We begin Friday night’s blog, the gateway to this bank holiday weekend, with a look at slugs. I have been having problems with them, you see, and they have been giving me a lot of trouble… I don’t mean that they have been rowdy, playing their music loud and having general anti-social behaviour… Mind you, they have been anti-social in a way. No, I mean they have been getting into my house. No, not breaking in a steeling the DVD player… but getting in and leaving their gross snail trails all around my dining room. There are no signs of the actual slugs, just the slime.
I have tried putting salt on the floor and have sealed my back door better… but they still get in! I have, today, put salt at the door outside, which I have tried before but to no avail. There are no holes or big gaps in the door in my kitchen/diner so how are they able to get in? It is so annoying waking in the morning and coming down to their silver snail mucus on the floor. I quickly rub it away with the soles of my slippers, but it can’t be good for the carpet can it!
They come sometime during the night, (not every night, they have time off) when we are all asleep, silent predators, creeping and sneaking. But how do they know it is night time… and how do they know there is no one around? I can go to bed at twelve and get up at seven and their trails will be there.
If you have any tips, then let me know.
If not, all I can think to do is one of the following.
1, Set my alarm clock for 3am, go downstairs with a large hammer and squash them all to death… or perhaps forget about the hammer and just pick them up and chuck them outside (however, they might be back).
2, Put salt all around my house. Problem is though that salt goes soggy and also people might think I am crazy.
3, Put slug pellets outside and kill all the slugs in the area? Tempting…
Perhaps I could…
4, Go back to choice one, but capture the slugs and send a message to their leader saying I will only set them free if they promise not to enter the house again. Could sign a kind of treaty, like the Treaty of Rome… call it the Treaty of Roam?? I did a similar thing with gnomes, called it the Treaty of Little People. They don’t like being called gnomes, it hurts their feelings.
But I digress. Which reminds me of another time I digressed, in the mid nineties, I was talking to a friend at work.
Anyway. Slug help needed. Slugs Out!
By the way, I have updated my settings on this blog so everyone should be able to leave a comment now without logging on…
Friday 26 August 2011
Thursday 18 August 2011
A Bit about Bus Spotting
I will begin this blog with three words:
Bus Spotting… Why?
For those people who do not know and have not seen such a creature, they ‘spot’ buses. Yes, it is true… no, I am not lying. I know people have hobbies and I know we are all not the same, but come on… Bus Spotting? I can understand, in a way, how people like Train Spotting. But not Bus Spotting. I work next to a bus station and when I go out on lunch I see them with their cameras at the ready. They all seem to wear the same type of clothes too. Not duffle coats, but bland tops and black nylon trousers. They look in the need of a good wash too, as do their man-made leather shoes with the man-made leather uppers.
I recently saw a family of them drooling over a… well, bus. The dad was about forty, the daughter in her mid-teens and the son about eighteen. Why weren’t son and daughter out with their mates, or at the very least wasting their lives playing on their Xboxes? I did notice that there was no mother there, she had probably divorced dad years ago on the grounds that he is a complete and utter prat.
I usually see lone Bus Spotters as they snap their cameras at some double decker as though it is the Orient Express, or maybe the Hogwarts Express. I want to go up to them and yell, ‘It’s a bus, it’s a bloody bus!’ I want to shake them. ‘Snap out of it man… it’s a bloody bus!’ But I don’t, of course. But what makes a man think, Yes, I know what I will do, I will take pictures of buses for the rest of my life. I can accept people who collect stamps, or set physical challenges. Oooh, look at the wheels on that bus! Phew, what a sexy bumper that bus has!
If there are any bus spotters out there, then please let me know. I don’t want to offend you… but… why?
A bus is not exciting, it gets you from A to B. The wheels on a bus go round and round…
… all day long…
Bus Spotting… Why?
For those people who do not know and have not seen such a creature, they ‘spot’ buses. Yes, it is true… no, I am not lying. I know people have hobbies and I know we are all not the same, but come on… Bus Spotting? I can understand, in a way, how people like Train Spotting. But not Bus Spotting. I work next to a bus station and when I go out on lunch I see them with their cameras at the ready. They all seem to wear the same type of clothes too. Not duffle coats, but bland tops and black nylon trousers. They look in the need of a good wash too, as do their man-made leather shoes with the man-made leather uppers.
I recently saw a family of them drooling over a… well, bus. The dad was about forty, the daughter in her mid-teens and the son about eighteen. Why weren’t son and daughter out with their mates, or at the very least wasting their lives playing on their Xboxes? I did notice that there was no mother there, she had probably divorced dad years ago on the grounds that he is a complete and utter prat.
I usually see lone Bus Spotters as they snap their cameras at some double decker as though it is the Orient Express, or maybe the Hogwarts Express. I want to go up to them and yell, ‘It’s a bus, it’s a bloody bus!’ I want to shake them. ‘Snap out of it man… it’s a bloody bus!’ But I don’t, of course. But what makes a man think, Yes, I know what I will do, I will take pictures of buses for the rest of my life. I can accept people who collect stamps, or set physical challenges. Oooh, look at the wheels on that bus! Phew, what a sexy bumper that bus has!
If there are any bus spotters out there, then please let me know. I don’t want to offend you… but… why?
A bus is not exciting, it gets you from A to B. The wheels on a bus go round and round…
… all day long…
Sunday 7 August 2011
A Bit about Moaning
Tonight I want to discuss moans. Moans are all around us. There is no escaping moans, or moaners. There are good moans and there are bad moans. Moans are like things that live in the water, they can be cute little fish you want to stroke and love, or they can be floating turds you just want to get away from as quickly as possible. Where do moans come from?
People, of course.
I don’t mind people moaning or having a good moan about something if it is a good, valid moan, so don’t get me wrong here… You know what I mean about a valid moan: someone has a sick relative, has had a crap time, or other such reason… But I just cannot abide a bad, invalid moan from someone. You know the kind of person I mean I am sure. That work colleague/mate/relative/bloke in the pub who bends your ear for what seems like a lifetime going on about something so mesmerizingly … ridiculous!
When you are stood there thinking, What in the hell is this work colleague/mate/relative/bloke in the pub moaning about? And why is he or she moaning at me about it, and why in the hell are they moaning anyway?
Moans about the weather really get to me… It’s cold/warm/wet etc… Get over it won’t you! This is England! Okay, if it really is cold and you have had to scrape an inch of ice off your car windscreen that morning then have a moan… but don’t come to me a moan about it being too hot…! For 364 days of the year here in England the weather is crap, so when that one day of the year arrives when it is warm, don’t say to me, ‘Oh Borg, it’s just too warm isn’t it?’
‘No… it is not too warm… moan at someone else… leave me alone to enjoy this rare bit of warm weather.’
Some people moan about their favourite football/rugby/baseball (for all my US readers) etc teams. Why do you support them if all you want to do is moan about them? ‘Oh, they’ll get relegated this year, they’re rubbish.’ WHY DON’T YOU TRY TO BE MORE POSSITIVE, YOU, YOU… INVALID MOANER YOU!’
Oh, my boyfriend/girlfriend is a right git… Get another one, dump him/her!
My cat keeps trying to eat the fish… Why get a fish and cat together anyway!
So… moan about something worth moaning about, okay? Thank you.
People, of course.
I don’t mind people moaning or having a good moan about something if it is a good, valid moan, so don’t get me wrong here… You know what I mean about a valid moan: someone has a sick relative, has had a crap time, or other such reason… But I just cannot abide a bad, invalid moan from someone. You know the kind of person I mean I am sure. That work colleague/mate/relative/bloke in the pub who bends your ear for what seems like a lifetime going on about something so mesmerizingly … ridiculous!
When you are stood there thinking, What in the hell is this work colleague/mate/relative/bloke in the pub moaning about? And why is he or she moaning at me about it, and why in the hell are they moaning anyway?
Moans about the weather really get to me… It’s cold/warm/wet etc… Get over it won’t you! This is England! Okay, if it really is cold and you have had to scrape an inch of ice off your car windscreen that morning then have a moan… but don’t come to me a moan about it being too hot…! For 364 days of the year here in England the weather is crap, so when that one day of the year arrives when it is warm, don’t say to me, ‘Oh Borg, it’s just too warm isn’t it?’
‘No… it is not too warm… moan at someone else… leave me alone to enjoy this rare bit of warm weather.’
Some people moan about their favourite football/rugby/baseball (for all my US readers) etc teams. Why do you support them if all you want to do is moan about them? ‘Oh, they’ll get relegated this year, they’re rubbish.’ WHY DON’T YOU TRY TO BE MORE POSSITIVE, YOU, YOU… INVALID MOANER YOU!’
Oh, my boyfriend/girlfriend is a right git… Get another one, dump him/her!
My cat keeps trying to eat the fish… Why get a fish and cat together anyway!
So… moan about something worth moaning about, okay? Thank you.
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