The Damselfly and the Maybug . . . . . And a Bus

(17...)

We visited the local village market this morning to buy provisions such as veggies, bread, bacon, spicy sausages, butter plus a quick discussion with locals about a bus protest because the local government grant might end for the local bus to the great metropolis of Shrewsbury. Rather ironic because it is probably the busiest bus about for miles and is normally standing room only by about half way there. Still that’s politics for you a bit odd at times.  Then we had a trip to say happy birthday to our daughter and a toasted sandwich at a local grand house with a happy dog that roams about hunting toasted sandwiches

Followed by a visit to a huge greenhouse to buy some plants before heading home and doing woodwork on you know what.  Then a bowl of soup and then I came face to face with a damselfly. It was rather a friendly damselfly and was happy to chat about busses, Maybugs and ponds and the like for a bit before flying off.

After that I did stuff, watched a bit of news on the telly shouted a bit a someone discussing politics on the telly, and then told the cats they were greedy and that ten meals each a day was enough for a huge wild cat, not just your average moggies who chill all day doing almost nothing.

And finally I have been outside as it is very very still and on nights this calm things move about in the darkness. Normally it is just Zombies, but tonight it is a couple of Hedgehogs and a confused Maybug or two. As far as I can tell Maybugs are always confused and that Damselfly certainly thought so. My wife hates Maybugs due to their clumsy flying techniques and general inability to avoid humans. Some folk (such as my wife) are not keen on being hit in the face by Maybugs as they negotiate (or fail to) the night sky.

Then write diary.

Are you wondering what I did yesterday?  . . . .  So am I . . . I can’t remember.

The Birthday of JK Rowling, cakes and Soap on a Rope

Tomorrow is (I think) the Birthday of JK Rowling, well that is good timing because my blog is in JK Rowling mode at present. Well me and Harry as you know have had our little ups and downs over the last couple of years, as the regular readers will know, OK if you are like me you will have forgotten. My brain is rubbish these days and that’s for sure. Anyway the point is Harry made it to the top and I sadly languish in the depths of obscurity laughed at by the masses for even attempting to write anything good or interesting. 

Of course the great success of Mr Harry Potter means that Mrs Rowling is a rather wealthy woman and it made me think that this must be a bit of a problem for her friends and family when it’s her birthday. Now me I am happy with an old raggedy jumper from the charity shop because I can bum about and folk will not shout at me when it is attacked by stuff. Oddly I have a problem wearing clothing because stuff leaps at me as I pass it, so mud, paint, oil, grease, dust, nails and many other things all go OOOOOooo look its Rob and then leap.  

But if you are rather wealthy then what do folk get you well its tricky because unless you are even more wealthy than the wealthy person who is having the birthday then buying something nice from Marks and Sparks or getting a voucher for a plant from the garden centre or even a new smart phone (I hate them and don’t have one or want one) is a futile exercise. So what do you do? Well you are left with doing something very personal that has no link to monetary worth.  So as I wander round the local village market in the morning catching up on news about things like the state of the raspberry harvest this year I would not be entirely surprised if somewhere in the UK a Mr Rowling is muttering while attempting to bake a cake. Although he might cheat and phone Harrods up, but I imagine JK Rowling will notice if he does that because the cake might be just a bit too good with its spun sugar decoration of Hagrid pirouetting and holding a seagull.

Actually I suspect the one thing she will not want is Harry Potter based presents, I mean just how many Harry Potter Soaps on a rope can one person look enthusiastically at and still sound pleased thanking all the fans who sent them. Mine is the one with the wooden leg and the Parrot on his shoulder going . . .  HAR HAR HAR . . . RON LAD ME OLD Wizardy PAL HAR HAR HAR . . .  with the light up eyes. 

Anyway as it’s entirely implausible that JK Rowling will ever read this, so wishing her a Happy Birthday is a silly thing to do. But I often do silly things (well so my family tell me) so.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY Miss JK I hope you have a nice day.

The Surprise Birthday Party, Leaping About, Fruit, Zombies and a Hot Air Balloon.

It has been a lovely day today after what was a nice day yesterday and as it happens it is predicted to be a nice day tomorrow, so we are back with a feeling of summer again after the arrival of autumn. I know this is not very exciting is it, but as I have said many many times stuff like this happens or does not happen. One thing I have noticed mind you is there are lots of berries and fruit on the trees and there is some sort of saying about . . . Much Fruit Means Many Zombies Ahead. . . .  No sorry not that one, I mean the one about Much Fruit Means a Hard Winter.  Interestingly the saying about  . . . Much Fruit Means Many Zombies Ahead. . . .  Also means it will be a hard winter for your head as the little (OK Large) critters try and eat your brains, ironically they don't like fruit.

OK back to events of the here and how and our theme this year in volume five of my popular diary (all publicity is good publicity so they say) being the Unknown meant that we went to a surprise sixtieth birthday party for Miss L which means that it was entirely unknown to her until she was faced with family and a few good friends all singing. . . Meatloaf’s Bat out of Hell. . . . .  AH no that was later on I think we all sang happy birthday and then drank and ate and danced about having a good time.  Well as you know I don't drink alcohol so was drinking orange juice, as it happens I like orange juice although it is not good for your liver. . . . You just can't win with these things at present.

I also have a bit of an issue leaping about dancing . . . sort of dancing  . . . . .Ok just leaping about but in time with the music . . . Ok not in time with music . . . .  Although I can do Air Guitar better than Mr N he is rubbish, but then I can play a guitar (sort of) which helps. Right back to the point I have dodgy feet, meaning staying upright can get tricky and to make matters worse I am not as fit as I was in the past and leaping about leads to rapid exhaustion and a less agile panting Zombie sort of dancing. Which in turn leads to folk offering you bowls of fruit because of the old saying . . . . .  Much Fruit Means Many Zombies . . . . 

Anyway it was a grand party and as I am a unsociable grumpy bloke I was rather pleased that there were a modest number of folk rather than hundreds which would have scared me into hiding in a cupboard. It is not easy to leap about in cupboards.

OOOOOoooooooooo I have just returned from being outside watching a hot air balloon attempting to avoid landing in the woods. Not a good move as the new battery pheasants have just been released and they have not worked out yet that eating hot air balloonists is not a good move. Luckily they cleared the trees and are on their way to the Castle of the Bishop. (That’s the balloon not the pheasants although in the long run it would be in their best interest).   

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The all seeing eye of Mr Google. . . . . .

It has been a busy sort of day in cyberspace and means my diary not been written today. WHY I hear some of you say, although many others will be aware as I do pop up all over the place in cyberspace at times. Well as you will notice from the picture today has been my birthday, in fact it is also the birthday of the Ghost Writer and his is bitter and twisted because he has to watch Google telling me it is my birthday also. But is this good, I am not entirely sure I like the fact Google tells me its my birthday or that the cat wants more food or that the Zombies have been active in the woods today (they have as it happens. . . very noisy).

I have received many useful presents and I will discuss all this more another time as it is getting late and very soon it will no longer be my birthday, so sadly it is time to go again. I'm sure it is not meant to rain on one's birthday but this is Britain and the law of averages would suggest that in most cases it will rain on your birthday 99%.of the time . . . just as well we only have the one birthday a year (unless you are the queen then you get two). . .  

Oooooo yes Happy Birthday Ghost Writer  

Star Jelly, Sundays, Rain and Birthdays

Well its Sunday and as I have said many times Sunday in cyberspace is quiet much as it is the real world, today has not been helped by the continuing rain, wind and cold which continues to dominate the minds of many. Us Brits love to moan about the weather and just at present there is much to moan about.  Still Doris the Steam Powered Duck is happy enough going round and round in her pond, occasionally peering over at the star jelly which still sticks out from under the patio in a slightly menacing way. I still have not found out what this stuff is and Mr Jones is never going to convince me it’s an alien, and his attempts to communicate with the jelly substance so far has proved fruitless. Although I will say the jelly is the right colour for a fruitless Jelly . . . . HAH HAH AH HA HAH HA HAH AH HHAH AH HA H HAH  HAH HA H HAH Hha ha ha ha hah ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha

Star Jelly

The Ghost Writer and Mrs Ghost Writer, Mr Charlie and Miss Jane were here last night and we all ate curry as it is Mrs Ghost Writers Birthday today (happy Birthday Mrs Ghost Writer). Luckily this year I have been able to give her a unique present something that under normal circumstances is almost impossible to buy and would no doubt cost huge amounts of money to purchase. . . . . I have given Mrs Ghost Writer a jar of Alien Jelly although she did not look quite as pleased as I was hoping she might.

I am wondering if I could sell Alien Star Jelly on E bay it is elusive stuff and may sell for loads of money. Mind you my efforts to get the local conservationist and wildlife folk interested did not go well they apparently say aliens, particularly jelly ones are outside the parameters of their constitution and folk might laugh at them. . . . . . . . . . Well they laughed at Sir Walter Raleigh until he invented the bicycle and now look, we all use them to go to the chip shop. . . . . . . 

Star Jelly

A photo taken a few nights ago

Birthdays and other things

It has been a sunny day and although now dark the sky is still clear and the stars and half a moon are up in the night sky, I suspect someone has pinched the other half.  I noticed that India sent a rocket to Mars the other day (I cant remember if I mentioned it or not) and I have seen various comments floating about in cyberspace saying that the Indian Mars Mission is remarkably cheap in comparison to previous ones. It made me think that maybe what we need is some sort of competition like the one the Wright brothers won when they flew their helicopter over the Statue of Liberty in 1907.  We need some sort of competition to make a rocket to go to the moon, say for less that price of the average car or even  made out of an average car.

Earlier today we were at a surprise birthday party for Mr D who was 40, it was a good party and everyone had a great time and loads of good food. We left a bit early because we needed to go and see Mr M who continues to battle away poking his imaginary pointy stick at the gods to fend them off a little longer.  However since I started writing my diary many odd little coincidences have happened and I suspect that tomorrow may see yet another one. As many of you know my diary has several locations in cyberspace including my blog which is a bit like Captain Kirks Ships log on the Starship Enterprise and tomorrow’s blog post will be the 1000^th one. In blog terms this is quite an achievement (well I think so), but I can’t help but think this is going to coincide with Mr M finally loosing his battle with the gods.

If anyone is wondering about my picture tonight it is a long story but I now have to master drawing President Putin. Most of you will think WHAT but someone will not and he knows who he is. . . . . . .   

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.

The Surprise in Milton Keynes and Roundabouts

Well as you know yesterday I was away in Molten Beans which in fact turned out to be Milton Keynes, but I knew it sounded like food of some sort. And as I said we were off to see a man about certain things, which was a secret sixtieth birthday party for a very old family friend that dad used to go to school with and then they both worked at the same place for a while and then both moved about in different directions but still managed to remain in contact over the years. We then stayed in a hotel based on the rabbit warren principle which was OK as long as you tied a piece of string to your room door handle, this way you could always get back to it. Until a foolish little old lady cut it in half with a pair of scissors, why do little old ladies carry scissors anyway, its not normal. OK yes I am being distracted and that is not good.

Breakfast was an all you can eat affair with things hidden in large pots quietly bubbling away and piles of toast, cereal and crumpets as well as fruit juice and tea and coffee and so on. Bearing in mind it is an all you can eat job there was not too much fighting going on by the masses, but I think part of that is the hotel getting the fine line between food you then run off and complain about, and food that is really great so you eat loads of it all day. In other words it was OK but after three of four full English breakfasts you just think I am not enjoying this so I will go. But all in all it was OK for a rabbit warren.

The party was good too and Mr F (who was sixty) and Miss A (his wife) got a shock because he was not expecting to see us and when he saw me he shouted O MY GOD YOU'RE NOT HERE TOO AAAAaaaaAAaaaaaaauugggghHHHH but mum said it was OK as she had chained me to a table. Apparently it’s an old tradition in Milton Keynes that the youngest is chained to a table at parties, I asked a few people because it sounded a bit odd to me but they all said it was.

I am not sure how many of you have been to Milton Keynes it is an odd place to drive round as I remembered when dad starting swearing a lot, because it is full of roundabouts, hundreds of them and all the main roads are lined with bushes and trees so look identical. The result of this is that if you do not know where you are or where you are going you do go round and round in circles and round and round roundabouts all day.

Then today we have arrived home at the time we were expected to arrive home and so all is well although I have had a message from the Ghost Writer who says he has to go to work tomorrow and it is NOT FAIR . . . .

.Ooooooo Yes the fish pond is still frozen, it was like that when we left.