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Padraic

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Posted: February 12 2014 at 08:50

Jared wrote:

^^ sorry Alan... I never was any good at posting links..

I fixed it for you Jared. Smile

https://witness.theguardian.com/assignment/52f0dd85e4b08e6aaede60d3?INTCMP=mic_231930

Padraic

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Posted: February 12 2014 at 08:51

I did have a chuckle at "car park closed" LOL

chopper

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Posted: February 13 2014 at 08:38

Well there you go then

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-26177136

Jim Garten View Drop Down

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Posted: February 14 2014 at 02:36

So who's next for having their name cleared?

Rolf Harris, maybe?

After which, Operation Yewtree could be exposed as the bumbling, media led witch-hunt I've suspected it was all along.

Jon Lord 1941 - 2012

Dean

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Posted: February 14 2014 at 04:44

Their names will never be cleared, such is the nature of accusations such as these.

I've not taken much interest in these cases or looked at them in any detail but the DLT case was different in that it didn't involve rape or underage sex, not that it lessens the seriousness of any sexual or indecent assault charges of course, but does suggest a change in perception of what is considered to be inappropriate behaviour over the past forty years (not that putting your hand up a girl's skirt was ever thought of as appropriate or acceptable behaviour I do recall that back in the 60s and 70s the school playground game of kiss-chase had a variant called knicker-chase - though when you're 10 such games are like a dog chasing cars: if they ever caught one they couldn't actually drive it, but I digress).

What?

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Posted: February 14 2014 at 06:13

True - in law maybe, but they were also tried by the red-tops

Jon Lord 1941 - 2012

Dean

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Posted: February 14 2014 at 06:29

That's why I said their names will never be cleared, even in reporting the outcome of the DLT case this morning Matthew Kelly's name has been mentioned in the press some ten years after legal charges against him were dropped.

Alas, Trial By Media has been with us since the invention of the printing press.

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Dean

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Posted: February 17 2014 at 07:17

The Valentines Day Fence Massacre - February 2014

Fortunately living atop a hill close to the highest point in Hampshire has spared us any threat of flooding, the previous owner christening this place "Hillcroft" was part factual and part artistic licence, (a croft it is not), but it does mean that the West Wind can mount a relentless assault whenever it feels like inflicting itself upon us, having an unbroken run across several miles of open fields before leaping over an insubstantial pine hedge and depositing the full force of its might into our timber-built out-houses and fencing. When first moving into this house some ten years ago I toyed with the idea of constructing either a wind mill, a wind break or a wind harp. Being a music-loving progger, I chose the latter, perhaps not the wisest of choices since the plaintive drone of this aeolean harp tuned to DMIN offers little comfort.

The Christmas Eve MacGyvered repairs to my embattled fencing survived the recent spout of mother nature's huffing and puffing but sadly several of the previously untouched fence panels did not. So once again there was a littering of my neighbour's drive with the shattered remains of splintered feather-board fencing, replete with bent and rusted nails poking through at every conceivable angle of what little remained of its waterlogged planks. That alone would have ensured that at least one of his fleet of cars would receive a fatal puncture-wound should he have tried to negotiate the debris, but fortunately the four vehicles parked on his drive, and the three parked on ours, came out of the previous night's maelstrom unscathed, I suspect this was more due to the rotting wood having the texture of a wet sponge than any providence, divine or otherwise - and the thick layer of dark-grey road-grime that encrusts my once red car must have offered some protection at least since that was parked closest to the fence at the time. So Saturday was spent clearing up the resulting nail-infested, tetanus-inducing kindling and attacking what few panels that survived with a box of decking screws, electric screwdriver and an electric drill, both of which I now declare to be unchangeable rather than rechargeable, such that said screws were driven into the rotting timber using Thor's mighty Mjölnir (aka a Stanley Steel Claw Hammer circa 1977). Now my fence resembles a snaggle-tooth crone with non-existent dental hygiene and a serious sugar addiction; and the once private and concealed recluse of my car-port, (which for reasons far to complicated to go into even in a Rambling Sid Rumpo of a post such as this, is called "Malcolm"), is now open for all the world to see. Which is unfortunate since it, for want of a better word, is a right tip - stacked with black bin-bags of junk cleared out of the "spare bedroom" waiting to go to the municipal recycling centre (aka the real "Tip") and a mass of disassembled office furniture and sundry items of computing equipment that will soon transform the aforementioned "spare bedroom" into my work-from-home office. All I need is to plant a rusting engine block from a Vauxhall Nova and a disused washing machine into my front garden and my conversion of this once rural idyll into a Channel Four parody of a sink-estate will be complete. Needless to say the embarrassment I endured when informing my beleaguered and long suffering neighbour that fifteen panels of replacement fencing would be delivered by Messrs Wickes & Co. this following Friday was excruciating, made worse when I turned to see how our bomb-site of a back yard looked from their side of the gappy once-was-a-fence fence. Not even hastily erected willow-screening can save me now.

Hey-ho.

Part three, in which the wind tears a shed...

Now as I type this I can see out of my window that the once upright potting shed is doing a fine impression of the Leaning Tower of Pisa - I could pun that with Pizza but alas it lacks a topping since the gale-force winds have managed to strip its roof of all bitumen-based weather protection, it is currently a shed with a long want felt, though mozzarella and porcini would serve better than its current paucity of weatherproof dressing. From what I can see without venturing out into the drizzling rain it is beyond repair, for I doubt that even Gaffa tape and Bacofoil food-wrap can save it. I fear that it too will be joining the remains of the fence in the mother of all bonfires (of the casualties), should this rain desist long enough for the timber to dry out sufficiently for combustion.

In spite of being the son of a carpenter I am seriously questioning the logic of using wood as a construction material in the 21st century, it is no wonder that so little archaeological evidence can be found of Anglo-Saxon Britain once the Romans buggered off back to Italy and took their knowledge of brick making with them, they could have at least left us with the skills to build serviceable pizza kilns. A replacement shed will have to be added to my shopping list of fence-panels, gravel boards, rechargeable drill and screwdriver...

Hopefully this rain will abate soon so once the panels are delivered I can reconstruct the tip-concealing boundary fence.

Oh my word, a ruddy great black bird has just flown into the conservatory window!.. which, due to the prevailing weather, and unluckily for this now stunned member of the corvidae family, was not open. Fortunately the dumb 'oiseau-noir' appears unharmed though Storm, the cat that once was asleep on the table next to me, is suddenly very much awake and looks to be as startled as the misguided kamikaze avian. The cat-brained feline has assessed the situation and is doing the maths... let's see if the bird can regain its senses and fly orf before said cat can flit from conservatory to kitchen, negotiate two cat-flaps and cross the rain-soaked patio - Oh, that's lucky,the bird has flown and now that kitty has decided rook is off the menu, she is marking her territory in the manner that cats are prone to... how pleasant.

This working from home lark is proving to be very distracting, even if it is during my self-enforced lunch-break.

Edited by Dean - February 17 2014 at 07:26

What?

chopper

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Posted: February 17 2014 at 07:47

Sorry to hear about the leaning shed of Pisa, Dean.

You're right about WFH though - I was doing the very same a couple of years ago, talking to someone on the mobile whilst gazing wistfully out of the back room windows during yet anothe storm when a particularly violent gust of wind took out three fence panels in one hit. My interjection of "****ing hell" suprised the other people in the meeting somewhat.

I also once saw a fox having a quiet lie down in the middle of our lawn one afternoon. which is preferable to having your fence blown down (although our cats may beg to differ).

That reminds me, I need to order another 2 fence panels tomorrow.

Padraic

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Posted: February 17 2014 at 08:52

chopper wrote:

I also once saw a fox having a quiet lie down in the middle of our lawn one afternoon. which is preferable to having your fence blown down (although our cats may beg to differ).

And a fox would be preferable to one of these guys that was hanging out in my father-in-law's yard last year

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eastern_coyote

Edited by Padraic - February 17 2014 at 08:53

chopper

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Posted: February 17 2014 at 09:55

Yikes. Fortunately we don't get too many coyotes in Essex.

Dean

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Posted: February 17 2014 at 10:14

...except in Basildon on a Saturday night.

...no wait, that's cougars.

What?

Padraic

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Posted: February 17 2014 at 10:19

chopper wrote:

Yikes. Fortunately we don't get too many coyotes in Essex.

It was summer, so it didn't have a shaggy coat like the wiki pictures. Looked more like the one here

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Posted: February 18 2014 at 02:37

Splendid summation of mother nature's power, Dean - you also appear to have a much more energetic feline than either of our two. There are many cats in our neighbourhood, most of whom seem to use our garden as either (a) a meeting place, (b) somewhere to cross to get to our cat flap (our cats actively encourage visitors; not uncommon to find a strange feline curled up with one of ours) or (c) a pissoir

We were lucky in the last storm, fairly sheltered as we are, but our neighbour's fence really should not be at that angle & even though that side is his responsibility, it's also our fence, too, so I guess a form of support is required for the knackered fence post - there goes Saturday.

Our friends on the other hand weren't as lucky - getting up on Saturday morning to find one of the ash trees in their garden had shuffled off its mortal coil in the winds, but just so they had something to remember it by decided to reduce Jackie's car to a twisted wreck that not even the most fervent of mechanic's sharp intakes of breath could hope to remedy.

Jon Lord 1941 - 2012

Jim Garten View Drop Down

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Posted: March 03 2014 at 07:06

This man should be given honorary membership of The Shed forthwith:

I suspect he may have been reprimanded...

Edited by Jim Garten - March 03 2014 at 07:07

Jon Lord 1941 - 2012

Dean

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Posted: March 03 2014 at 07:21