Saturday, 26 June 2010

Horse Manure.

'Fantastic', I thought, 'there's actually a space out front of my house to park.'  Then I noticed the huge mounds of horse droppings in the highly prized parking space.  Not one who enjoys driving his car tyres (tires) through steaming lumps of horsie poop; I ended up parking half way down the street.
I've mentioned my dismay over cat crap in the garden.  No doubt, the majority of folks would think that is frustrating and most unfortunate.  People with dogs, generally speaking, are responsible and deposit any doggie messes into a plastic bag.   Yet people with horses are allowed to let their prized palomino poop prolifically.  This seems unfair. People with dogs have to abide by certain laws in regards to dog fouling.  People with horses should have to abide by laws in regards to horse fouling.  Of course, I have a solution to this pooping problem.

The above picture is for demonstration purposes only.  You may notice that the rider on our demonstration horse has a bag attached to the horse's butt.  This is an ideal and practical solution to rid our streets of the havoc of horse manure.  In fact, the rider can then take their pre-bagged horse poo and use it as an ideal fertiliser for their perfectly presented sprawling and oh so majestic garden.  
I really don't appreciate seeing that horse crap on the road.  It was not nice parking my car in a place where I could not see it.  How would those horse owners like it if I went up to their driveway and left them some waste of the human kind?  An amount so massive that they couldn't get their sparkly clean exotic sports car out of said driveway.  Me thinkest they would not exactly be amused by such an action.

I thought that perhaps I could hypnotise a horse.  'Hello horsie...look into my eyes.  You will not poo here.  You will wait until you get back to your fancy home and then proceed to take a dump on your rider's, soon to be, not so sparkly clean, exotic sports car.  Do you understand?'
Nay, sorry if I seem like a bit of a nag.  You know I'm only horsing around.  I suppose I'm making an ass of myself.  So I'm sure you're not gonna' foal for it.  Don't worry, this nightmare is almost over.

I'm feeling a little 'horse'.  'Cough'...'cough'.....

Monday, 21 June 2010

The 'Wee Folks' Wedding.

Today would be a day of magic, wonder and inspiration.  For today was the 'wee folks' wedding.  A joyous celebration of the deep, powerful love of Fidelina, the beautiful fairy princess and Geoffrey, the garden gnome.  The above photograph is Fidelina posing with her sister bridesmaid, Venetia, as they make final preparations in anticipation of the event.

Above is a photograph of Teagan, the best gnome, and of course, Geoffrey, the happy groom.

The wee folks were a bit reluctant to have the wedding in the day time.  Yet, the day and the starting time were symbolic of the beginning of summer in the northern hemisphere.  As if by magic, the ceremony commenced and the sun hid behind the moon.
The wee folks would be most honoured if you have a look at the photographs from their wedding.  The wee folks wedding, a profound statement that true love conquers all.

Clicking on the link below will take you to this truly magical wedding.

Thursday, 17 June 2010

'The Wee Cup'.

You may noted that there is a bit of a sporting tournament going on in South Africa.  The 'World Cup' is a celebration of what has been called 'the beautiful game'.  I might call it 'football' and you might call it 'soccer'.
Folks who are not that much into football or soccer, find themselves watching this spectacle with a mildly curious fascination.  I suppose it's somewhat like people who don't really follow baseball will watch the 'World Series'.
Living in Britain has given me full appreciation of just how much this sport means to them.  Football could be considered bordering on a tribal obsession.  It even seems to be the point of irrational hatred for a certain team.  For instance, if you were to meet a Liverpool fan and told them you supported Manchester United, this can cause a heated debate as to which team is better.  I am very careful in my discussions about football.
Football has all sorts of strange terms to describe the game.  Here are a few things I have noted from listening to football commentary.  'The goalie is commanding in the box and the opposition are having trouble penetrating his box due to the fact that the sweeper is dribbling the ball off the line.  From there, the sweeper dummies his opponent and back heels the ball to the goalie who lobs it out to the attacking  midfielder who nutmegs the other team's right back and makes a slide rule pass to the striker who thinks of taking a chip shot but decides to dink the goalie who ends up letting in a howler.  The referee disallows the goal because the winger was in an offside position.'
Yes indeed, I have heard the commentators talk about man-to man marking and zonal marking.  They talk about yellow cards and red cards.  Heck, they even mention free kicks, bicycle kicks and scissor kicks.  So I sit there very confused listening to all this weird and puzzling football terminology.  Here are some often used observations made by the commentators. 'They played them off the park!'  Oh really?  So they played them off the park and proceeded to go down the back streets outside the stadium with the eventual outcome, a rip-roaring time and a sing-along with a group of wandering minstrels at 'The White Lion' pub.  'They're scoring goals for fun!'  What!?  Like they would be scoring goals for sadness.  Yes, I know, I've gone a little bit quirky.

It seems like just about everybody is caught up in World Cup 'fever'.  The 'wee folks' even wanted to have their own football event, 'The Wee Cup'.  One of the wee folks had heard that there was someone called a 'sweeper' on the football field and took the meaning quite literally.  You may note that in the top photograph.  'Penny', our beautiful Jack Russell, fancied a go at football, the beautiful game.  Of course, she would call it 'pawsball'. Maybe she can get one of her doggie friends to play in goal and let in a howler.

Friday, 11 June 2010

The Little Shopping Horrors.

I've talked about this subject before.  I was hoping that the situation would improve.  Alas, if anything, it seems to be getting worse.  This little expedition is the sort of misadventure that would turn any respectable superhero into a quivering wreck.  So just what is it I'm talking about?  Maybe you can relate.

Yes, in the photograph is the entrance to that place of little shopping horrors, also known as a supermarket.  Note the instruments of chaos neatly rowed in front of the entrance.  You might call them trolleys, or, if you prefer, shopping carts.  I call them instruments of terror designed to have wheels that don't work properly and cause pandemonium within the store.  They are, apparently, supposed to be used to place groceries and screaming kids in.  'Responsible' adults have been known to allow their children to cling on backwards to the front of these trolleys of folly.  Gee, why is there a little kid yelling hysterically under the display of now broken jars of peanut butter?  Hell, he looks like he's covered in sh**!
Based on other trips to the shop I take a deep breath and head inside.  All I really want is carton of milk and a jar of coffee.  And where is the milk located?  At the front of store because some folks just want to dash in and buy only milk?  No, of course not, it's way at the back. I wonder why that is?  Could it be the store owners want you to go in with your intent of only buying milk and end up buying six cases of beer, tortilla chips and a 52 inch, high definition, colour T.V.?  Nah.....
So, ever so bravely, I head down the aisle that will lead me to the milk.  This must be done with great skill as I must avoid the 'old rage pensioners' who are standing guard over the reduced price section.  Do not, I repeat, do not even attempt to take an item from the reduced item section.  The old rage pensioners will beat you up with their walking sticks and their heavy duty handbags.  
I successfully manage to obtain the milk.  Now it is time to go and get the jar of coffee.  The coffee I want to purchase is on special.  It is difficult to locate, but finally, after a few minutes of searching, I find the promoted brand.  I overhear a lady talking to her child.  'I wonder where that coffee on special is?' she states.  Being, I like to think, of helpful nature, I speak to the lady.  'Is the brand you are looking for?  The 'Kenco Rapport'?' Did she thank me for trying to be helpful?  Did she heck.  The lady looked at me with utter disgust and responded ever so abruptly with, "No!"  I thought to myself, 'Well I hope you spend the rest of your pathetic life looking for that jar of coffee, you miserable bitch!'  I walked off to the cashier's check-out with the carton of milk and the prized jar of coffee.  
When I get to the check-out I usually have a good laugh with the cashier.  Quite a different situation than the madness of the frantic shoppers who think it is okay to bump into me without even the semblance of an apology.  Maybe, the difference is that the cashier is stuck there and has to put up with my quirky conversations.  I would really like to know what happens to folks when they enter a shop.  Does today's fast-paced, hectic world turn some into rude and inconsiderate individuals with no thought for anyone but themselves?  Well, that was another day of the little shopping horrors that I've experienced too many times.  I head home and suddenly realise that I'm out of bread.  Oh shit!  .  

Saturday, 5 June 2010

The Foul And The Pussycat.

There are mysterious creatures lurking in the garden  You may know of these creatures.  You see them on calendars, on birthday cards,  in documentaries and every other blog seems to mention these creatures.  Idolised and even worshipped by some, this creature, I believe, has an evil plan to rule the world.  Using a zoom lens and somewhat rushed, I managed to photograph the elusive beast.

Okay, you've worked it out.  Yep, it's a cat, or a kitty, or a pussy, or a pussycat.  Like I said, you may have seen those blogs with the pictures of cats.  Usually with a caption that goes something like this: 'Awe look at my cute little pussy'.  Fair enough.  I can understand why folks like a little kitty company.  In the house they purr away until they get fed.  Then they head out the cat flap.  That's when their 'free spirit' nature really takes over.
I've had quite a few problems with cats.  One of our neighbour's had a cat that thought my welcome mat was a really terrific place to have a wee.  Nothing like opening your front door and having the fresh aroma of cat piss wafting through your home.  I approached my neighbour and asked him to please do something about his cat.  His charming response, and for documentary purposes I quote : "Not my fucking problem..nobody owns a cat."  Then he ever so politely slammed the door in my face.  So a problem with a cat and a neighbour.  Pleased to inform you that after two court cases for anti-social behaviour, my charming neighbour was evicted.  His cat was captured by me and my landlord and re-homed on a farm.
I know it's cruel to keep a cat in the house.  I understand that cats like to go for a wander.  So here are some suggestions for people who have cats that can't be bothered with the kitty litter tray.  When kitty cat decides it's time to slip out through the cat flap; go out with the cat.  No, not through the cat flap..the door is the recommended route for humans.  If one is unable to take said kitty out then get an understanding friend or neighbour to take out the pussy.  Take along some plastic bags to pick up kitty's poo.  Heck, if it's three in the morning, one may get the urge to sit on the fence with the cat and let out an almighty screech which wakes up the entire neighbourhood.
Those mysterious creatures have been running wild in my garden.  I have tried several different remedies to keep those kitties from crapping in my garden.  Nothing has worked and the proof was in my re-cleared and re-soiled vegetable patch.  My iceberg lettuce was not a pretty sight.  I have a couple of more ideas, but, in the meantime, out of sheer desperation, I am trying the following plan.


Strategically placed in the vegetable patch; here is my secret weapon to combat the terror of the feline foe.  I shall call it  'Scarecat'.

Here is a night time photograph of Scarecat.  Sure hope this little plan works.  Knowing my luck, kitty cat will take one look at Scarecat and proceed to take a dump on its head.