to be loads of them everywhere. When I say everywhere I refer to mainly underground, I have not yet seen a flying mole. And while on the subject matter of things I don’t know I am also very curious to know why we seem to have more than our fair share of one legged chaffinches turning up at the bird table, there were three of four of them there today. It’s turning into a sort of pirates convention for chaffinches, although only male chaffinches so it is all a bit odd.  Ooooo and we have a pet pheasant, hopefully once he trusts me completely, (lets face it folk have been shooting at him for months) I will be able to teach him tricks like high wire walking and juggling chainsaws (small ones).

The plan to move the living room to what was the dining room is almost entirely complete at last with almost everything new including the wiring and the floor the walls and ceiling and lights and other stuff. . .  And it has only taken absolutely ages to do, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Now we get to turn the living room into the dinning room. . . . I know it sounds a bit mad but it’s a master plan for the house, we need master plans, sort of.

I have also noticed the world of blogging is very quiet at present and I have put this down to the fact I have not posted many posts lately and everyone has gone off to do other stuff but I am back now so it OK again.

Oooooo I saw a chicken on the road this morning. . . . Sadly it did not make it to the other side. . . .  Which is interesting because I have mentioned a chicken that did not get to the other side in my forthcoming A to Z blogging challenge of Victorian Inventors (the letter A).    

Part One of Harry Potter and the Dark Clouds of Doom . . . .

Hogwarts finally appears to have settled down and the headmaster Mr Harry Potter can finally relax and enjoy some of the advantages of bringing up a family in the world of wizards, unaware of the Dark Clouds of Doom far on the horizon.

Dad. . . .

Yes Lily Luna

Why is that man writing about us again, that Mr Rob Z Tobor

I don’t know, I really DON'T know.

Well I DON'T see the point he CAN'T publish any of it and if that nice Miss J K Rowling finds out he is doing it she will sue him and make him destitute and he will have to live on the streets cold and starving. . . .

I don’t think Miss Rowling would do that she is not that sort of person and he is from Scotland

Anyway what does he mean Dark Clouds of Doom far on the horizon?

I’m sure he is just rambling; just ignore him he will go away eventually

But he killed you off once.

Yes but he brought me back to life

But he was meant to do it with lightning and you were meant to have a big bolt through your neck holding your head on, so you went aaaaaaaaaagggggg a lot.

Well that would not have been nice so I am just me.

Its not far I wanted a Frankenstein’s monster dad. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Daaaadddd the cat is flying round the kitchen light

Oh have you been casting spells on the cat again I said not to do it

It’s not my fault the dog flew away . . .  so I had to practice on the cat.

WHAT? . . . .  where is the dog.

Its not fair I want an eagle.  Why CAN'T I have an eagle? I am going to Scream and Scream and scream and scream until I get an eagle.

Outside in the central courtyard Harry’s two sons can hear loud screaming

O No it’s Lily luna again she is on about that bloody eagle again says Albus

I think we should go and find her one I am getting well stressed with all that screaming. Maybe once she has been pecked to bits she will realise what a stupid idea it is.

With that they head of into the Magic Forest where just by luck they stumble across a large eagles nest.

Well that’s a stroke of luck says Albus and look its got a chick in it we could take that back Dad and Lily Luna will be dead pleased. 

As they return home and enter Harry’s office, Harry looks up and says Bloody  ******* . . . . . . . .What the ********* are you doing with that******* it’s a baby Eagle

An Eagle, an eagle, an eagle, an eagle . . . . I love eagles says Lily Luna.

But it is a baby  giant Zombie Eagle look at the size of it . . .  it must be four feet tall. says Harry

We thought it was a bit big says James Sirius Potter.

Big Big . . .  its Huge do you know how big its parents are . . . .

I Love Eagles says Lily Luna . . . . . . .

with that a unearthly sound fills the sky above Hogwarts as the shadow of a huge flying  beast covers the ground

Do you think this might be one of those Dark Clouds of Doom DADDY says Lily Luna

TO BE CONTINUED 

The large metal post, a man, a one legged blackbird and two supermarkets.

This morning while at Tough Harry’s  Supermarket where we were purchasing stuff such as milk and fruit and veg (yuck) we arrived in the car-park to see an elderly chap in a shiny car pondering along with a couple of members of the staff a large yellow and black stripy post which he had attacked with his car.  It was one of a long line of yellow and black stripped posts that can be seen from a long way off, the particular post (a big metal post) in question was sort of tucked out the way making it hard to hit without going entirely the wrong way.

Interestingly it reminded me of shopping in both the Tesco at Inverness and M&S in Perth. Now folk in Scotland are well friendly, but for reasons I don’t know things have changed in supermarkets from the last time I was in a Scottish supermarket . . . . WOW it’s scary, a true dog eat dog affair like some sort of terrible computer game where only the death of innocent customers stupid enough to get in the way of your trolley will do.  No one smiles and although the staff are a chirpy bunch if you ask them stuff like where is the milk, AND can I get deep fried mars bars in the ready meals, the customers are demonic zombie killer beasts who hate everyone. 

Yet once they enter the street they cheer up and wave at strangers and tell you there were loads of dolphins in the bay last week . . . . . . . honest, and then tell you how to make spicy banana soup (AAAAAAaaaaaaauuuggghhhhh no YUCK YUCK YUCK).

One draw back in being of Scottish blood but having an English accent is that when you see a passing Scottish pirate ship and you wave and shout hello sailor at them they ignore you. Offering them deep fried dolphin on a stick does not help much either, even our tame one legged Blackbird did not impress them much, but he did tend to fall over quite a lot. 

U is for the curse of the Unrequited Dove

Pigeon Fancies are a strange breed of person and will do almost anything to look after their feathered friends from chase Peregrine Falcons up the street with a pointy stick to singing sea shanties in their pigeon lofts at half past two in the morning in the cold wet rain. However it is very very rare to see a hardened pigeon fancier keeping  doves, because they live in fear of the curse of the Unrequited Dove. 

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K is for Konfusing Kites (I know it's Sunday we dont do the A to Z on Sunday . . . . in May?)

As many of you know I live right on the edge of Wales these days just a stones throw away from the border in the Shropshire rolling hills (I have never seen them roll but I am told they do).  Many moons ago well a while back it was decided that the Red Kite should be reintroduced to Mid-Wales and so a breading (Breed . . . sorry Mr ESB I blame qwerty keyboards) program was started.  However few people know the tale of the confused kites.

You see back when this happened there was a lot of cross border activity between English and Welsh conservationists, which would normally be fine, but stuff can get confused in translation. Welsh conservationists like to speak Welsh, not the cursed imported tongue of the Heathen English Devil folk. But translating between English and Welsh can have all sorts of little subtle anomalies which can change things rather radically. So when the Welsh conservationists first asked their English counterparts if they minded sending a few kites over in some boxes; and the English said they had loads of spare ones and it was not a problem . . . .  they were very happy. However they were not so happy when a few days later a large box arrived full of Box Kites, well when I say not happy, Evans the Kite was as happy as Larry, he liked Box kites and spent many a happy day on the beach at Aberystwyth larking about. You can see how Evans the Kite got his name and got fired.

Of course the Welsh got rather upset and called the English Conservationists Heathen English Devil folk and said they wanted to breed kites and reintroduce then to the wild. But the English did not take kindly to being called Heathen English Devil folk so send another two boxes to the Welsh . . . . . . One said MALE and the other FEMALE, the Welsh got all excited again but when they opened the boxes they were full of Box Kites and a small note saying  . . . . GOOD LUCK . . .HA HAH AH HAH AH HA HAH HA HAH AH HAH AH Hah a ha ha ha ha ha ha ha hah ahah ah ah ah ahha ha hahaha ha ha ha ha ha ha haha.

It all got out of hand for a while and several unsuspecting English bird watches had their Welsh Hides burnt to the ground, but it was sorted in the end and now Red Kites have successfully reintroduced themselves to Wales. In fact they are so successful they are all over the DAMN place and just recently the Welsh Box Kite Association (Life President . . . Evans the Kite) complained they keep attacking their Box Kites in some sort of petty revenge for something that was not the fault of the Box Kites. Sadly box Kites still don’t breed in Wales and sightings are incredibly rare, partly due to vengeful Red Kites. 

Ooooooooooo yes I’m still having a few problems with that door. It is to put it bluntly Unhinged . . .HAH AH HA HAH AH HA HAH AH Hahh a hahah ah ah ha ha haha hahah ah ahha ha ha ha hah.   

Intelligence Agencies, spying, the Mk3 Mechanical Spy Bird and Steven Spielberg.

The British and American Intelligence Agencies have said I am allowed one more go at designing a decent mechanical spy bird or they will stop following my online diary and that will result in most of my readers vanishing (as most of them are them). But they also say that if I do a jolly good job, OK it was the British Intelligence Agency used the word jolly, Americans don’t really say Jolly a lot, if ever, they tend to say kick Ass or use slightly cruder terms such as SHIT or YO never GOOD SHOW CHAPS like us chaps in Britain, as it happens such things are seldom said in Britain much these days really, it is the changing times.

Anyway all this is by the by and of no consequence to man nor beast or spies.  What the chaps in the murky world of intelligence gathering have said, is that if I make a really good job of the Mark Three Mechanical Spy Bird they will secrete a small device under the pillow of the very nice Mr Steven Spielberg, so at night it will repeatedly repeat the subliminal message into his ear . . . . . . . . . . That Rob Z Tobor is a rather clever chap who has a cracking (if long) diary which would make a great film. Go on you know you want to; make the movie . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Well who could not be persuaded by such an offer?

So here we have the all New Mk3 Mechanical Spy Bird, as someone once famously said in a very similar position, well when I say similar it was sort of similar-ish……………. One small flap for man one giant leap for spying…….. OK he did not say exactly that but he meant to,  I think?

How come they have never let any women go to the moon it seems a bit unfair, maybe they are just not stupid enough to volunteer

Of Mice and Men, Albatross and Puffins and Mr Putin

The other day I drew a picture of a mechanical Albatross in the style of Mr Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci that could circumnavigate the entire world. At the time I suggested that it could be used by GCHQ here in Britain and NSA or the CIA in the USA to spy on folk. However these organisations have said that although the plan has merit the likes of President Putin is going to be rather suspicious if an Albatross is peering at him through the windows of the Kremlin as he talks to his generals. It appears Albatross do not sit on building in the middle of large cities watching the men and women of world power, so they said to me . . . . . .Rob you need to redesign that bird and maybe make it blend in a bit more with the environment it would be used in as a spy bird . . . . . . So I have thought long and hard about this and thought to myself, what would the great man Mr Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci do. In a flash the answer was clear the perfect choice of bird, a bird no one would give a second glance at in Moscow or Pyongyang where they could almost sit on the shoulders of men as they discuss many secret things (that’s the men not the birds) . . . . . . . . . . . Yes you have guessed it the humble Puffin.

Anyway I sent my design off to GCHQ and NSA and before you could say  . . . . . the seagulls are holding the umbella in the park today . . . (a bit of spy talk) they have sent me a response saying . . . . . . .. . . ROB Z TOBOR you are an IDIOT. . .

Well there is no pleasing some folk, I understand how Mr Da Vinci felt now when he showed his drawing of his helicopter to the king.  

Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci and the Albatross drawing

A long long time ago there was a rather clever chap called Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci, and when I say clever he was seriously clever with the added bonus of various other skills too; who drew a helicopter. Now when I say a helicopter it was quite frankly a rubbish helicopter but the fact was he sort of knew that somehow and someday folk would finally crack the idea of flight and be able to make a machine that actually achieved what he had in his mind. At the time folk just nodded and smiled and agreed, but thought the idea was crackpot, but he had friends in high places and did some great drawing and painting so no one said it was a mad idea. Anyway besides all this he was a bit of a one for undoing bodies on the quiet, and no one is going to argue with someone who dismantles the bodies of ordinary folk going about their daily business.

 

Anyway I thought if I was to draw a flying machine in the style of Mr Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci then maybe in about five hundred years time folk will say, that Rob Z Tobor was not as mad as everyone thought he was (although he was rubbish at typing and spelling). OK I know what you are thinking . . . . . Yes the flying machine has sort of been invented and well and truly used for all sorts of stuff, very true but no one has made a mechanical flying Albatross yet that can circumnavigate the world and arrive back home as fresh as a daisy (to use yet another silly saying). OK Yes I can now hear you asking why, well for one thing it is the ultimate spy machine, who would suspect an Albatross sat on the window sill of a high powered meeting, sort of listening and recording everything while it nibbles a bit of fish. And like the laser which when invented had no practical use but has thousands now, the manmade Albatross will become as common a sight in the homes of the masses as the real Albatross is today . . . . . . . . . . AH DAMN.

OK so the point is I have drawn the mechanical Albatross to ensure that at some point in the future folk will look at it and say . . . . . . Well he was NOT mad. . . . .  

  

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Scratch and lick Christmas Cards, Hieroglyphics and a Sparrow Hawk

The most observant of you will have noticed that I did not write a diary post yesterday as I had been busy and was tired, but the drawback to this is that I can’t now remember what I did. This is one of the reasons I started this diary in the first place so that I could keep track of what I have done.  I do know that one of the ways to remember stuff is to put it all into a journey or story with images and associations with strange little things, but my story has got rather long

It may well have been yesterday that I was attempting to teach hieroglyphics to small children as part of the Zombie defence classes.  This is a useful skill as Zombies can just about read hieroglyphics (although not spell it) as they are taught this by their Mummies HAH HAH HAHH HAH H HHAH HA HAH HA HAH HAhha ha ha ha ha ha ha hahah ah ah aha hah ah ah ah ah ah ha ha ah. Just to prove a point while talking about Hieroglyphics I forgot to mention that a couple of days ago while looking out of the window at a small Robin eating seed, a Sparrow Hawk swooped down and grabbed it and flew off with it, nature is rotten sometimes.

Anyway today involved a trip to Montgomery, swapping a packet of soap powder for a packet of soap powder of the same type, moving some small sticks, and picking up three blue bags and then putting three blue bags down again and putting some recycling into a recycling skip. I will not elaborate on any of this in any great detail because it would scare off the very nice Steven Spielberg who to the best of my knowledge has never shown any inclination to make a film involving the swapping of soap powder. Mind you this is just the kind of small detail that aliens would show great interest in  as it is a clear sign of intelligent life rather that the dog eat dog lifestyle of nature in the raw, or should I say Sparrow Hawk eat Robin.  If I was to draw a Sparrow Hawk on some of those rather boring Robin Christmas cards and add a bit of tomato ketchup for effect, I could send them to friends for Christmas. They would be like those scratch and sniff cards or in this case scratch and lick . . . . . . .WELL COOL . . . . .

AH mum has just said IDIOT

OOoooooooooo yes it was rather frosty this morning…..

The Demise of the Zombie and Faulty Small Birds

I did my good deed today I put my head down into the sewage system to work out what was going on as I said I would in my moment of rashness yesterday. My first thought was that an enterprising Zombie may have been trying to sneak through some of the outer perimeter Zombie defence systems, but not everyone in the village is convinced that Zombies even exist. Something of a shock really as tiny rural villages in the hills are really the last place Zombies have to lurk about and scare folk, once they are doomed to disbelieve here then their end is nigh. Well I guess that would save me a lot of digging, but all the same . . . .

Of course I blame modern film making techniques with all their fancy computer generated graphics where they are so keen to make it  look real (plastic) that it ruins a good Zombie or Vampire. It maybe OK for that Luke Spywalker and all his infinity and beyond but the scariest monsters in the movies are the old ones using real stuff and a bit of mud and gore. Anyway it’s the thin edge of the wedge because once folk don’t believe in Zombies, Vampires and banshees, the next step is fairies, elves and Santa and garden gnomes consigned to the skip.

AH yes I got distracted it appears the sewer system may be suffering from an inadequate fall in pipe work as far as I can tell, but then I only go down them to search for Zombies and look what has happened to them.

I also attempted to continue making small birds but I was trying something slightly new and it did not entirely work as planned.  Yet another shock, I know I have never tried this idea before but as the greatest maker of cardboard sculpture in the world the discovery that a new idea does not work first time is a serious blow to my street credibility and therefore it is best I do not tell you about it or photograph a faulty small bird . . . . . . . .AH DAMN.

The Birds, the Bird Cage and the Hubble Traveller.

It was coldish today although not as cold as yesterday, this allowed me to leap into a muddy hole and also wave a pointy stick about in a moderately enthusiastic way. I have also started to make a small flock of cardboard birds and have some special paper to cover them in; this is I have been told magic paper and the small cardboard birds will be capable of flying once complete. So I have obtained a suitable bird cage that was taken from a Moroccan palace deep in the High Atlas Mountains by a traveller many many years ago and has been hidden away in a secret place far from prying eyes as the prince who owned the cage, who was not amused and threatened the humble traveller who ran of with it with a fate worse than death. I once went to a village fate myself that was like that so I can understand why the humble traveller hid the rather posh bird cage.

In a moment of rash madness this morning before my brain had entirely got to working speed I volunteered to stick my head into a sewage system to give my expert opinion tomorrow. Folk know that I tend to have a weakness for deep dark muddy holes, but just maybe I might have made a mistake as the other chap who was asked ran off screaming saying o god no not that one again. I will no doubt report back tomorrow, although it should be remembered I am no longer writing my diary everyday despite what it may look like superficially on the surface. 

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The Great Gazebo Grab and a Pair of Partridge

It appears the weather has gone mad again in the UK, sunny one minute and pouring with rain the next and on a couple of occasion’s heavy hail so it has been very confusing indeed. It also made our raid to dismantle a gazebo in a garden rather a mixed affair. When we got there to do the deed it was lovely and sunny, but once I removed a few screws committing me to dismantling the entire thing I was attacked by rain and then hail. It appears I was the main man to dismantle the gazebo and the others said they would act as lookouts to ensure the gazebo grab was a success. Unfortunately due to the weather I had to abandon the last two posts and they are still in the ground, I then loaded up the getaway car while the others maintained a lookout for passers by, aliens, possible zombies and maybe the odd gorilla. We were after all in the garden of the gorilla gardening trip. It appears that it has been deemed by the powers that be that the gazebo was in fact the wrong sort of gazebo and had to go.

I have to say it can be quite a squeeze getting 28 people and a gazebo in a car and not appear suspicious but as the weather at that point was rubbish no one noticed legs arms and heads hanging out of windows and doors except a couple of partridges who were chasing food as we arrived home. So we did have a successful gazebo grab and as long as I don’t write about it we will have committed the perfect crime. . . . . . . . AH DAMN.

Apparently there is a master plan afoot to get the remaining two posts which right now appear to look like goal posts so no one will notice that a huge wooden Trojan Gerbil has vanished, (how can a plan be afoot anyway? . . . . .  silly saying).

The plan (the other bit of the plan) is to turn the Trojan Gerbil into something more useful, mum has suggested a packing case for dads weather machine which dad insists has only gone wrong because a new cat up the road has taken to sleeping in the micro condensing filament tube aligner and so every time it rolls over the degaussing flux coils deactivate. I can see how that might happen; it would be very annoying if the world’s weather was destroyed by a sleeping cat. Although cats are a bit like that.

The land where pheasants and Snow Zombies die

We have reached the point where snow is vanishing quite quickly now, I think I can safely say that most people have had enough of the snow, it may look nice but this is Britain and we are not genetically or mechanically or administrablely (?) designed for long term snow. The pheasants who were looking a little more perky this morning as the snow started to vanish off their field got into a bit of a panic when men with guns started shooting at them, the poor old pheasants having first been chased with men with dogs. And although the dogs were young and quite bouncy the men were old and not bouncy, which sort of gave the pheasants a chance to turn back, and at least a few got to escape over the road while one or two hid in our garden (not in the big muddy cold hole).

In previous years myself and the pheasants have done a re-enactment of the classic film The Alamo, where we are not the Mexicans; as in the remake they are the ones with twelve bores and 4X4’s, today we were all caught out by surprise. Pheasants without a leader are not organised, although I will say they are very democratic and tend not to fight each other over food like most other birds.

This brings me to another event in the day our bird watch as part of the RSPB national bird watch this weekend, we are not keen bird watchers they are a strange lot who will spend hours hiding in a shrub with binoculars peering into an oak tree looking for a lesser spotted pied corn crake or the like. But we thought we would do our bit, one hour watching through the patio doors recording what landed, this can be done anytime this weekend so why not have a go if you are in the UK. I would not recommend the dogs cunning plan of covering the bird table in glue and then coming back an hour later and doing a quick tally it will only lead to trouble when next doors cat is found stuck fast to the bird table with an eagle in its mouth.  It appears that my knowledge of birds is a bit limited so all the small birds I recorded as blue tits and anything larger was a golden eagle, I saw twenty seven golden eagles last year which lead to the arrival of 300 twitchers with huge telephoto lens on their cameras desperate to see them. Luckily dads steam powered pterodactyl still worked and we were able to keep them happy and the dog made a few pounds selling bacon butties.

OK back to now, after that I sort of came to a grinding halt because the weather is in a state of transition so my brain is thinking spring, sun, warmth, so I leapt outside to find I am standing is soft sludgy snow and ice with the occasional pheasant with his head stuck in it pretending to be an ostrich, apparently the men with guns don’t shoot ostrich, but only because the dogs cant pick them up and take them back to the men with guns. So I am now hiding inside waiting for spring and the sun…….. Maybe I should have left the pheasants outside they are not house trained.

Oooo and as I type the rain and wind has arrived, I don’t know whose rain we have pinched over the last few months but you can have it back now we don’t mind. . . . . My diary is turning into a weather forecast again sorry.

Ooooo goodbye snow zombie 

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That is a very cool bird 

HA HAHAHH AHhah hah ah ha hah ah hah hah hahah hahhah 

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