Archive for the 'Property' Category

The Accidental Terrorist restores order

Grandad February 28th, 2008

I wrote last week that there was to be a meeting about my trees eating lorries.

The meeting was held.

My God, it was horrible!

I decided to bring TAT along as my weapon of choice. I asked our K8 not to feed him for a day or two beforehand, and not to give him his pills that day.

Unfortunately, she got overenthusiastic, and withheld all his medication for 24 hours, including the injections.

I didn’t know this, and when the meeting started, I let TAT loose.

Even I was horrified at the carnage. They had to call three ambulances. Two of my neighbours now think they are Napoleon and are emigrating to St Elba. Three more are in a state of catatonic shock and doctors don’t hold out much hope of recovery. I was OK because TAT knows my smell [pipe tobacco, and old socks], but for the first time in quite a while, I was scared.

I eventually managed to get TAT caged again. The meeting was cancelled because the chairman was crying in the toilets and wouldn’t come out.

I think my trees are safe.

Thanks, TAT.

Property , Rambles
Comments(10)

I’ve been tagged again

Grandad November 11th, 2007

Our K8 has come up with a new meme.

And, bless her little cotton socks, she has passed it on to me.

She wants me to write a post that uses every tag. It’s all very well for her - she only has a few. I have loads. The cow!

Now I may be getting old but I find these difficult. I had a hard days blogging yesterday, as I had a good rant on a podcast to America. That was after I did my post on Cully and Sully.

So today I went for a ramble around the garden, trying to think of a topic. No go. There was no inspiration around the house either, and I’m damned if I’m going around the village or around the town for something so trivial.

Back in the 70’s life was a lot simpler. There were no computers or Internet, or even television so there were no memes. I had no irritating daughter in the family either. We found our pleasures in simple things. I remember learning to drive so we could go on holidays touring in the West, with no worries about flying and Global Warming. We had such simple sports as children in times past, like watching spiders spin their webs, and the designs they’d make. We’d go for rambles through the woods and have picnics of tea and spam sandwiches. We were a lot healthier for it.

Nowadays, work is the new religion and people have lost the use of their imagination. People only get worked up over celebrities and smoking out corrupt politicians. They panic over property prices and have lost sight of the soul of life.

No.

I can’t think of anything.

I elect not to do it.

I’m going to file this under Uncatagorised.

Maybe Sixty should have a bash at this?

Or how about Kirk at Just Thinkin’? I haven’t tagged him before.

And it’s a while since I annoyed Grannymar!!

tag-award

F*cking memes….

America , Around the garden , Around the house , Around the town , Around the village , Back to the 70s , Cully & Sully , Election , Getting old , Global Warming , Health , Holidays , Internet , Learning to drive , On the road , Podcasting , Politics , Property , Rambles , Rants , Religion? , Smoking , Television , The Family , Times past , Tourists , Uncategorized , Web design , computers , spam , sport , work
Comments(18)

A house with an unusual feature?

Grandad September 29th, 2007

Are you a Compulsive Depressive?

Do you do things and regret it after?

Do you buy very expensive houses, and wake up the next morning after only to realise that you have landed yourself with a massive mortgage millstone for the next thirty years?

I have just the property for you. I found it in the Irish Times.

Note the caption to the photograph….

So there you have your solution.

If only I could speak French

Grandad September 18th, 2007

There are times when I contemplate packing it all in.

I am sick of the miserable weather and the high prices.

I yearn for winters that are winters, and summers that are summers. I want to hear the crickets sing in the long grass of an evening as the sun goes down after a scorching day.

I found this advertised on the Interweb..

It needs a bit of work. It looks a bit damp and worn out with a few bits missing. Actually, it reminds me of myself. It is also in a part of France that is absolutely beautiful.

And has a reasonably warm summer

I could sell the house here, spend a couple of hundred thousand doing the place up, and still have a million or so to spare.

And the price of my dream house?

€10,000

Dammit - you couldn’t buy a dog kennel here for that.

Lament for a dying breed

Grandad March 12th, 2007

Ron, Dick and I all live in the country. We like it here. It is nice and peaceful. You can see the stars at night, and listen to the owls hooting. During the day, we keep tally on the badgers, foxes and squirrels. The air is fresh and quiet.

We all live in roughly the same area, which is all back roads and lanes. When I first moved here over 40 years ago, it was an event when a car went past.

Unfortunately, it is within commuting distance of Dublin. But everywhere in Ireland now seems to be within commuting distance of Dublin. So this means that the area is very popular for people to live in.

Now people have to live somewhere, and they are as welcome here as anywhere else.

But I have a major complaint.

This is the countryside. If you want to live here, then please respect that. Stop trying to turn it into suburbia.

Dick lives in a lovely old cottage. It’s around 200 years old. A couple bought the house next door to him [another old cottage] and they are trying to turn it into something that wouldn’t be out of place in Docklands. They want to build a two story extension with a high blank wall along his boundary, that would plunge his garden into darkness from midday on. He is livid. Apparently the couple want about five bedrooms, all en-suite, with games rooms and saunas and God knows what else. If they want that, then why buy in the country? There are plenty of houses like that in suburbia.

Ron had wide open fields around his house. They are starting to build housing estates on them. He is depressed. Where the cattle grazed, there will now be radios blaring in the summer, and burgler alarms blaring for the rest of the year.

I’m not too bad at the moment, but they are threatening to build a housing estate the other side of the road. And we now have street lights and footpaths. And I haven’t seen a fox or a badger in a long time.

I’m not against progress. But let the people who want suburbia live in the suburbs, and let the people who want to live in the country respect it for what it is. Countryside.

If you want to build here, build something that is in keeping with the area. If you want a housing estate, then live nearer the city. If you want a five bedroom house then build it where there are other five bedroom houses. You will feel more at home there.

After all, the people who live in the city sometimes want to go for a drive in the country. At this rate they are going to end up in Connemara before they find it.

So we are a dying breed; Ron, Dick and I. Along with the badgers, the foxes, the deer, the corncrakes, the bats, the squirrels, the field mice and everything else that likes a bit of space.