Overload...

Tranquillity...
Originally uploaded by elb_the_prof

Hmmm. So much for keeping up with the blogging!

Work and invalid sprog have been taking up all my time of late, but every so often, things just get a TEENY bit too much - like today. I was in a terrible mood when I left work, and on a whim, decided to go for a walk instead of going straight home.

I ended up here - in a very therapeutic place both mentally and physically. After a short break wandering around these tranquil ponds, relaxing with my camera, normal service was able to be resumed...

Blog in progress...

Blog in progress...
Originally uploaded by elb_the_prof

I have been remarkably lazy regarding my blogs this year, but then again, quite a lot has been happening in the day to day world.

Is there any point in my making New Year's Resolutions if I know I won't keep them? If someone could just squeeze in a few more hours into each day, then I might possibly have time to write up all the blogging material I have in my piles of Moleskines ...

Here's to 2008 and my intention to do more blogging! Cheers!

Elb versus the Aliens ...

Fading glory
Originally uploaded by elb_the_prof

It's said that you should do something every day that scares you. Somewhat lethargic in the fright department, I have just had enough terror to suffice for months.

I have just done battle with The Refrigerator.

Inspired by a Flickr group entitled ‘I dare you ...’ I decide to take a photo of the contents of my fridge. A simple matter, if not a little quirky, but hey - I like quirky, and am oft considered simple, so I should fit right in. Prising open the door with some effort, it seems that the inhabitants of my ice box are somewhat reluctant to be photographed, and fight valiantly to keep the door firmly closed. That should give me a clue to what horrors lurk within, but I am unprepared for the scale of the biological war being waged inside ... Behind the packages of meat and butter, entire new life forms have come into being as vile vegetables mutate into a primordial soup, festering tentacles reaching out to enfold the newcomers stuffed unthinkingly into their clutches as I throw fresh fodder in after a trip to the supermarket. No way on EARTH can I present that to the world!

I roll up my sleeves and don a hastily concocted biohazard suit, prop the door open with a broom (those suckers really DON’T want to come out!) and set to evicting the unwelcome mutants into a quarantine zone. Ignoring the shrieks of protest, I pry a slimy parsnip off the back of the fridge, but it fights back viciously and slithers slickly through my fingers before escaping a la baby Alien from John Hurt’s tum and vanishing under the cupboards ...

At last, a steaming pile of toxic gunk sits atop my kitchen counter, and the inside of my fridge has been decontaminated with every cleaning product known to man - and then some. I wrestle the squeaky-clean shelving back in situ, then discover that replacing the drastically depleted contents takes about four seconds flat. Barely a handful of still-edible fodder has survived....

As I wrap the putrefying detritus in lead-lined bin bags, spores from a mouldy squash drift lazily onto the floor where the cat sits watching my efforts with suspicion, and the seeds for feline vege-mutation are sown...

Altar to Happiness

Altar to Happiness
Originally uploaded by elb_the_prof

There I was, faffing about with my latest fad - Flickr - when a shaft of sunlight glanced off my coffee mug, throwing a reflection of the gold leaf pattern into a lacy halo around my steaming brew. It was one of those "Ooh!" moments, almost an epiphany ... I added a couple of things for effect, grabbed the Nikon and hey presto - perfection!

What's WHEELIE going on???

Y'know I said that my recently-abducted-by-aliens wheelie bin had returned from its travels a different man? Even stranger things are happening now in the weird world of wheelies....

All seems perfectly normal in Weevil - or as normal as it can be - as I return home after a long and arduous day at work. As I turn the corner of my house however, something untoward catches my eye, and I notice with a frisson of alarm that there is a sinister presence lurking beneath the overgrown evergreen tree which guards the pathway to my hovel. For a moment, I think I'm seeing double, for did I not already pass a similar entity as I came in through my back gate? I have to go back and check....

Yup - I did.

So WTF is going on???

*Gob hangs ajar in astonishment...*

I now have not one, but TWO effing wheelie bins. (And yes, I know there's no 'F' in wheelie bins...) Is it indeed some insidious takeover by alien beings? Are they mutating? Are they breeding?? Will I come home tomorrow to discover an entire dynasty of dustbins, from young pedal bins to flashy teenage trashcans and on through the generations to the grandaddy of dustbins, the dumpster?

Or should I just go and take my medication like a good girl?

It's a gas, man...

YAY! Today is B-Day.... No - not BIDET, but Boiler Day.

Following the conflagration which ended with the demise of my elderly hot water boiler, I am at last to be reconnected to mains gas again. After nearly three weeks without hot water (and a week of no water at all!) the insurance company have graciously granted me the luxury of a new boiler, and so I issue an invitation to my tame plumbers to sort me out.

The lovely Andrew arrives first thing in the morning and I hand over my key with the usual instructions re not letting the moggy escape, then beat a hasty retreat to work while he and his colleagues wreak further havoc on my already-ruined kitchen... I never thought I'd hear myself saying it, but I am SO looking forward to washing up in hot water! Who would think a confirmed lazy slob such as myself would ever aspire to such dizzy heights of domesticity, but believe me - when you've had to spend three weeks boiling saucepans of imported water for dishwashing, anything that comes out of a tap - hot - is nothing short of a miracle!

I arrive home after my allotted time in slavery to find the house deserted except for my moggy, and go to investigate the new boilerage... Super Mario Brothers have done a cracking job and a brand spanking new gizmo resides in the corner of my kitchen - or what's left of it..... In order to fit the new boiler, they have had to remove a wall cabinet, the contents of which are spread along the worktop, liberally coated in dust... The cat too looks distinctly grey as she pads along the gritty work surface leaving pawprints, and suddenly the novelty of being able to run a sink full of hot water to start the clean-up operation loses its lustre...

Once more, I close the door firmly on the grimy kitchen and reach for the phone to order takeaway...

...and there's MORE!!!

Only yesterday, I reported the heinous crime that befell my poor innocent wheelie bin, and I am still reeling from the trauma of my loss when in the midst of my morning ablutions, my mobile phone rings. Nekkid and dripping, (not an attractive sight...) I answer it to discover it is an early-morning Plod who hopes he hasn’t got me out of bed. When I reply that I was in the shower, he apologises, then asks if I have a pen handy. Oddly enough, I don’t, and I tell him I already have a reference number so THAT rains on HIS parade...

“Oh. So you’ve already reported it then?” Plod sounds disappointed. For a moment, confusion reigns. Am I in the middle of some bizarre dream? How did he get my phone number if he thinks I haven’t yet reported the theft? Is he from the Psychic Division? He earnestly assures me that everything possible is being done to reunite me with my disappearing dustbin, then asks me if it has any distinguishing features? Astounded that the police are wasting so much time and effort on a rubbish bin, I pause to wonder quite what he means.... I always consider handlebar moustaches and eyepatches to be rather distinguished, but my bin sports neither, and I’m sure that’s not what Plod has in mind. It DOES however have a splodge of yellow foam smeared on the lid, so yes Officer - I CAN pick it out of a lineup.... I decide prudently NOT to tell him it has a name (Osama) lest he think I’m completely off my rocker, but in my opinion, it’s a toss-up as to which of us is more bonkers - me for naming the bloody wheelie bin, or him for treating it like the Great Train Robbery! Seemingly satisfied with my answer, PC Plonker promises he’ll let me know if there are any further developments, and I gratefully return to the warmth of my shower, shaking my head with the absurdity of it all....

Later in the afternoon, my friendly bin-bobby calls again to give me an update on the investigation. They have discovered....nothing. Nada. Zilch. A big fat zero.... Apparently, he and his colleague have trawled my neighbourhood, inspecting wheelie bins and interviewing anyone loitering with bintent.... Alas, nobody can shed any light on the mystery and, adopting the doleful tones of one about to impart news of the death of a loved one, he sadly tells me he can do no more, and that I will probably never see my wheelie bin again..... It’s as much as I can do not to snort out loud, and I feel guilty for not showing more concern, but thank him for his trouble.

I ensure that I have disconnected from the call before yelling “Now go and catch some REAL criminals!!!” at the phone....