Further to the below, and because I am finding all kinds of exciting things as I sort out 4 years of accumulated files, here is a random musing from the old site (expect more of these to resurface in the coming weeks).

In the newspaper the other day there was a picture of a mother duck leading her five wee babies on a stroll over a sewer grating. Next to it was a picture of the mother duck and a single duckling peering down into the sewer grating. D’oh. What I like (being an inveterate duckling adorer) is that so many people wrote into the paper to make sure the ducklings were rescued that the next day the paper printed an update. Yes the ducklings are fine, please stop asking. It’s nice that so many people are cuckoo about the welfare of tiny baby ducks, given the plethora of other things they could be fretting about.

One day when I have money, I plan to live somewhere with a pond solely so I can have ducks – and all going to plan, ducklings. The single hitch in my plans I suspect will be my cats, who are ever in search of small defenceless creatures to massacre. To this end I will outfit the ducklings with suits of spiky protective (yet lightweight) armour. I am sure this may cause the cats to give up after a while, but experimentation may be required to find out for certain.

This countdown dedicated to Murray, who drove me nuts with her hourly ‘I’m Leaving Spotless’ countdown.

On my second to last Friday morning here, Melissa and I were out taking photos at the Gardens. I am now obliged to mention that Melissa sang Teddybears’ Picnic for much of this outing, but she is unwilling to have it recorded to share with the world.

I found baby ducks. I love baby ducks (not ducklings – that word doesn’t adequately express the cute). And so, despite being tired and hungry and sore from my pinched neck nerve, I am in a fairly good mood today.

Plus that whole ‘I will soon be out of this delightful place’ vibe kinda helps.

Time for some culture.

While in Hungary, I ate… a lot. Not quite constantly, but so many things were new and different and it would have been rude not to, no? Palacsinta with the best apricot jam ever, paprikás csirke, gulyásleves, lángos… Keep the mákos tészta though, that stuff is not right. About now, Don would pipe up with ‘pörkölt‘, so I should mention that too.

I most vividly remember the taste of gesztenye (chestnut) icecream, which I haven’t been able to replicate here and would probably bloat up to the size of a very large bloated thing if I finally cracked it. And for that matter, sargadinnye (cantaloupe / rockmelon) icecream. One day…

In any case, this isn’t about icecream. It’s cold, I’m sick and I had leftover chicken to use up. One does not wish to experiment with chicken icecream at this juncture.

(more…)

How much fun are sudden-onset headcolds when you have no tissues in the house? Store brand toilet paper is not your nose’s friend, especially 2 rolls on.

Thank Jebus for my trusty and unusually resilient (I haven’t killed it yet) aloe vera plant.

/miserable

It must be, or otherwise it would be spelled Temms.

Which is all slightly moot, because we didn’t go to Thames, we went to Thornton Bay. Sure, it’s just outside of the bustling metropolis that is Thames, but it’s an important distinction to make.

Thornton Bay is home to Dad and Diane’s beach place / future retirement abode. It’s where we go to relax and Dad goes to do his (rather loose) interpretation of relaxing, which is pretty much 8 hours of manual labour a day. To be fair though, he’s not completely insane. There’s a wedding in January he has to get ready for, and the chances of Carl flying up every weekend to help out are kinda slim – meaning a lot of work to be done and not so much manpower with which to do it. This weekend Sam and I went along to help / watch / bother him for Father’s Day. I choose to believe the most help I can be involves staying out of the way and making pointed observations where appropriate.

First things first. It’s important to note that Dad is pretty much a big giant nerd. This is his new lean-to workroom thingy, and his plan is to repaint it a nice bright blue and put a sign saying ‘Police Public Call Box‘ over the doors. I think Diane’s letting him have this one as a nerd outlet, so he can sit in his little blue room and giggle and not cause any problems anywhere else.

The most awesome thing about this place, TARDIS aside, is it has a significant wodge of native bush within the boundaries. Not enough to get lost in (unless you really try, or fall, or something), but enough for a decent wander. And glow worms! Excited squeal! Dad and Diane and assorted grandparents have done quite a lot of clearing already, but there’s still room for more blazing of trails; possibly a little further down the track (yes, a pun).

This weekend’s progress, care of Dad & Sam:

Steps so old people don’t have to slide down hills on their butts. My role in this project was weeding the lavender border within earshot, and rehoming any worms that were excavated in the course of digging. I don’t like the poor wormies to be homeless.

Then this lil guy wandered along to supervise the excavation. Apparently he’s been around since D&D bought this place, and he has the best feet ever. It is an immutable law of the universe (let’s call it Karen’s Law) that a cat person, when faced with a cat, cannot help but give itloves and attention – or at least attempt to do so. And so it was that ubersappy superawesometoekitty stayed around for the rest of the afternoon.

Because I am ill (I came back with a sore throat and am now stuffed up and sneezing out my precious brainmeats) I’m not going to attempt to end this wittily. Instead I will leave you with this photo; my first daffodil of the spring, taken on the first day of spring. We’re planning on going up more frequently to help out with the preparations, so maybe there’ll be a few more updates between now and January…