Tuesday, August 31, 2004

Is there anybody out there?

Eddie Izzard was on a local radio station in Scotland. It was a chat programme. He waited for someone to call in. Nobody called. He said £5 to the first person to call. Nobody called. He upped the amount to £10. Nobody called.

He then offered a tenth of whatever fee he was getting for the show. Nobody called. He then offered the whole fee. Nobody called.

He upped the ante and offered all of the money in his current account. Nobody called. He gave out the precise details of his bank account. Nobody called

He came to the conclusion that the radio was broadcasting and nobody was listening.

I fear it is the same with Blogging. I write and nobody reads. I guess that is the fate of the majority of bloggers.

I made a new blog of complete nonsence called Gardener Guy

I have had two coments in it. Eddie Izzard eat your heart out

Monday, August 23, 2004

Robert Burns (1759-1796)

From "man was made to mourn"

But see him on the edge of life
with cares and sorrows torn,
then age and want - that ill matched pair
prove man was made to mourn.

So here I am unemployed in Finland and getting no money from Kela as yet. The season of mellow fruitfulness is closing in. The leaves of the lily of the valley flowers in the forest are turning yellow. The rose hips are turning red. Seeds are forming on flower-heads. Everything is ripening.

In England they will have harvest festivals in churches.

In Finland the summer-houses will be tidied up for the end of the season and the platforms will be pulled from the cooling water of the lakes. The rowing boats will be turned over and stored away for the winter. Everything is being packed up and stowed away.

Thursday, August 05, 2004

Jungle of weeds or garden of Eden

Nature is wild if you don't get it under control. The green stuff just shoots up and the weeds and nettles and thistles swamp everything. But somethimes it does look lovely in its wildness. Weeds seem to get on well with each other. They leave space, they give support, they festoon, they garland, they bedeck, they spead. Weeds must have a purpose. It is just that we have never discovered it.

Then again there are some weeds that just seeth and spit at you. They are snarling nasty, with thousands of seeds ready to attack the earth and make your life a misery. They explode and shoot them selves in the air. They stick to your clothes. The have their own little parachutes and spread themselves afar. They are colonisers. They go to land that is free. Weeds are like refugees. Always being uprooted, and everybody attempts to irradicate them. They are always looking for new land.

But if you are an old woman from Irak you have grown beans that can compete with the weeds. You wear an apron and gather the beans into it. Beans are for old lazy gardeners. Beans are for people who understand weeds and leave them alone. Beans fix fitrogen from the atmosphere and improve the fertility of the soil. Bart Simpson knew all about beans. "Beans Beans the musical fruit the more you eat the more you toot" Beans have 28% protein in them as have all legumes. They are better for you than beef-steak says the man from the USAD as he chomps on his T-bone. Beans are good for refugees. Fillet steak for everyone else in the West.

If you are a muslim man from Irak you can rest under Koff sunshade, and be impervious to the fact that it is an advert for beer. Water the marrows plant the celery, harvest the radishes. Cook chicken in a hole in the ground and smoke a hooka. Embrace your friends with a hug and go into the bushes to pray to mecca. The sun is good. The weather is fine. The children will be fed with fresh vegatables. If only it was always summer and the nights long, and the air better than a meal.

If you are a hippy you can build an arch and decorate it with flowers. You can make it to frame the Jet petrol station, and every time you look though it another car will break down, and every time you walk though it ten more people will use public transport. An as the petals and leaves fall from the flowers another oil well will run dry.

Vile rodents

See this is what you get. Your potatoes eaten by some rodent. Some vermin creeping about in the dark of night burrowing in the ground and eating your potatoes. Not eating it whole but munching here and there. Nibbiling with their nasty little teeth. Eyes bigger than their bellies.

Naw they are lovely little things. Just like wasps and scorpions, and vampire bats and slugs and snails, and spiders and fire ants. Looks like nature takes what it wants and leave the rest.

But some preditors are bigger than others. They come with forks and dig up basketfuls of potatoes and carry them away. They will only let them rot is some damp basement and will never be able to eat them all. Greedy vermin these humans!!!

Tuesday, August 03, 2004


Loudon Winwright III Cambridge Concert

The man himself performing White Winos and the Presidents song. Well worth watching. The first song about his dog is funny.

Why should you listen to Loudon Wainwright.

  • You too will be old one day
  • You will know the things old people do to survive
  • You will realise it is OK to be old
  • You will know it is OK to be grumpy
  • You will experiance the pain of getting old.
  • You will realise that getting up to pee at three is normal
  • You will come to understand the truism that you will be fired before you can quit.
  • You will know the imposibility of keeping contact with those you used to care for.
  • You can relax and think somebodies got a shittier life than me.
  • He will make you smile.