We Don't Beat Nature, We Just Argue Over pointless Stuff Instead.

        Last week, over here in the UK we experienced about seven days of weather that a Canadian would call "whimpy". We experienced a grand total (where I live) of maybe three or four inches of crunchy snow, and this was sufficient to make everyone give up and cower in fear under their duvets. Ever wonder why schools close whenever it snows more than 3.5mm? It's not to do with "safety", it's either because so many people have called a snow-day that they can't open or something mechanical and water-based has had the same idea. Kind of makes me wonder how they get on in places with real snowfalls, like this one. That's two feet of snow, right there! What about this here? Just over two feet of snow in just over a day. This isn't even in the far reaches of Siberia, this is in Maryland, USA! I'm reasonably convinced they don't shut down the state and declare rule of the jungle until they can plow their way through it, and yet we go into a mild panic as soon as the first flake hits the ground, normally only ending up with the same effect you get when you sieve icing sugar over a Victoria Sponge: it looks pretty, but is hardly noticeable. What about countries where they have "real" weather, like Kansas where summer consists of baking heat, sudden downpours and lack of humidity. Oh, and freaking huge tornadoes that blow through occasionally. Or Siberia, say. They get the joy of an average winter temperature of -20c! In fact, northern Siberia is so cold, the soil is permanently frozen, which must be utterly hilarious if you're a grave-digger. Or Alan Titchmarsh.

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... And To All, A Good Night!

I'd like to start today by pointing something out: when I lived in Broom, our place there occasionally had an invasion of Fruit-Flies. I have no idea where they came from, where they lived or whose passport they forged to get in, but they chose my home to squat in. Didn't even pay me any rent! I occasionally had a stab at resolving the problem by going all Ghostbusters on them, using one of those vacuum-cleaners with the "nozzle" to suck those winged headaches into oblivion. All of this was to no avail, as another generation would come to avenge the deaths of their kin, and it was all rather annoying.

Well, I don't live there anymore, and have moved to a small town north of there. You may remember my long rant about the moving process. Anyway, I'm sitting here typing, looking at my partner's laptop sitting on the side. It has something crawling on it. Yes, that's right, we have a new invader! However, this isn't a Fruit-Fly, it's not a Wasp, it's not even a Blue-Arse Fly.



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It's Christmas Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve Eve!

So, here we are, a week before Christmas, and I'm attempting to sort out the "visits" to the family. Ooh, it's a right ol' pain. I've got to see so-and-so on this day, but this-person isn't available until then so I'll have to go and see that-person instead and work my way around, but I can fit relatives X, Y and Z in all on one day. Arg! I'm slowly shifting towards the idea of posting them all a photo of me, and saying "that's good enough", you know, what most people say when the pick up a present for someone when Christmas shopping?

No, honestly, I do love going to see people over Christmas, it's just so much fuss organising it, especially when there's so much other stuff to do: I've got to finish my Christmas shopping in person as Amazon apparently don't sell everything, I've got to build a wardrobe and an office desk, I have some more work to do (I know, I know), I have four hundred and eleventy ten Christmas cards to write, I have to arrange for my car to be fixed as some w~?#{r reversed into it a while ago, and only a week to do it in. And it's now started snowing.

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The Christmas Countdown Beginneth!

Pinch punch first of the month!

It's December, people! No doubt all of you have fallen into that mental advent-calender mode of repeating to everyone how many days until your living room becomes strewn with wrapping paper and you can add a singing tie and "festive" pants to your already ample collection. More importantly, you've probably been counting the days until work breaks up for Christmas. Go on, admit it, you've also worked out the hours, and the minutes, and the seconds, haven't you.

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Has someone seen the last ten months go past?

Good lord, it's November! When did that happen?

Does anyone else get that feeling that the year has crept past them while they weren't looking? I sure do, especially as everyone seems to enjoy saying "xx days until Christmas". Then again, I find myself saying "where did the year go?" every year, so I shouldn't be surprised, but still, one minute I'm basking in the beautiful summer sun and the next, it's that time of year when the fireworks sold for the 5th November are set off. Over a two week period, for no particular reason. at 2am every morning.

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