Exhibit A, m'Lord. Socks that came with their owner to Christmas Dinner.

and the final contender is....

and the winner of the contest is...

Sudoku

Latest craze to hit our household - online sudoku. Gregoire can do the easy puzzle in 7 minutes or less. He has the timer option set when he does it, to add to the pressure.

For the uninitiated here is a sample Sudoku puzzle. If you get sucked in doing these puzzles on a regular basis, your household chores will go to hell in a handbasket and don't worry about writing that novel.

We were wondering what the rattling on our roof was this morning, then all became clear when we saw this seagull sitting on our skylight. Even after taking this photo with a flash, it stayed there for quite a while, oblivious to us looking up from below.

If you look closely at the sign which appeared at the edge of the blogtrain, it has the letters "NAZI" next to the danger symbol.

So I wasn't quite sure what this was. Gregoire thought it might be a dead body....

Feeding time at the duck pond yesterday.

In search of Shirley and Bob and a turkey

We went to pick our turkey today. We're getting a fresh one, not frozen, which is a change for us. Part of the reason is that a friend of ours, ChefMeister, is doing special preparation of the turkey including deboning. Its great. The turkey is cooked and looks like a regular bird except that you slice through without having to deal with bones. He's done it before and it came out wonderfully. But unfortunately we neglected to take said beast out of the fridge soon enough (the turkey, not our friend) and ChefMeister was there trying to work his magic with a particularly unhelpful 'frozen to the bone' turkey.

CM has agreed to repeat his culinary genius again this weekend, but informed us that a frozen turkey would result in no turkey for us this year.

Anyway today as we went in the local grocery store, from which we'd preordered the bird, it was busy as all get out. Everyone and their goat was busy buying up all manner of edible goodies to load onto their Christmas dinner table. The line at the deli was by ticket only and I took the next ticket which was #61 and currently being served was #38. This did not look good. Each customer was ordering masses of havarti, crates of cheddar and enough Bavarian salami to feed five thousand. I would get served by the twelfth day of Christmas.

I went to the front cash desk where there was an equally long line and asked about getting my turkey. They said "Oh no problem. Just go to the front of the deli line and yell for Bob, and you will be fine." Gregoire looked at the line and then looked at me as if to say "Be my guest." So that's what I did. "BOB!", I shrieked. A few people looked at me grumpily, defiantly clutching their tickets which were no doubt obtained way before my measly #61. Nooone behind the counter reacted and "Bob" did not say a word. I repeated the shout for Bob. A couple of young servers looked at me balefully but had obviously lost the power of speech.

Back I went to the cash desk supervisor. She sighed and said patiently, "OK, go back and yell for Bob and Shirley and that you want your turkey NOW". I trekked back to the deli again, the bit between my teeth this time. I shouted "Bob! Shirley! Shirley! Bob! COME IN BOAT #2. MERRY CHRISTMAS! I'm here for my TURKEY!

Instant response this time. "I'm Bob" called back a man who was talking on a cell phone, smiling and waving at me at the same time. "I'm Shirley" a pretty, dark haired woman waved and starting walking over to me. Shirley was intercepted by one persistent customer, who managed to get in an order for a bucket full of olives, before she paid attention to me.

I gave Shirley the chit for the turkey and she said, "How big a turkey do you want?" This sounded ominous. Surely they knew that already, but I kept my cool and said "17 pounds". She furrowed her brow and said, "Oh I'm not sure about that. 17 pounds? Are you sure?" I confirmed that again and gave her our name and phone number. Shirley was cheerful and friendly enough but sounded very doubtful. She went over to her list and painstakingly checked through it. Then she called over "We have it!" She disappeared for a time to search the back room for the bird. Meanwhile the crowd in the deli were impatiently waiting as they had one less assistant to help them, as she was helping me. I felt like I had "Queue-Jumper" tattooed on my forehead.

Just then Shirley emerged right next to me with the 17 pound beast. It was more expensive than we'd anticipated but looked perfect. "Is there anything else you'd like while you are here", she asked me loudly. The people around me groaned. Ah, to heck with them. "Yes thanks" I replied, "I'd like a hunk of cheddar and after that a nice big piece of havarti." Shirley grinned at me, and returned behind the deli counter and went to cut me a sizeable chunk of cheddar.

So now we're home. Its raining like Noah's flood outside, but at least we have our bird safely inside and its dead, but not frozen to death. There might just be turkey for us this year.

We came across a curious seal a couple of days ago. He swam right next to where we were standing to take a closer look at us. He dove under and emerged several times to peek at us.

Well I was about to say that this is a dead bicycle but its actually quite workable, just fairly well used and for some reason abandoned. I think it will be gone next time I walk down the street.

I met these two today, one for sure is called Oliver, not so sure about the other's name, for now its Ermintrude.

Last week we were served an incredible dessert that deserves its own column of inches. This seems very trivial after the last posting about hit and run drivers, but here you go.

I don't know what to say about this other than these flowers were left by friends and relatives of two men killed in our town by a hit and run driver. He/she was driving a high powered sports vehicle at some ludicrous speed and hit three people who were crossing the road, one of whom survived, the others were flung some distance after the impact. The sports car was abandoned a few blocks away but not reported stolen. The owner of the vehicle has been identified but noone has stepped forward and owned up that they were driving the car at the time of the accident. Will someone take responsibility here? It remains to be seen.

Classic Savagery

The end of the world is surely nigh.
Great literary classics are being reduced to text messages to help students revise.

Take Pride and Prejudice:

5Sistrs WntngHsbnds. NwMeninTwn-Bingly&Darcy. Fit&Loadd.BigSis Jane Fals 4B,2ndSisLiz H8s D Coz Hes Proud. Slimy Soljr Wikam Sys DHs Shady Past.Trns Out Hes Actuly ARlyNysGuy &RlyFancysLiz. She Decyds She Lyks Him.Evry1 Gts Maryd.

More info on the BBC website.

I'm not sure whether to be appalled or amused. Your thoughts?

Battle at the BlogTrain Station

Gregoire and I approached our house late the other Thursday, much later than we're usually out during the week. Suddenly Flossie, our trusty white chariot was stopped in her sporty little tracks by a fight. Not just any old fight. Looks like six or seven young men were involved, punching and kicking each other in the middle of the street right next to the blogtrain station. This brawl wasn't played out according to any Queensbury rules. It was very violent, brutal, and shocking. Combatants used any and all means of attack. Fortunately I did not see any guns. One man cowering on the ground was being viciously kicked repeatedly by three others.

Commuters waiting at the bus stop kept their distance and yelled for someone to call the police. We pulled over. The mayhem in front of us continued. Gregoire wanted to get out of the car but I urgently called for him to stay put. I dug around for my cell phone which was rumoured to be at the bottom of my bag. Now there was a challenge. I hate the beastly phones. Its been so long, I didn't even know how to turn it on. And I could not see any numbers in the dark. I was thinking that the likelyhood that the battery was actually charged up was very remote.

As I was fumbling around, we heard sirens. The youths scattered in all directions, hurling abuse at each other and there were shouted threats of "I'm going to kill you" and "You are so dead!" So dead? How did that phrase finagle its way to pollute the English language. That's the crime, if you ask me. But then you probably didn't.

Back to the action. A white squad car arrived, and two women police officers stepped out. One of them very impressively restrained a young man attempting to flee. He looked twice her size, but he was totally immobilized as she held his arm behind his back. This was obviously run of the mill for her. I could picture her sipping a cup of tea with her free hand. WPC IronFist's companion then started interviewing another man who was stumbling very unsteadily in the road. He was bitterly complaining that he'd been kicked in the head. Another police car arrived in a hurry and screeched to a halt behind us.

The cops weren't interested in talking to us. We gingerly drove around the cars and various individuals on the ground, and returned to our quiet little house not one hundred yards away. We walked quickly into our home. Once safe in side, we locked the back door, poured a couple of stiff whiskies and contemplated the merits of relocating to a beach hut in Tahiti. In the following days I never saw any reports of the fight on the news or heard a peep about it on the radio. Sadly I suspect it was just par for the course for midnight on a Thursday night in Blogsville.

Unfortunately we had nothing substantial to give this attentive individual.

A visit to the coast where we saw some absolutely wild seas.

Some pictures I've taken over the last couple of months - a fall market place.

I'd like to shed some light on this

People do strange things. Today I found an abandoned door with a lock on it by the path next to the blog train station. So did someone plan this? So does MasterShedDitcher's train of thought go this way? "See, I have this "hot" door and to avoid being caught in possession of said door, I have to get rid of it. So I am going to enlist my buddy Fetch to help carry it. One ridiculously rainy weekend in the dead of night we're going to drag it up the gravelly path by the station and we're going to heave it over the railing and dump it. And then hightail it out there."

This makes no sense to me. Nearby there is a stretch of land where it would be so much easier to leave the stuff, so I wonder why they went to so much trouble to ditch it where they did. Seems an odd thing to do myself, but then I don't go round dumping parts of a shed round the neighbourhood. I am wondering where the rest of it lies. Unless they stole it from someone's back garden. So that may mean it's kids messing about after several six packs of beer. I'll keep my eyes peeled for a half a shed next to a vegetable patch. Well I guess it would save money on locks for the garden shed considering there is now no door.


Of course I can't resist this. Another dead umbrella. This one looks quite forlorn with a dead transit ticket lying on top of it. I'm wondering if somewhere there is a home for deceased umbrellas. Or perhaps they could be recycled into something useful or artistic. In our rainy city we see so many. Once they have reached their useful life they get dumped - usually by the side of the blogtrain station. I see a public art project in the works, made entirely out of dead umbrellas.

Gregoire and I were walking along the path by the blogtrain last night. Ostensibly it was for exercise but there's a little shop about quarter of a mile away that sells a fine selection of icecream. In our minds, it justifies the walk, but then the acquired calories probably defeat the whole purpose of the walk. But the heck with it, when I see a Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia, I am lost.



Anyway back to the path. It gets quite dark in a couple of spots along by the railway. One day I am sure I will find a body down there. Today there were some toadstools, but no bodies.


And somebody had dumped a large fern that had been taken from a store. Who knows why they dumped it half way along the path. It seemed a shame. If you're going to go to the trouble of shoplifting such a plant, least you could do would be to give it some care and attention. It looked quite forlorn along a darker section of the path, next to an abandoned toilet bowl in the bushes.


... and the piece de resistance, this svelte vacuum cleaner left against the wall at the blogtrain station. I bet this will be gone in a couple of hours, a high demand item, working or not. Of course you wouldn't know it was kaput until you lumbered home with it. Maybe we'll see it given away on Craigslist, talking of which, a woman in Dallas is offering her free good-for-nothing husband to any home and she'll pay the gas if someone comes and picks him up.

And a quick update on other matters. We haven't had any more newspaper deliveries since my last spat with JimmyBlog paper. Hopefully they have given up, if not gone home altogether. Somehow I suspect otherwise; these folks are nothing if not persistent.

And no sign of Steven, the student missing on Crete. It can't be a good news story, this one.

There is good news on the auto-spam on this blog. Since setting word verification on for comments, there has been no spam.

Autumn leaves... well actually it's just arrived

Autumn is here, there is a nip in the air, but there are compensations. I love the colours of fall.







What I don't understand is why all these conkers are lying on the ground. Its sacrilege. When we were kids, we'd practically fight to get one of these in our hot little hands. We'd tread warily into gardens and throw sticks up into trees, getting caught many a time by irate homeowners. Once we'd gathered a few conkers, we'd pick a decent one and ferment the beastie in vinegar for a while, put a skewer through it without destroying it entirely and lastly rig a foot of string through the middle. We'd then have a sure fire winner when it came to the illegal school conker competitions. What gives these days? I never see anything like that. I need answers please....

Anybody out there?

Well change of pace today, in case any aliens are dropping in. On the left is a pictorial depiction of the Arecibo radio message beamed in to outer space in 1974. It will take 25000 light years to reach its destination and 25000 light years for any response to come back to earth. OK. I'm wondering if there will be anyone left down here to pick up the phone in 50000 years. I'm thinking of beaming this message to our local free newspapers providers as clearly they are from another planet.


On that subject, there is good news. There have been no free daily newspaper deliveries for a week in our neighbourhood, you'll be pleased to know. I don't think this has anything to do my complaints. I'm not privy to their littering strategy but I'm ready if they come back. Wow this picture is blurry, anyway I counted 16 newspaper boxes outside the blog station. In addition, each morning, there are at least five or six people trying to hand me a free newspaper. Some of them are getting a tad aggressive, jockeying each other to get in a good position in front of the commuters. The JimmyBlog distributor I chewed out the other week hasn't appeared for at least a week. I wonder if she has decided on an alternative occupation.

Steven hasn't been found. That's the young man who disappeared on the island of Crete without a trace on September 1st. Family and friends handed out 20,000 leaflets at a Liverpool soccer match to try and raise awareness. A lot of folks go to Crete on vacation so it was hoped it would jog someone's memory. It seems strange that he would vanish with no sign. There are rumours swirling around about aggressive security guards around Malia, the resort he was staying at. Apparently he is not the kind of person to do a runner. It turns out he was on a pub crawl the night he disappeared. A side of me is less sympathic when I read that but then I think that he's a young man, whose parents are going out of their minds with worry. It would be good to know what has happened to him.

One of my favourite websites is Craiglist, originally started in San Francisco but now available for numerous cities across the world. Its intended as a forum for people to connect, barter, exchange, you name it, without being bombarded with advertising content. I like its simple, easy to use format, with no frills. So for example if you want a lot of free pinecones in Nashville, a bicycle in Lima, or a printer with suspected feline damage in Milan, then this might be the place for you. It also has a best of section, though be warned, some of the entries in there are a tad raunchy. Ah, so that didn't stop you...!

I have taken down the rant about SPAM from my blog description as clearly a lot of the spam is automated, with no live person on the other end. I still nuke those spam comments with links as soon as I see them. I read some useful information about it on Wiki. Typically I get 3 or 4 for every posting, which although tiresome, is not that much of an inconvenience as I'm getting a dab hand at hitting the delete key.

STOP PRESS! I found an option in the blogger template settings which is word verification for comments, which hopefully will stop the automated spam comments. If you're leaving comments, this will involve a minor extra step, but hopefully will not be much of an inconvenience. Comments, as always, are very welcome.

So I haven't quite worked out what JimmyBlogs delivery schedule is because there are no new freebies on our street this morning. It looks like they are operating with one or two deliveries a week instead of everyday. There's lots of paper on the lawns and sidewalks but it has been worse, as sometimes we get a mass of McCardBoard wrappers and Kentucky Fried Horrors. As for this morning, we now have rain into the mix so we're looking at a soggy mess.

Crap came back, the very next day....

The free paper was delivered again this week. Same spot on the bottom of the path of all the houses on our street. I phoned the distribution line and left a polite message asking them to phone me back. Later in the morning, Minnie called from JimmyBlog paper and apologized for delivering it our house. Apparently the delivery driver had forgotten to bring his list of homes to ignore. Which explains why the paper is at the bottom of the path. They just throw it from the delivery van.

I launched into ways they could improve the litter situation. First, don't deliver the paper to anyone at all, ever. Strangely enough, Minnie didn't seem taken with that option. Second, put the paper through the mailslot rather than on the ground. As in, don't be lazy. Third, if there is already a paper on the ground, don't add another to the pile. Unfortunately that would require some common sense. Fourth, go round the neighbourhood and pick up stray papers on the road and sidewalk and be a good corporate citizen. Minnie, who has obviously been through customer service training, sympathized saying she'd feel the same if she lived on the street and said she would discuss all this with her manager. I suspect nothing much is going to change.

I asked what their distribution plans were, and somewhat surprisingly, she told me. JimmyBlogPaper is using our area as a six week trial, then they are going to move on and deliver to another area in the city. Ah so we are guinea pigs. Oink oink. We are in week two. Four weeks of bad litter to go. Unless, of course, I can think of a way to combat this. Biting the hand that feeds them might work. I am thinking of photographing the street with papers on it and sending them to the main advertiser. Suggestions on a postcard please....

I'm pleased to report that there have been no further freebie paper deliveries to our street since Wednesday. I'm not sure if my complaints had anything to do with it, but its good that JimmyBlog Paper has desisted, for now at least. We had a big windstorm last night and everything has been blown around. Chairs and plants on our deck got overturned. The street is rather littered with bits of rubbish today but it would have been far worse if there had been four days worth of newspapers on the sidewalks.

I've been following the story of Steven Cook, a university student from the UK who disappeared a week ago on the island of Crete. He went there with a group of friends but on the first night he never showed up back at his hotel in Malia on Crete and missed his flight home a week later. His bank account hasn't been touched, his money, passport remain at his hotel and apparently it would be completely out of character for him to disappear of his own accord. Now family members and friends of his have flown back to Crete to search for him, so far coming up emptyhanded. The holiday company has offered free flights from the UK for people wanting to help in the search. Some people have flown to Greece to help even though they don't know him. His brothers have been posting on a forum, giving the latest updates on their search for him, the ground they have covered, the people they have interviewed, but no clues have yet emerged as to where he is. I must admit it doesn't sound good. I've been impressed with the way family and friends and people completely unknown to Steven have rallied around to try to find him. I hope this story has a happy ending.

Quick post this morning. I was on a packed downward escalator yesterday when it screeched to a halt. People fell on the person in front and there were frightened screams. The frail elderly lady beside me produced some four letter words I'd not heard in a while. The escalator did not move again. The woman was in trouble as she usually doesn't do stairs. Ever so gingerly she took a step at a time, with a huge long line-up anxious to get past her but unable to do so. I stepped slowly in front of her, giving her encouragement as she was obviously upset and frightened of falling. Instantly the group behind were patient once they realized the situation and eventually she got to the bottom of the stairs. She smiled and joked, thanking people around her for helping. The crowd surged past her again, in a blinding hurry to get to their day jobs.

I've turned into a three headed monster. Yesterday morning I set off to work but I was stopped dead in my tracks by a newspaper lying on our path by the sidewalk. It was the JimmyBlog, one of those useless free daily newspapers which had been delivered to our house. Its never been delivered before. You pick up the paper at one of the numerous outlets round the city, if that's your cup of tea. I looked up and down the street. The paper was everywhere, on the sidewalk, on the lawn, not exactly hanging from the treetops, but you get the picture. Red rag to a bull or what? I fumed. This paper has a target audience aged six and 3/4 and we are not it.

I recycled the aforementioned litter on my way to work. Once in the office I looked up the name of the paper's distribution manager and sent him a polite e-mail describing the mess in the neighbourhood and stating that we did not want the paper delivered. There was no response. Free newspaper delivery was one of the main topics of conversation around the water cooler in the office. Some suggested mailing a whole pile of newspapers back to the paper, stamp free of course. Another was to approach Mr Jimmyblog directly as he works in the next building. Somehow I don't think they would allow me into his penthouse office suite.


This morning another paper was on the path, same place. Papers were on neighbours lawns, in the middle of the road, on the sidewalk, everywhere. There's an elderly lady a couple of doors down who never comes out the front door of her house as there are difficult steps. Lying on her path were two crumpled papers that she will never read, and she won't be able to pick them up. I grabbed one paper and brought it with me to the blogtrain station. Every day there are free newspaper distributors eager to hand you a copy as you enter the station. Often you have to run the gauntlet of jousting papers before you can actually get into the station. Today I gave JimmyBlog Distributor a paper before she could hand me one. And then, totally unfairly but I was steamed, I ranted about papers all over our street and asked what would be done about it. She shrugged and followed the Distributor's Rule 101 - do not engage in any confrontation with a crazy commuter.


Anyway I felt badly when I got on the train. Chewing someone out who is not to blame is not my thing. Still, I was mad. At work, I wrote again to the distribution manager detailing the worsening litter situation on our street and again asking for the paper delivery to be stopped, and demanding the courtesy of a reply. Finally later in the morning one of his minions wrote, apologizing for the mess, said they would clean it up and confirming they would not deliver it to our home. I thanked her. Now the problem is how I can prevent delivery of the newspaper to the entire neighbourhood, but I guess someone would suggest that is a suppression of rights, free speech or something. I'd prefer to save the trees.

I asked the distribution manager whether they intend to deliver on a daily basis to a large number of homes in the city but that question has so far gone unanswered. I imagine they are not keen to share their marketing strategy with the likes of me. They probably think I would take it straight to the local government. They would be dead right. But if the widespread daily goes ahaed, the other two freebies will probably follow, and the deteriorating litter situation will go off the scale.

Ok I know this is ridiculous and decadent but I am dedicating this blog posting solely to a pie. Exhibit A to the left to be precise. A group of friends gathered last night and for dessert this pie emerged.

ORIGINATOR
My friend, Sylvia was the creator. She's artistic and a fantastic cook.

COMPARISON TO MCDONALD'S APPLEPIE
I'm not even going to go there. There's no comparison.

SLICING
It cut like a dream, thankyou. Slices came and went and were demolished like there was no tomorrow.

TASTE
Strawberries and peaches in a deliciously tangy sauce, lying on a ginger biscuit base. Perfection.

COMMENTS BY THE DINNER GUESTS
"Oh my God! That is wonderful!"
"A thing of beauty!".
"Poetry should be written about a dessert such as this."

So to get on the blogtrain you have to walk over this message indicating quite firmly I would say, that you have to pay to ride the service. While there are more ticket inspectors these days, it is an honour system rather than there being any mechanism to force payment for tickets. Apparently it has been considered many times, but proved too expensive to retrofit. It constitutes a primary flaw in the transit system if you ask me. It would be great if everyone paid their way, unfortunately life is not like that.

This story resonated with me. Its about Ron Avitzur at Apple Computers who was let go in 1993, but decided his work with them was not complete so he kept showing up for work, unpaid and occupied unused office space. His swipe card still worked to get in the building. We're talking months and months here. He was assisted by other legitimate Apple employees who were sympathetic, and they leant their technical expertise to his projects. He paid sub contractors out of his own pocket. Eventually when the software was complete it was shipped out on millions of Mac computers. Apple started paying him again.

It reminded me of a film made in the 70s called Bartleby where the employee gets fired but still shows up for work. He won't go away. Unfortunately this one has a much sadder outcome as the worker is mentally ill, ends up in hospital and fades away.

I removed the handy dandy country site counter as it was, well, not working. The site where you get the code seems to be kaput too so I suspect they are on holiday.

Life on the ocean waves

We were out on a boat this weekend. I'm not the best sailor; its slight exaggeration but sometimes I feel I could get nauseous in the bathtub, so you may understand some of my reticence when it comes to setting sail on the ocean. A friend of ours has a 29 foot sailboat which was our transportation system for the day. Anyway we had quite a pleasant ride out - no sails in sight and motored for about half an hour. We were buffeting the waves but my blueberry pancake breakfast stayed in one place. We stopped on an island and spent the day listening to some live folk music and getting warmed by the late summer sun. A friend, Cordelia and her little dog, Toto came and visited with us for a while.

At lunch a flock of pigeons flew by. One of them got caught in the wires of a sailboat. The pigeon plummeted to the water but managed to fly on somewhat shakily and settled on some rocks opposite us. A cloud of feathers wafted down in the air where the bird had hit the wire. As far as we could see the pigeon was not harmed, no broken wing or anything. I envisioned, in our litigious world, the pigeon sueing the boatowner for negligence for not putting out warning signs about the dangerous wire. I was thinking, on an island in the middle of the ocean, why should a pigeon have to worry about high wires as it goes about its business. Then I realized perhaps my second beer was kicking in.

As set off again, we saw what looked like plastic bag in the water, just outside the harbour. I was quietly grumbling about litterbugs on the ocean, but on closer inspection, it looked very like a dead baby seal. Which made me sad. A bit further along I saw what looked like an otter and proceeded to have a cheerful (one way) conversation with it, each time it appeared above the waves.
"Hello!"
"How do you feel about the price of gas?"
Again, appearances are deceptive. My little otter was a log, a deadhead as they call them in these parts.

We decided to sail back as there was some decent wind. I was a little on edge and wondered if I would toss my lunch but once I relaxed, it was fine, as we sped along at five knots. I can see how sailing helps people forget about their daily cares. I've not been in a boat for quite a while. It reminded me to take things easy - you can get so tied up in day to day cares, like e-mail messages, phone calls, and all the darn chores you meant to do today. To hell with it. Go sail for a day. Feel the rope in your hand, brace yourself and watch the sails fill out as you steer straight into the wind. I feel a sea shanty coming on. In South Australia I was born, heave away, haul away....

So with the handy dandy counter I installed recently, I find that the top visitors to this blog are from the US, Canada, Portugal, Chile and the UK. Which makes me a little embarrassed at my language skills, which are limited to English, some French, a smattering of German and Japanese, and a smat of Latin. But welcome everyone, I am honoured to have you visit. I'm delighted, boardering on ecstatic, for folks to leave me comments. Just don't advertise your products and services with links or I get a tad tetchy and turn a vivid green and my t-shirt starts splitting at the seams and you wouldn't like that.

We were woken up by a smell last night. This doesn't happen very often. You're sound asleep and in your dreams you're being invaded by an unbelievably obnoxious odour, so bad it wakes you up. Then you realize it is not nightmare. The truth is I fear, we have a most unwelcome visitor. There is a skunk living in our neighbourhood.

I've checked around but not actually seen the creature but even in the day time round certain edges of the garden, its been there for sure. I hope it is not living in our crawlspace. Mice, rats, skunks, what's next?

We had a bit of a ruckus in the neighbourhood last night. Gregoire and I were cleaning in the backyard around seven thirty when we heard a really loud motor spring into life. It was some kind of cutting tool but it sounded like a Harley being continuously revved up. It was if it was right in our yard. Still we were busy, so ignored it.

About five minutes later we heard a man's voice shouting. "Shut that damn thing off. Do you know what time it is? My baby is trying to sleep." Initially the motor just kept revving but the man continued to shout and it sounded bad. He was swearing at the top of his lungs and we could hear him over the sound of the motor. A crew were cutting down and removing a tree from a neighbour's front yard. The slings and arrows of outrageous language were hurled across the road.

Eventually the motor was shut off. A vitriolic slanging match continued between the two neighbours. A member of the gardening crew tossed in unhelpful jibes, adding fuel to the fire. The complaining neighbour seemed to make more noise than the offending machine. It sounded like things were going to come to blows. After a few minutes they ran out of steam and both parties disappeared back into their own homes, fuming as they went. The crew picked up the remaining branches of the downed tree and drove off.

I checked the noise bylaws. Reasonable noise between 7am and 10pm is ok. Unreasonable noise appears to be above 55 decibels continuously for three minutes or more. The output from the motor was definitely unreasonable.

A little later on in the evening after all was quiet on the western front, I ambled out and spoke to another neighbour, Harry as he tended to blades of grass on his immaculate lawn. He agreed it was loud but it was only for a short time. Everybody complains at every little thing, Harry said, gesticulating at the sky. We all have to get along together. Harry should work for the United Nations.

I was somewhere in between. If the guy had a baby in the house, he's going to be pretty protective. The noise was ridiculous. However he could have negotiated his way to some quiet time without stirring up world war three. Effing and blinding at the neighbour isn't smart. Now he's made an enemy where he could have had a friend. It wasn't clever for Flossie to bring in a tree cutting crew well after supper time. Somehow I doubted whether she was even aware of noise bylaws. I'd never clapped eyes on Flossie before, she's a bit of a recluse and keeps indoors.

Anyway the tree is down, the crew is gone. The neighbourhood is quiet. For now.

I walked into the elevator the other morning and a dark haired man bounded in after me, talking loudly to himself. I politely examined the decor on the opposite wall. On closer inspection, he had an earpiece and was talking to an unknown acquintance.For all I knew, his phoney friend was probably sitting in the blogtrain surrounded by a dozen people equally as displeased as I was at this loud intrusion. Suddenly the bounder looked round and realized he was not alone in the elevator. Looking a bit sheepish, he said quietly into the receiver, "Excuse I'm in the elevator and I look like an idiot. I'll call you back." In my book, he shot from annoying villain to decent human being in about 5 seconds flat.

So a couple of months ago I bought two baby chilli pepper plants. Feeling very pleased with myself, I tucked one of them very comfortably in a pot surrounded by other herbs and stuck it on the deck. The other I gave to a friend. Here is my mine.... feeble green leaves, thin as a rake and only one chilli in view.


...and here is my friend's, utterly bursting with life, chillis all over the place. Hmm, I'm thinking she watered hers, and probably read some of Byron's poetry to it every day. Yes, I can see a tube there, she had some automatic system in place. I gave mine the watering can treatment, but I admit it was rather sporadic, and we've had some fierce hot weather the last month. Anyway at least I know what can be done. We'll invite her over supper and she can bring the chilli sauce.

This crop circle appeared in Avebury in the UK this July. I'm a sceptic as to who actually creates these circles. I don't think its Farmer Joe and his dog. Some are very intricate and beautiful. Whoever is creating them must be having fun and I appreciate it as art.

I'm playing around with photo editor again; maybe this will be my new logo for garbage collection. This is a different take on the fries on the sidewalk shot from a few days ago....

The neighbours down the lane are fabulously optimistic. This white 1973 wonder with flat tyre, all sorts of rust, surrounded by a tonne of other junk, is for sale. We had been wondering what was hidden in this yard as for the past couple of years there was a large rectangular wooden box covered in black. We were hoping it was something mysterious and exciting. Pity. I don't think there is much gold at the end of this particular rainbow.


The laneway was scorching hot today, but the high hedges provided some respite from the sun. I didn't see too much litter today - maybe litterbugs don't like the sun, but there were the usual dumpings of deckchairs and bicycle wheels and Lord knows what in the undergrowth.


It beats me why folks do this. So you don't want your old bicycle wheels and other items. So you stuff it in a cardboard box and shove it down under the trees beside the blog train. Why? There were loads of places to take unwanted items - in our neighbourhood, leaving goods in the alleyway with a FREE TO GOOD HOME or equivalent usually means they are gone with a day or so. I don't understand folks who chuck them in the undergrowth and make a mess.


I passed a large hornets nest suspended from a tree on my walk today. I wasn't very comfortable getting too close to this one as there was a lot of buzzing around, but here we go.


Well if you make a negative of the hedgerow picture this is what it turns out like. Somehow I don't think I am missing my calling as a photographer but what the heck.

I have always liked masks. I wore this to a Mardi Gras party a couple of years ago and had a lot of fun. And when I'm not wearing the mask, we keep it on the wall the rest of the year.

I was walking along the street today minding my own business, as you do, when all at once I espied a host of French Fries, spread along the side walk. It looked like a gourmet game of "Pick up Sticks". Being naturally curious, I stopped to take a shot. Why were they there? There are many hungry people in the town. Nobody wants these fries? I saw a discarded McDonald's wrapper nearby, and instantly it all made sense. This is not food. This is garbage.


I don't know if you ever saw the movie TRON but this reminded me of that - as if life is in a computerised mesh This is a construction site quite near to where I work.


No particular reason for this photo, I just like fire hydrants.

I spotted this in the park the other day. There is a lady with a bike helmet lying on the bench. I've seen her walking round the city pushing this contraption. The sign says - Happiness, Relaxation, Emotional & Physical Back Pain Technique. Donation Good Karma.

We had a bit of a lantern festival in the park last night, here are some of the sights to be had:

I'm the urban space woman... there were dozens of characters dressed up in extraordinary costumes, such as this lady who got a lot of attention and stood for numerous photo calls.


One of the most imaginative sights last night was a washing line with lanterns depicting clothes on the line. Everyone laughed as they walked by this one.


This is the same shot without the flash, the silhouette of the clothes against the dark sky was stunning and very amusing. Oh well, it was very impressive at the time!


These familiar characters were a favourite. There was so much creativity at the event, I bet people spend many weeks designing and creating the pieces.


Then there was a maze made up of several hundred lanterns which looked fantastic. Each lantern consisted of tea-light on a bed of small stones in a brown paper bag. The design of the maze was clever : we walked into it, followed the path around and then exited the maze without actually reaching the centre, though we saw some others had got there. So a lot of people ended up walking around for a long time trying to figure it out. Lots of fun....