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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Mr M and fields of mud

I did not get to write my diary entry last night as Mr M has got weaker and has been given only a couple of days to live, so we headed off to see him and collect his son who had spent the day travelling up on trains from London. So we had to battle up the track to Mr M’s house in the dark and rain, but the trusty car made it again, although I am not sure that the trusty car is entirely happy about going to Mr M’s house.  We will be heading off to see Mr M again a bit later on, so we are slightly in limbo waiting for some news and making a few phone calls.

At present it is rather muddy outside so it is difficult to do anything such as poke about in holes with pointy sticks as the holes are full of water and/or mud. The ground is also far too muddy to chase Zombies about and wave pointy sticks at them, particularly as I do not really possess suitable mud fairing footwear to run about in mud.  I am told that the hospital would not entirely be happy if I turn up to see Mr M covered in mud and water with a pointy stick with bits of Zombie hanging off it and they might make me wait outside.

I have also got my White Falcon out of its case (it is not a falcon but a guitar) as it is some time since it has been out of its case and guitars do like to see some daylight and get a chance to stretch their legs (sorry pegs or is it strings). It is entirely the wrong guitar to take into a muddy garden too as it is sort of the wrong colour and as near as damn it the diametrical opposite of mud.

I may return later depending on events and time.

Mud, trucks, Curry and Corrugated Steel.

It is getting late; we sat down to eat a takeaway Indian curry from the rather good Indian restaurant in Montgomery some time ago and then chilled (as in relax not get cold), after a busy day.  It was a bit of a shock first thing this morning as we had to get up earlyish and head off to Mr M’s house to help move beds and shift corrugated tin sheeting and wood, we teamed up with Mr S and Mrs E (formally Miss I) who had been given a load of corrugated tin sheeting and wood by Mr M who is poorly in hospital. All sort of went well until it was time for Mr S and Mrs E to head off which involved turning a small truck round to get it back down his very dodgy track, and it sort of got stuck in the mud. It is very very muddy at Mr M’s house so this was not ideal and despite using planks and the like the truck was well stuck, so we had to resort using our trusty car to help without getting the car stuck also. This proved to be successful although we were all a bit done in afterwards and Mr S and Mrs E had to then whiz off to unload and return the truck to its home.

We then sorted a few things in Mr M’s house as his son is due to arrive for a couple of days, up from the great metropolis tomorrow.  And then we went off to see Mr M although he was not all that good today and had only eaten half a dried scone all day.  We were not with him too long as other visitors arrived so we returned home we were definitely flagging by then (that’s getting tired not waving flags)

It has now got very windy and wet which was what was meant to happen on the day of the great storm but did not, these things tend to happen on the English Welsh borders all the time stuff happens down south and then many moons later it turns up here. It is rumoured that we are one of the few parts of the world left where our phones are still connected to walls with wires and we heat our houses with sheep’s legs (sorry I mean logs).

The Ghost Writer also found something he made twenty years ago that he cant remember making although it is plainly clear he made it because he put his name on it, although he will admit he cant remember what he was called twenty years ago, but he thinks it was the same as he is called now, well that’s not very nice………..

I hope this makes sense my brain is not entirely working 100% due to a busy day.   

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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Steven Spielberg and The Pit of DOOM

You are all going to moan a lot but I intend to start today’s diary with a bit of weather news, yes yes  go on then all moan then, but there is a reason because here at least all the snow has finally gone. But it has not been a great day, because we started with loads of sun WOW SUN and after breakfast it was suggested that maybe a nice trip into a large muddy hole might be a great way to spend the day . . . . . .AH DAMN.  I tried the re-enactment of the film Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom where I was planning to be Mr Jones, only Mr Jones the alien hunter said he should really be Mr Jones. I did point out he did not have a hat or any other clothes for that matter and he also said he was not getting into the muddy cold wet hole, as he is expecting more aliens very soon. It appears spring is a good time for aliens as they migrate north across the milky way back to planets that are starting to get closer to the geometric-centre of the universe and everything.

Hang on none of this is important, because as I was saying I was in a muddy hole looking for ancient artefacts in an effort to re-enact the film Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, and it was not fairing well particularly when it started to blow a gale and rain very hard (I hate hard rain) so in the end the re-enactment turned in the abbreviated film DOOM or possibly The Creature From the Black Lagoon. That happened when the neighbours saw me heading back to the house covered in mud and slime; they screamed a lot locking themselves in their garden shed shouting DON’T EAT US. Luckily the dog recognised me, well the hat anyway so I managed to get in. Then the sun came out again but before I was sent back into the muddy hole it rained again, followed by sun then rain and so on all day long, it was very confusing and it was and is still cold.

So I have now stopped and am on strike, I think as and when I am sent down into the muddy hole again I need to think of some more films to re enact like The Pit and the Pendulum or Watership Down (a muddy hole).  . . .HAH AHHAH HHAH HAH hah ah hah ah ahah haha

I really don’t know what has happened to that very nice Steven Spielberg these days, he keeps making the wrong movie, my agent has been back in contact again although I think calling Mr Spielberg an IDIOT was a bit of an error (I’m really sorry Mr Spielberg you are a very nice man my agent is a bit hot headed).

   

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