Wednesday, 5 March 2008

I saw something nasty in the woodshed

Well I did the other week, but (and here is the cue for a trumpet fanfare of gigantic proportions) the area up by the aviary is looking rather nice now that all the piles of unwanted bric-a-brac have been removed and deposited in the local municipal tip. Thanks to Graham’s sterling work the aviary is now complete and, apart from the imminent planting of some suitable greenery, is basically ready for its new occupants. What the new residents of it will be, I am not too sure yet, but I am sure they will enjoy the spacious accommodation and pleasant vista of open pasture next to them.

Arabella surpassed herself today and laid not one, not two, but three eggs! Must be the time of year. Also, one of our mice has had babies. Four tiny bundles of stripey sweetness.

You may notice from my ‘whistle while I work’ section that I have been in somewhat of an Amon Amarth mood this last month or so. I simply can’t get enough of the long-haired fellas from Sweden. Yeah OK they may screech out the lyrics in a - probably to some - incomprehensible way, but I can assure you that the words to the songs are well worth listening to. Most are based on Norse mythology, and are powerful, if not a little bloody in places.

In case any of you may be interested in their background, Wikipedia states thus: Amon Amarth is a Viking-themed melodic death metal band from Tumba, Sweden founded in 1992. It is named after a location in J. R. R. Tolkien's Middle-earth. The name means "Mount Doom" in Sindarin, one of Tolkien's Elvish languages. The band was originally known as Scum, and released a single demo under that name in 1988 before changing their name to Amon Amarth in 1992. And there you have it.

Those of you who may have read my last blog may be wondering whether the absent items have been returned to their respective places. I am happy to report that yes – apart from some mugs – all seem to have made their way back to their cupboards – measuring jug included. I know who the guilty party is and no, I shall not name names – that would be too shameful of me.

This weekend we are off to the Big Cat Conference which is being held this year at Tropiquaria – not too far which is nice - from a driving point of view - and also because it will be in lovely surroundings. It also means that when the need for an occasional rest from our book stall arises, and when there is a lull in the proceedings, I shall be able to seek out the company of Odo (the gibbon), or have a quiet contemplative sit in the Tropical Hall in the company of the sweet roul roul partridge and Stanley the macaw. Heaven.

Sunday would also have been my late father's birthday. That will be a tough one to cope with.

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