Archive for the 'Around the garden' Category

Irish summers

Grandad May 6th, 2008

To those of you not familiar with Irish weather, we have two kinds of summer here.

The normal summer lasts from May until September.  It is typified by grey skies and rain.  Occasionally, it stops raining for a couple of days, and we call that a drought.  That is when the hose-pipe bans are put in place and we are asked to conserve water.  People complain about the cold and the rain and the standard greeting in the street is “are we ever going to get a summer?”   The rain is invariable at its worst when there is an open air concert planned or when people book their annual leave.

The other is a rarity and it is what we call a heatwave.  This is when the sun shines and the temperature rises above 16 degrees.

During a heatwave, everyone goes mad and goes around wearing next to nothing.  They complain about the heat and how their gardens are drying up.  On the rare occasions when heatwaves coincide with weekends, they pile into their cars and all head for Brittas Bay.  When they get there, they complain about the crowds, and then on the way home again, they complain about the traffic jams.  After two days of this they are muttering about how they wish it would cool down a bit because the heat is killing them.

Heatwaves usually occur in the lead up to the end of year school exams, thereby ensuring that no study is done.  They also usually occur mid-week, when everyone is at work anyway.  They rarely occur when people take their annual leave.

We are enjoying the End of Year Exam Heatwave at the moment.  It is expected to last until Thursday.  But then it may end tomorrow, or Friday.  It’s unlikely to last until Saturday, because people will be off work then.  Heatwaves rarely last more than a week.  Another one should be due at the beginning of next month because that is when the exams actually take place.

Unfortunately, this time, the heatwave coincided with a bank holiday.  This led to the entire transport infrastructure grinding to a halt as everyone frantically headed for the seaside.  Rumour has it that nobody actually reached the beaches at all.  They just sat in their traffic jams until around mid afternoon when they all turned around and went home in disgust. 

I stayed at home and did some gardening.  The estate was getting a bit out of hand as it has been sopping wet up until now.  I actually managed to get the grass cut, and made a respectable little pile of grass cuttings.

grass

That blur on the left is Sandy.  She is ambushing me for a game of tennis.

I’m sorry about the quality of the photograph.  I forgot to set the camera for sunlight, because it’s a setting I rarely use.

Criminal records

Grandad April 9th, 2008

I had a call from the Gardaí last night.

They arrived at the house in a squad car with all their sirens howling and their lights flashing, and then battered on the door.

I invited them in.

There were two of them.  I gave them tea, because they said they were on duty.

“Are you here about the house being burned down next door?” I asked.

“No.  It’s not that.”

“Is it the four tourists I shot the other night?”

“It’s much more serious than that.”

“Is it the bonfire I lit to get rid of all the rubbish in the house?”

“No.”

“If it’s about my offshore accounts and my dodgy financial dealings, then I don’t remember anything about them.”

“Not those.”

“You’re annoying me now.  Is it the half acre of herbal tobacco out the back?”

“No.”

“Well, what the fuck is it then?”

“I must caution you that you have, on your property a thistle growing.  Under the Noxious Weeds Act 1936, you are obliged to destroy that said thistle immediately or you will be issued with a summons.”

“Shit!  Sorry.  I’ll do it tomorrow.  Anything else?”

“How much do you charge for your illegally distilled whiskey?  I want two bottles please.”

A slice of the dog

Grandad April 4th, 2008

It was a lovely day yesterday, so I decided to cut the grass.

We gave a lot of grass here, and we also have a lot of lawn-grass.  There is the front lawn, the main lawn and the orchard.  I don’t bother mowing the woodland or the pond.

It is a good many months since I cut it, so it was full of twigs and branches from the trees, rocks and stones from that fecker Woodya, and of course, a whole lot of dog shit.  Or even a hole lot of dog shit.

I picked up the twigs and the branches and the rocks, but  I was damned if I was going to pick up the dog shit.

Out with the golf clubs.

I had a fine time.  Most of it was Wouldyapoo, because Sandy is discreet and only craps next door, and Wouldyapoo is large and weighty.

golf

The Next Door Neighbour doesn’t know yet about his housewarming party tomorrow night.

He was in his back garden yesterday with a couple of young women.  I don’t know if they were friends, or whether he hopes to sell or let the house.  I didn’t ask.  Frankly I didn’t know they were there until the first scream.

Apparently one of the young women was just about to go in the back door, when a rather large turd splashed across the door in front of her nose.  It was unfortunate timing.

Even more unfortunate was when later the other young woman stuck her head out a window, and I got a bulls-eye.  Or should I say a girls-eye?  Leastwise, she suddenly developed a tan she hadn’t planned on.

They left in a hurry.

I seem to have developed a rather nasty slice.

Does anyone know anything about golf?

How do I cure it?

The need for security

Grandad March 24th, 2008

In these troubled times we live in, security is an unfortunate necessity.

Even here in the mountains, we must always remain vigilant.  Being a rural community, we tend to look after one another, and run our own form of neighbourhood watch scheme.

I thought I would help out, so I purchased a consignment of wireless webcams.  These are great as they can be placed at strategic points and I can record whatever is going on at the flick of a switch.

I placed them at strategic points around Head Rambles Manor and the surrounding area, and they work extremely well.

gate

I had quite a few cameras left over, so in the interests of neighbourliness, I decided to protect my neighbours homes as well.  In order not to disturb them, I waited until they were out, but I’m sure they’ll be delighted at the extra security.

I tried the system out again last night and again it worked well.

couple

Just as soon as I sort out some problems with focussing.

Dogsitting

Grandad March 23rd, 2008

thatdog

Wouldye?  Woodya?  Wooja?  I don’t know how to spell the fecker’s name.

We’re ‘babysitting’ That Dog at the moment.

He is half a ton of brainlessness.  He is a twit, a moron, a Homer Simpson.  He is also immensely powerful.

When he is in the garden, he plays with rocks.  Our lawn is decorated with boulders.  He could outclass a JCB.  I think one of his ancestors built Newgrange or Stonehenge.

When he is indoors, he isn’t allowed rocks, so he plays with bits of paper or old leaves instead.

He’ll stand and look at a bit of paper for ages.  Eventually, he will pick it up and spit it on my lap.  I am supposed to throw an old leaf?

I got really tired of him yesterday.  I had to demolish a wall he had built in the garden. 

I sent him out to play on the road.

The inevitable happened - A racing SUV; the sound of screeching tyres; the crash.

Half an hour later, That Dog came wandering up the lane quietly chewing the side panel off a Discovery.

I went out to have a look.  He had destroyed the car.  It was covered in toothmarks and slobber.  He had chewed it completely out of shape.

I like That Dog.

But I’ll have to think of a new name.

A turd on legs

Grandad March 14th, 2008

I just had a knock on my door.

But I had better explain something first.

The builders next door apparently opened up an old septic tank yesterday.  For those of you who are not familiar with these delightful things, they are large underground tanks that contain vast quantities of human shit.  Bacteria eat the shit, and the relatively clear waste then soaks away.  The bacteria form a scum on the surface, so they are usually relatively odourless.

After taking the lid off the septic tank, the builders buggered off.

Back to the knock on the door.

There was a bloke there, and he was filthy.  Not only that, but he stank to high heaven.

"Is your dog around," he asked.

At that moment, Sandy came running around the side of the house.  She took one sniff, yelped, and ran back around to the back garden again.  I wanted to do the same.

Apparently, this bloke had just fished a dog out of the septic tank.  It had fallen in at some stage, and was creating a stink.  Literally.

They hauled it out and it ran away.

I took pity on the bloke and hosed him down.

But in the meantime, there is a dog on the loose.  And he is nothing more than a mobile human turd on legs.  He is dripping shit.

Presumably, he has run home for comfort.

So if you happen to find a very large shit licking itself on your bed, or your best couch, don’t be alarmed.

It’s your dog underneath.

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