Archive for the 'Around the garden' Category

Fun and wife swapping

April 18th, 2010

I had a very busy day yesterday.

It was a beautiful day, so I decided it was time to do some long overdue jobs around the estate. There were hedges to be trimmed, ground to be dug and trees to be cut back.  I set Herself to the digging while I trimmed some shrubs.  I had to leave the tree pruning as I didn’t have a suitable saw.  I even cut the grass.

Of course, having cut the grass, I had to have a bit of a smoke.  Then the neighbours got wind of it, as it were, and they wanted a sample of the grass too.  We ended up having a bit of a neighbourly barbecue.

It’s funny how these things get out of hand.

Somebody suggested a spot of wife swapping.  I was all on for it, but for some reason Herself wasn’t too keen.  I persuaded her that it was all in the best interests of the community spirit, so we went for it.

I’m very glad we did.

I swapped her for the loan of a chain saw.

Going through the motions

April 7th, 2010

We have a septic tank in the garden.

I know we have, because I built it.  In those days, there were no sewers or any of those so called modern conveniences, so you had two choices – a chemical toilet or a septic tank.  I don’t like the stink off chemical toilets, so a septic tank was the order of the day.

I read somewhere recently on the Interweb that these tanks are supposed to be pumped out on a regular basis.  I had a funny sort of idea that there was some kind of maintenance called for, and had idly decided that the thing to do is to wait until the tank stank.  It doesn’t stink at the moment, though I don’t generally go sticking my nose down the vents, so I have decided to let sleeping turds lie.

I built that tank back in ‘65 or ‘66.  It is the best part of forty five years old, but it has never been pumped, or cleaned out.  There are poos in there that I dropped when I was a teenager.  Maybe I should open it up as a museum?   

If something does go wrong with it, then I have a little bit of a problem.  Back in the days when it was built, there was easy access, but in the intervening forty five years, a load of trees have shot up, which means there is now no way for a lorry to get to it.  I don’t know what they do in this situation?  Do they take the lid off and empty it by hand, using buckets?  Maybe they could dig a trench and let it empty itself into the river that flows past our place?

I confess, I haven’t really given it much thought up until now.  It has lain there doing its business on my business and we have left each other alone.  To pump, or not to pump.  That is the question.  Whether ‘tis nobler in the mind to let the neighbours suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous stench or to take arms against a sea of shite.

I think I’ll leave it alone.

It’s too nice a day to worry about these things.

Rampant sex and ice hockey

February 11th, 2010

It’s that time of year again.

The snowdrops have been in flower for a few weeks now, [not that you could see them for snow, most of the time] and the daffydowndillies are getting ready to flower.  Best of all, the birds are singing their little hearts out.

Yes.  It’s that time of year for rampant sex in the garden.

The birds all go ballistic at this time and merrily shag each others brains out all over the place.  They have no sense of decorum at all.

I have been collecting Sandy’s hairs for the last couple of weeks, as she has been moulting like the clappers.  I have a large plastic bag full, waiting to go out into the garden.  The birds love those hairs, and almost literally kill for them, as they are ideal for nest building.  I usually put them out under a bush in a large wodge and then let battle commence.  It can be quite entertaining.

One thing that is different this year is the temperature.

On Sunday, it is the 14th.  The more brain-dead amongst you will be getting all excited about Valentine’s Day, which is the greatest load of shite ever invented.  Here at Head Rambles Manor however, the 14th is Frog Hump Day.  Every year, on the 14th of February the frogs meet up for a shagfest in our pond.  I don’t know how they know the date, but it is always the 14th.  On the 13th, the water of the pond will be its usual murky self, but on the morning of the 15th, it will be covered with frogspawn.  If you look out the window on the 14th, all you will see is a huge dark heaving mass of frogs as they all frantically fuck each others brains out.  They make quite a racket too.

This year, the pond is frozen over.

They will presumably turn up on Sunday expecting a nice wet stagnant lovenest, and instead are going to find a skating rink.  Presumably every thrust of the male is going to send the female slithering across to the other side of the pond?  [“Oy!  Come back here, Mavis!  I haven’t finished screwing you yet!”].  It should be interesting.  If it wasn’t so fucking cold out there, I’d mount a web camera to film the craic.

It’s not often you see frogs playing ice hockey.

A party with a bang

October 12th, 2009

I enjoy children’s parties.

Especially when I don’t have to attend them, and can’t hear what’s going on.

As you may have gathered, there was a wee soirée here yesterday, complete with the usual accoutrements that seem to accompany modern parties.

Of course I made my appearances at the appropriate times – when the mothers were arriving, or when the cake was being cut.  The rest of the time, I had a nice peaceful afternoon in the coal hole with Herself.  I had the coal hole soundproofed some time ago, as her yelling was annoying me at the time, but that soundproofing works both ways.

It was a very successful party.  The ambulance only had to call three times, and there are no outstanding court cases that I am aware of [yet].

The only sign of the party now is the clatter of balloons around the place.  A few of them burst in the garden, of course, so the place looks like it has been decorated with multi-colour condoms.

One of them just exploded on the floor beside me.

No warning.

No reason.

I shat myself.

I’m getting old.

*sigh*

A thoughtful daughter

October 11th, 2009

We have a very thoughtful daughter.

I awoke this morning to find that our K8 has made us a present of a shooting gallery in the garden.

shooting_gallery

Later this afternoon, she is going to fill it full of five year olds.

I’m going to teach Herself how to shoot.

I have the air rifles at the ready.

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