It’s been sunny today. Which was odd. Usually it’s sunny when I’m at work and rains/snows/hails when I have time off. Maybe I just mistook today’s fire and brimstone for sunshine. Anyway, most of the garden is de-weeded now. Just the pots to clear out and there’s no rush, it’ll be a while before the tobacco plants are big enough to need them. It’s also not definitely frost-safe out there yet. A warm spell in April has caught me out before.
Those damn red lily beetles are back again. I thought I’d exterminated them last year but some must have survived. This calls for some serious chemical weaponry. Best get my gooseberries treated too, sawfly of the gooseberries was a nasty experience last year. Hey Sawfly, I wanna play a game…
In this relaxed gardening mode I refuse to look at the newspapers. It’s just going to be more crap anyway. Instead, here’s a miscellany of whisky-drenched thoughts typed through a haze of smoke.
Finally, with no work to worry about, I took out the gifted enlarger and found a developing tank included! It really is an entire darkroom in a box. I also found the can of LNER Green – thanks, whoever you are, No note yet but there is a lot to look through. There might yet be one.
Good news for a change. There’s not much of it about these days. Anna Raccoon has survived the ministrations of the medics and is back in charge of the Raccoon Arms. The French NHS appears nowhere near as lethal as ours. Our lot could learn a lot from the French, if our lot were actually capable of learning anything at all.
I like espresso. A lot. Enough to have my own Gaggia espresso machine and a wide range of coffees and a grinder in case I buy any that are not espresso ground. I have flavoured coffees too – white chocolate flavour, cherry chocolate flavour and (no kidding) Christmas pudding flavour. Those are cafetiere ground and work best in a bigger cup anyway. I have not yet tried adding brandy butter and cream to the Christmas pudding one but there’s some left so it can happen.
There is a coffee filter machine under the stairs that I haven’t used in ages. These days it’s all espresso or cafetiere. There is a jar of instant around for when I’m in a rush. Douwe Egbert’s which, if you pronounce it ‘Dewey Eggbutt’ in a Welsh accent, allows you to convince a passing idiot that it’s grown and processed in Wales. That really does work. I should be surprised, but I’m not.
There have been many Daily Mail attacks on the Red Bull style of canned wakey-water lately. I’m not going to look for an example right now, that would mean opening their website and the abrupt end of a good mood. I like canned wakey-water too, but I go for the four-for-a-pound ones in Farmfoods or Poundland. It’s an entirely synthetic chemical fizz, anyone can make it so why pay a pound per can? Lidl’s cost a little more than 25p each but they have added berry flavours. When spending £20 on a bottle of Ben Bracken, I’m not going to baulk at £1.79 for six cans of artificially flavoured chemical fizz. Yes, it owes its existence more to a chemistry lab than any tree, but I like it so I buy it.
The anti-caffeine movement has now come out into the open, as Junican notes. Coffee machines that turn themselves off after a while. Now hold on a minute here. In fact I will go so far as to ask you to hold on to a cotton picking minute, and those are slippery. Those heated bases under the coffee pots already turn themselves off. A lot. All the time the coffee is at the right temperature, the thermostat running the heater is off. If the heater was always on, the coffee would boil away and that thin glass jar would explode.
This is a trivial issue as far as power consumption goes. It is as nothing compared to the oven and hob and kettle and radiator that are generally in the same room as that little coffee machine. It’s like a power station blaming you for pollution because you left the light on… oh wait, that already happens.
So it is not about electrickery. As usual it is all about control. In the comments to Junican’s article, Rose points out where the anti-caffeine league get their ideas. Same place as all the others.
Just doing a Godwin there. The drones will be expecting it by now. Those few whose attention span allows them to get past the first paragraph, and if you are a drone who has got this far, well done. Keep it up. One day you might be able to read an entire Beano in one sitting and that would be something to write home about, if you could write.
I think we are now safe from drones. I have used far too many words and most of the drones will be stuck trying to pronounce ‘ministrations’ so will never get this far. Those who did will have left in an outraged huff at the previous paragraph.
It’s tax time in the UK. This year, Taxman has decided that my tax code for the janitor job is 0T. This means I get no tax relief at all on the job that currently produces most of my income. Since this was evident from last year’s tax form I can only conclude that the entire tax office is staffed by spite-ridden vicious thugs and/or idiots, but we already knew that anyway.
It also means that next year I will be claiming back almost all of the tax I pay for the next twelve months. This year’s tax form will not be left until the end of January. Like last year, it wil be filled in as soon as I have all the info I need. I pay as little tax as possible. Unlike the gentry and the rich folk, I cannot afford accountants to hide my money and there would be no point anyway because I don’t have any. My method is to earn just enough to cover the bills and make no use of my expensive training and decades of experience. I am not paying for my own persecution.
There is no way to not be self-employed now because of the books. Unless I take them all off sale I am always self-employed even though last year’s book income was no more than a few bottles of good single malt. I like making up stories. That will never end. It doesn’t pay well and probably never will. I’ll be claiming back loads of tax every year for the rest of my life.
Everyone should fill out a tax form every year. Everyone. Even those entirely on PAYE because the tax mob make ‘mistakes’ and have probably overcharged you. They get quite enough of your money as it is, don’t let them get away with taking more.
Ah, but we might all die of a nasty dose of asteroids. NASA confesses (to use the Daily Inquisitor parlance) that actually, they have no way of tracking every bit of rock that’s floating around in the infinity of rocky bugger-all that surrounds us. How could they? The rocks don’t all have yellow ‘wet floor’ signs on them because Elfin Safety only looks after the safety of elves and those little swines never get smitten with the asteroids.
It was a bad case of asteroids that did for the dinosaurs because they had not thought to develop Preparation H. Oh, and T. rex was done for anyway, his hands couldn’t reach his arse. Imagine that. T. rex never, ever, wiped. The tagnuts. The clinkers. The horror.
The itch. No wonder he was in such a bad mood. Imagine having an itchy arse and you can’t reach it. I’d bite the heads off animals too, in that situation. Especially animals that could scratch their own arses. Bastards.
We are doomed to eventiually be wiped out by the asteroids because they are on the way and there is nothing at all we can do aboui it. All this ‘ooo, we have to save the planet’ is utter nonsense when placed against a big rock that sees Earth and thinks ‘yeah, I’m going to smack that bitch up’.
Five inches of sea level rise? How about several kilotons of explosion right over your house? Which do you think will cause you more inconvenience?
We live on a big stone floating around in nothing and other stones bump into us often. We are also all going to die. Just to boost the cheery factor, we are ruled by people who think that the Earth is a constant and unchanging and who also demand that evolution is real while paying a lot of your money to conservationists who want to stop it happening and who think of nothing but little pieces of green paper.
Space rocks and the short span of human life are as nothing to them. They don’t believe in either.
If God made humanity, He made us as a joke.
A self-terminating joke.