The Great Unspeakable Monster of the Underworld.

Harry Potter is not Dead he is just Nesting

AHAh ah ahah ah ah ah ah ah ah h ahaha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

ha ha ha ha ha ha haha ha ha ha ha ha ha 

Yesterday as we all know was Valentines Day and here in the village this means that we all meet in the village hall and have a traditional Sunday lunch, which is grand. Now being a very rural location what this tends to mean is that folk pile their plates up and eat huge amounts of food. In fact the amount of food folk can get on a plate can be a bit scary, but they seem to manage to eat it all. However all that eating of all that food has the slightly undesired effect of many folk needing to take a trip to the village hall toilets. Sadly the village hall toilets are not as efficient as one might like so when they get used on mass then certain masses get stuck in places they should not. This in turn leads to a degree of panic as water levels rise in the toilets rather close to overflowing while folk scream and run about.

Well the thing is as some of you might remember in a moment of madness a while back I said I would sort out the village hall toilets as my good deed for the community. . . . Yes that was very mad indeed. So as I was eating my cheesecake, ice cream covered in cream yesterday a voice whispered in my ears the loos are blocked and it’s horrible. Well there was little I could do yesterday so this morning on what has turned out to be the sunniest day of the year, I set about my task of sorting out the blockage in the pipes. The sun shining down from above and a huge unspeakable black monster of doom peering up at me from below, turning my spot stood in the car park into midway between heaven and hell.

Anyway after a bit I sent the demons of hell back down the forbidden pipes of the underworld and wandered home to tell all of my great ordeal as I fought the great unspeakable monster. The thing is no one wanted me to speak about it and said it would put them of their dinner, but I did point out the great unspeakable monster mainly consisted of yesterdays valentines dinner and it was alright for them but I had, had to fight the beast and encourage it back into the underworld.

I also took a brief trip into the Castle of the Bishop today where I looked at wool and pointed at some other wool.  And I drew a picture of a cursed wizard because I rather liked the image although all I can say is I bet he was not as cursed as I was this morning; that is one monster you will not see on stage (well I hope not. . . . Potter Poo YUCK.)  . . . . . .     

The True Story behind the John Lewis Christmas Advert (2015)

Once upon a time not very long ago there was an old grumpy man who lived in old wonky house right in the middle of a posh housing estate which was full of advertising agency executives, and various directors of large multinational companies and their families.  They where not keen on the old grumpy man and he was not keen on them.  Then one day a very strange thing happened a small sink-hole opened up over night in the front garden of the old man's house. He was quite pleased and thought he could finally get rid of a load of old rubbish he had lying about in the garden that the neighbours had been complaining about.

Well after he had thrown all sorts of stuff into the hole such as the old rusty bike, the old mattress and bedstead and a few battered bits of furniture and various other stuff he realised that the hole was very very deep. In fact he could not see the bottom of the hole even with all his rubbish in it so he thought he better complain to the local council and get them to fix it. Well lots of council workers turned up and peered down the hole and dropped lines down the hole and even got a scientist to look at it but no one could work out how deep it was.

Of course the council were not happy so they decided they were going to make a big concrete lid to cover it up to protect the public while more research was carried out. telling the grumpy old man he would put up in a posh hotel until things were resolved. He was very happy with this, but the night before the men were due to arrive to do the work and seal the hole, the grumpy old man took one last look down into the deep dark hole when something happened.

You see that night it had been announced on the news that NASA had discovered a pile of rubbish on the Moon that looked like someone had been fly tipping. The West blamed the Russians (they do that a lot) and said it was them but they denied it (they do that a lot) and said it was China who in turn blamed North Korea who said it was indeed them and that they now owned the moon.  However the little girl who lived next to the old man saw the picture of the rubbish and recognized it as the stuff the grumpy old man had thrown down the hole in his garden. It so happened she did not like the Grumpy old man much because he kept complaining about her cat to her parents who would then blame her and tell her off. So as the old man took his last look into the hole she sneaked up behind him and pushed him in

The next morning as the workmen turned up to cap the sink-hole they found the little girl dropping a present into the hole attached to a load of balloons telling the men it was for the man on the moon and he was called Dave and was a bit grumpy.

She then ran home and told her dad (an advertising executive with John Lewis) that she had sent a present to the man on the moon. . . He then suddenly leapt up from the breakfast table and said I have just had a brilliant idea. Well the little girl (his daughter) was not entirely happy because she said it was her idea and it was a true story, but by then he had rushed off to work. But she did get some satisfaction that night as she peered up at the Grumpy Old Man stuck on the moon with her telescope waving to him and laughing hysterically. Sadly the grumpy old man’s eye sight was not good and he thought it was his granddaughter who was on her gap year hiking in North Korea.  

Apparently NASA are now planning a rescue mission but it may take some time. . . . .  

  

Professor Brian Cox, the Muddy hole and the Haynes Zombie Survival Owners Manual

As yesterday was my birthday it means that today I am an entire year older than I was yesterday, now that’s a lot but its OK because as we all know now by eating Bacon Butty’s I have proved conclusively that I will live to the approximate age of 3489.2 years old.  OK it may not be conclusive because lots of folk here have said my maths was rubbish and it was like trying to understand Einstein written in Chinese backwards while riding a unicycle blindfolded. 

As a special Birthday treat I have been allowed outside to dig holes and hunt for Zombies, this is always a good way to pass the day, sliding down the muddy banks while some sort of monster or the like snarls at you. All I can say is never enter a muddy hole without a pointy stick, interestingly this is not  a useful tip I have seen in the Haynes Zombie Survival  Owners Manual (a grand book) that I received yesterday as a present from Mr F.  I have a feeling the reason it is not mentioned may be to do with the fact I spend more time in muddy holes that the average chap. It was never my intention in life for this to happen, but life is like that, you look into the future, see a mountain to climb, set off on your quest head help high full of ambition and enthusiasm and then all of a sudden you slip into a muddy hole.  Anyway I quite like them now they are bright warm cosy places (sorry I mean cold dark wet places), a small and interesting mini world of things (worms).

While I was sliding about in the muddy hole fending off Zombies and the like I noticed that in real life Zombies are a little less stereotypical in appearance than many publications would have you believe.  And I am still not sure if the one with a bolt through his neck was a Zombie or not, but he was definitely not friendly and said he wanted to eat Brian’s. . . so I was able to send him on his way a bit confused, but happy with the instructions to get to Brian’s house. I sent him to see that nice Professor Brian Cox, he is always doing experiments with electricity and the like on folk. I’m sure he will be interested in a chap (monster) with his head held on with a bolt. . . . . . . . . 

  

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The Devil is in the Detail and a Huge Hole

I could write loads but I have decided that tonight I will not, because I have been busy busy busy cutting chopping and moving stuff in the garden in readiness for the arrival of Chris the Digger and his Digger. I have plans to dig another hole because I like holes and it is all part of a great master plan, we should all have master plans and mine involve  huge holes where I will hide my secret base so I can take over the world in a coo-less pigeon (sorry a Political Coup).

Anyway I still have to fine tune my plans and as someone once said The Devil in in the Detail..

Yes sorry tonight picture was drawn in 10 minutes max so is a bit iffy. One could even say the Detail is not in the Devil. . . . 

     

R is for Rut

I have been busy today making a rut. . . . . Yes a rut, not a hut. And there are good reasons for this that I’m sure folk will agree with. You see us human beings are creatures of habit. Folk may say they are not and they like to be spontaneous and non conformist, but there is much myth in this, and like all creatures that like to live in large colonies, some of which bear (or bare) a striking resemblance to a termite mound, we are rather predictable. Some folk may find this depressing, but it is biologically built into our DNA because if we all went off doing spontaneous stuff all the time the world would fall into anarchy and chaos. Much like a termite hill would if all the worker termites decided to take up water polo or making models of Elvis. 

However there is one thing I am always told that should not befall us, and that is to get into a rut, this is a sort of valley which means it is difficult to get out of like a model scalextric racing car on its track. Which would imply that once you are travelling very fast you will suddenly fly off and hit the bookcase? I have a feeling this may have happened to me once, but I was unaware of the reason at the time.

But in a moment of genius today where I remembered that Baldrick in the last of the Black Adder series set in WW1 decided that if he was to scratch his name on a bullet and hang on to it he would know where the bullet with his name on was and so would be safe.  So today I thought to avoid the risk of getting in a rut I would make the rut where I could plainly see it and avoid falling into it. I also thought some sharp bends would held just in case so if I do fall in I can run at speed and fly out of the rut in the sharp corner and hit the bookcase again.  I built the rut on the front lawn which is (was) nice and flat where I can easily see it to avoid falling in. It has obviously impressed the entire family who when they saw my efforts left them totally speechless, muttering stuff about IDIOTS and spades. I have explained it needs more work and a man with a mini-digger to really turn it into something really memorable a sort of Grand Canyon of Ruts. It is clear they totally agree as they sort of nodded and pointed at it a lot.

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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Rob Z Quatermass and the Pit, also starring Mr Jones as Mr Jones

Dad has always said it is good to finish the job you start so I was sent down into the deep dark damp smelly pit to remove the last huge bit of root, which luckily I was able to do highly successfully. Interestingly though under the huge root was the edge of a large silver disk that gently hummed, WELL COOL. I was clearing the mud off it when Mr Jones saw it and said what ever I did not to poke at it with a sharp stick as this was an alien spacecraft and these were seriously grumpy aliens, who have been known to destroy whole planets because someone has poked their spacecraft with a pointy stick.

Rob Z Quatermass and the Pit

So Mr Jones shouted into the deep dark damp smelly pit . . . . TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER, but the large silver disk just hummed at him and did nothing. Anyway as we waited I got bored and had sort of sharpened a pointy stick to a nice sharp point and thought, maybe if I just jabbed at it (the large silver disk) a couple of times they might wake up and chat to Mr Jones.

Mr Jones said that was a bit of an error so after a quick assessment of the situation we both decided to runaway rather fast.

Yes I know I sort of poked at them a bit with a pointy stick but don’t blame me if they turn up and eat you, its not my fault, it appears they are grumpier than I thought they might be……

OK I must run . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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Muddy Holes, Roots and Chainsaws

Today was the start of half term,  I know I sort of vary between the Welsh holidays and the English ones but I do live right on the border and after all the school is now an academy and as head boy I guess I can have holidays when ever I like. Yes I am still head boy despite several votes to remove me, but since dad has been bribing the selection committee with plain brown envelopes full of money the headmaster cant get rid of me. Apparently dad says its what parents do because the alternative is going to parents evening which is full of parents and depressed teachers which would be awful. 

So, here we are the at the end of the first day of the holiday, which was dry and even sunny at times and so I was sent down the large muddy cold wet dark hole in the garden again. It seemed a bit unfair to me but dad explained that as I have done most of the work in the muddy cold wet dark hole it would be terrible if he ruined all my effort and toil and got onto it. I did say I didn't mind but he said he knew I was just saying that to make him feel better about it. 

I did finally manage to get the large bit of root out of the muddy cold wet dark hole by using the chainsaw which was super sharp but which is now blunt wet and muddy, you see chainsaws hate water and mud, both of which are in abundance in the muddy cold wet dark hole. This now means I have finally sorted half of the muddy cold wet dark hole and once I have managed to remove a huge half ton concrete slab from the other half I can start all over again . . . .  O GOODY such fun . . . . . . .

  

I also got to do a bit of tongue and groove panelling which is almost finished for the moment; I have a small fiddly bit by the door to the utility room to do. I think I have one more strip to do and then it is done until a new hob and oven is fitted, luckily I don’t have to do that . . . . . . . . .AH DAMN.

One other thing I have noticed is that we have a mole in the garden; I am not sure if this is a classic case of if someone digs a hole then all the other hole diggers think oooooooo that must be a good place to dig holes I will go over there. 

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Muddy Holes, Chainsaws and the wrong kind of Mud

Today is Saturday and it was a leisurely start to the day, it was also something of a shock all round I suspect to most of us living in  Britain because the sun was shinning there was no wind and it looked like a beautiful day. I will say looked because viewing this from a classic seventies bungalow with huge double glazed widows is deceptive. And on going outside to take in what looked like the first day of spring was in its self a shock as a thousand sharp pointy points of frost stabbed through my clothing making the point it was rather cold.  So with the weather sunny but bitterly cold it was decided by a show of hands that the best person to send into the muddy hole was me. There was one vote against me going into the growing muddy hole but that turned out to be me, it was not all bad (just mainly bad) because one of the reasons that the muddy hole is muddy and not draining water away as it should is a huge willow tree, the one removed by the mad axe man with chainsaws a bit back had grown roots into the muddy hole, Large roots ones so large even a nice sharp saw was not adequate. So I got to use a chainsaw to cut some of the roots away. WELL COOL.

Now using a chainsaw in a muddy wet cold and as it happens very smelly hole might be fun but there was one thing I had not considered about this. You see a chainsaw blade rotates rather fast in order to cut through the roots which were up to six inches in diameter, and the muddy hole is full of mud and water and stuff. The blade rotates in such a way that the side that cuts on the bottom of the chainsaw is coming towards you and a fast rotating chainsaw blade coming into contact with smelly muddy mud and water as it cuts the root means that the smelly muddy mud and water is sprayed straight at you. This is not nice and being covered in smelly muddy mud and being told that you are not allowed back in the house with smelly muddy clothes on that are sort of dripping things off them is not ideal, particularly when a dog, two cats and dad are rolling about in hysterics pointing at you from the warm side of the huge double glazed windows of a classic seventies bungalow and it is rather cold.

I did make it back into the house, otherwise I would not be writing this now but there is more root to be cut out of the cold wet muddy hole using the chain saw which is fine except I know what will happen next time now. Dad has said in order to give me a sporting chance of not having to go into the hole we can play Scissors Paper Stone . . . . . . . . . . . .AH . . . DAMN.

Oooooo yes I had the worlds best fish and chips last night YUM.

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Global Warming, a large muddy hole and a master craftsman

It’s a funny old world; there I was all ready to go off to school and ponder global warming, which is always very hard when you need to be taken to school on the back of a snow plough wearing tennis rackets on your feet and a woolly hat with pointy ears.  We should be contemplating global warming in the summer when it is hot, OK wet and cold . . . . . . . . . I know it’s all very complicated but I am hoping we might just get some of that greenhouse effect on the Welsh English border this year. Anyway as I was saying there I was in my school uniform with tennis rackets on my feet and a woolly hat with pointy ears and a knitted duck on the front when I was suddenly excused school by dad and thrown into the cold wet muddy hole in the garden. It was a bit of a shock, but luckily I found I was not alone as our good friend and master craftsman Chris the Builder was also in the hole. He was very pleased to see me and asked me straight away why have you got tennis rackets attached to your feet, I did try to explain they were snow shoes but I got the impression he thought I was mad. Still as Chris found out snow shoes also make good mud shoes as we pondered the hole and what to do I notice he was getting shorter all the time not ideal when you are already standing in the middle of a muddy hole.

Then after much scratching of heads digging of mud, pointing and shaking out heads for a bit leaning on shovels and a few cups of tea we hatched a plan, we will look at the hole again in a few weeks.

Home 27th May 2012

The result of all this standing and getting wet and cold in a large muddy hole plus the fact that at school I would have been writing my thesis on the environmental side effects of global warming made me wonder about when we last had some decent hot weather. One of the great advantages of writing a daily diary observing the world and my place in it in great detail without elaborating on the truth, is that I can look back and say with certainty what happened when. So I can say that back on the twenty seventh of May we were in the middle of a few days of extreme heat, and I even have photographic evidence and by the 2^nd June it started to rain.  One thing that is clear from this is that it should have stopped raining or snowing by now because six to seven moths of it is just not fair. Oddly back on the 27^th May I was complaining about the heat and how it was far to hot and by the 3^rd June I was complaining about rain and cold and what this proves conclusively is that I am genetically British, Only the British complain about the weather this much regardless of what the weather is………..  

And please note that I think all is sorted with making comments again on the Blog . . . . . .PHEW

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The Aerodynamics of the Mad March Hare and how to teleport a spider

Well there I was having a busy day of Theoretical Mathematics, The history of the Byzantium Empire in History. The Economics of a double dip recession and Quantitive Easing in Economics.  The Aerodynamics of the Mad March Hare in Natural History. And how to teleport a spider from one large glass jar to another five feet away in Physics by modifying two old microwaves, rather than using Esmeralda’s steam catapult made for the school goat. I think Esmeralda had not thought about the fact that the spider was slightly less than half the weight of the school goat and so the headmaster was rather annoyed by the large hole in the ceiling. The Spider was rather annoyed at finding himself in the freezer section of the out of town supermarket too and as he is a rather large spider as I said about half the weight of the school goat who is, to put it bluntly a bit fat from living on school dinners and sacrificial pupils (Ooooo sorry I was not meant to mention that was still going on……..DAMN sorry Headmaster). Anyway yes the spider was rather annoyed and it was a bit of a shock for the supermarket staff who thought at first it was the goat, but realized when an innocent bag packer was spun into a ball of silk and taken off to a quiet corner to be eaten later. The only good thing is they will appreciate the arrival of the goat a bit more next time, once they have worked out how to get a large spider out of the store.

What was I saying AH yes I was having a busy day, then arriving back home thinking Ooooooo goody I can chill and have a quiet time looking at Mars (OK I have not given up yet I am stubborn) and pondering nice gooey food with thick cream and hundreds and thousands on. When all of a sudden I am in a muddy hole digging mud helping sort out some drainage that needs sorting.  Surely that’s not fair I am not meant to be in muddy holes in winter when it is not only wet and muddy but also cold. Still as the dog says life is all Mud and Sun 

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