Found this in one of the gardens. It looked like someone had made a bit of a camp in between some trees and this was left in the middle. I’m not sure what it is, but it moves in an out like a pump and makes a whistly sound sometimes. I thought it might be a bird caller, but much of the time it doesn’t make a bird call noise at all, more like a wheezy gasp. Could it be a wheezy-smoker caller? After all, smokers have become pretty unpopular these days. My colleague Jessica has to walk out of sight of her block of flats to have a cigarette or her neighbours complain. Which is ironic because apparently they’ve had a number of dawn drug raids, but they still consider her to be the troublemaker to be kept at a distance.
Anyway, maybe the wheezy-smoker caller is to round up all the smokers and take them to a safe place far from where anyone else might be breathing. Harsh, I know. I’m glad I have it now and the smokers are safe.
And then, I found this too:
I’m less confused by what this is. I reckon it’s the kind of thing a serious hiker would have. It has a thermometre on one side and a compass on the other. I’m assuming a mountain guide owned it as they led a troop of thrill seekers through the treacherous mountains of London. I only hope our plucky guide still has their machete and crampons. It’s a bleak world out there, but presumably they’ve been trained in the art of finding their way by tube.
Do you think if I stand in Trafalgar Square tomorrow and blow it I’ll get a group of tourists to guide? And what will come if I blow the whistle and use the wheezy smoker caller at the same time?
So, I’m back at work and it’s great to see everyone again and be outside tackling some plants.
It’s all quite odd though, everything is not quite the same, little details have shifted. I’ll get some pictures tomorrow. It’s as if someone gave all of London a makeover. And then almost all Londoners have changed too. We hide our faces. We aren’t rushing, instead we keep our distance. No more stand on the right, walk on the left on escalators, now everybody stands. And there are police everywhere.
At work, my colleagues are just like they always were – cheery, lovable oddballs. But with longer hair. The guys have either slicked back styles or new wavy locks.
I feel like this is a puny blog, so here is a fella I read about this morning, the monkey slug caterpillar, Phobetron. They aren’t anything to do with monkeys or slugs, but they are caterpillars. Aren’t they incredible?
I have tagged this Lifestyle, because this is my covid lifestyle, watching fox cubs. And here are some words for such a lifestyle.
Deponent – having a passive form but active meaning (I feel this sums me up at the moment, because I definitely mean to be active, but my form is passive.)
Stygian – having a gloomy or foreboding aspect; murky (not sure if this is my mood or the mood of the world today)
Medusiform – resembling a jellyfish (self explanatory).
Along with watching foxes, I went out to buy some milk and watched a bit of Seven Psychopaths ( I haven’t the concentration to watch a whole film at once). And I decided to stop trying to write a book that was annoying me, and start writing a new one. It went quite well too. I might start another new one when this one gets annoying. Maybe I can sell them on to people who have trouble starting writing.
There’s this guy that I’ve seen at the end of my road a few times and I’m trying to figure him out. He’s tall, good looking with little dreads and always wears shorts and a singlet. The first time I saw him was a few weeks ago, he was outside my house when I was on the other side of the road and he was sprinting up and down, as if in a very small race. The next time, a few days later, he was at the end of the road having a dance. There wasn’t any music playing, but he was boogying away. An older gentleman looked over as he passed and dreaded-guy gave a ‘Cuh! Funny old world, isn’t it?’ expression.
I saw him a few days ago standing on the steps of what I guess is his house, just up the road, which is a fairly normal thing to do. But the way he did it was just a bit too superheroey, you know? Hands on waist, scanning the street for trouble. It was spoiled briefly when a little old lady who I guess also lives there, asked him to move.
Then today I got a shock when I saw him four feet in the air. He was standing, steady as you like on a pavement bollard. I went to my doorstep and looked back and he was still there, but threw something (looked like a cape) to the ground and then leapt down.
Now bloggers, you’ve helped me before, what’s going on here? He doesn’t look distressed or unkempt in any way, in fact just the opposite. So is he:
A superhero in training?
An exhibitionist who is used to getting compliments, but is missing out due to covid?
So yesterday I went to get some crisps from the cupboard, because such is my covid diet, when I spotted a fox in the garden. And she wasn’t alone, she had the cubs with her! I watched them for a while skipping about, tumbling, playing tag, playing football with the two footballs left by the kid from downstairs. Meanwhile the mum hung out keeping an eye. Finally they all tumbled out through the fence. then two tumbled back in, kicked the football a few more times and ran out again.
I knew mama-fox wouldn’t be scared of me after I walked into that tree! Worth it!
note: It occurs to me I’m assuming that this is a female fox because they’re with cubs, but I believe both male and female parents stay with cubs, so one parent must have died. Which means this might be a male or female. And I am sexist, sorry!
Tomorrow I release the next three chapters of my book, so for those of you reading, I hope you’re enjoying it. And for those of you not reading, well, I shall be pestering you!
“When you throw everything up in the air anything becomes possible.”
― Salman Rushdie, The Satanic Verses
doki doki (Japanese) the anxiety when someone is doing something nervewracking
Note: this word interpretation comes from a dictionary of mine, and I checked online for accuracy. There I found another interpretation, which may mean the above isn’t right (anyone out there speak Japanese?) However, much as I like the above interpretation, I also like the online one, so here it is:
ドキドキ (dokidoki) is a word that mimics the sound of a beating heart. It is used to describe physical/emotional excitement or racing of the heart. It can indicate that someone is thrilled, excited, or nervous
psychiasis – healing of the soul or psyche (something we don’t focus on enough in society)
quoz – absurd person or thing (my favourite kind of person or thing)
How are you all doing? I think I may be getting the hang of this isolation thing, (my biggest problem right now is that a neighbour is playing Amazing Grace extremely loud) but I know many of you aren’t or have serious problems to deal with right now, so please share. Communication is good!
“Prime numbers are what is left when you have taken all the patterns away. I think prime numbers are like life. They are very logical but you could never work out the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them.”
― Mark Haddon, The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time
Word of the day: Galeanthropy– belief that one is a cat
We were all walking to the shed this morning to get tooled up, when we spotted the deceased animal below. It’s not uncommon to find dead things around, but we can usually work out what they are, even if they’ve been chewed. But this? What is this? I’m sure I can see five feet of various sizes, but no head. Is it a baby bird knocked out of a nest for being a mutant? Nature is harsh.
In our fancy new messroom, we have a fancy new clock. It connects to a satellite so that the time can be always super accurate. Everybody has avoided setting it because it looks too complicated, however, today Mateo decided to go for it. He put the battery in and moved the hands round to the correct time. The clock disagreed (presumably after connecting to the satellite) and moved the hands back round to the wrong time. He tried again. Again the clock took control. By his fourth attempt we were all watching enthralled (breaks can be dull) cheering as he set the right time, groaning and howling as the clock undid his work with its sophisticated wizardry. Finally he resorted to the instructions.
‘It says I only need to press this for 3 seconds and that connects it to the satellite. It will move the hands to twelve first, and then to the correct time,’ said Mateo, doubtfully. But he did it and then the hands began to move. They moved to twelve and for a moment we thought this was it, fancy clock knew what it was doing, it reached twelve thirty, the right time, but then kept on going. Finally landing on a time five hours and thirteen minutes out. We had to take the clock off Mateo to stop its destruction.
It is now hanging on the wall, telling us lies, but we hope since it’s closer to the satellite up there, it will figure things out eventually. This is the problem as our technology gets cleverer than us, it gets defiant, it sneers at our puny desires to know the time. It wants to explore possibilities, experiment, and ultimately destroy us all with lasers. Satellite connected lasers.
This morning I was making my way to the station, when I think a guy threatened to punch me. It was very odd.
I was walking beside a main road, when I saw him coming towards me on my side of the pavement. He wasn’t big, but he was wiry, tense and with a look of utter rage and hatred, staring straight at me. At about fifteen feet away, he began punching at the air in front of him, all the while looking at me. I stepped to one side so that I wasn’t in his path, he stepped to the same side, still punching. I stopped, not sure what else to do. He kept coming, still punching, I didn’t move. Finally he stopped and stood in front of me, fists flailing in my direction, but not quite reaching. I stared at him trying to find an expression that didn’t look scared or aggressive, I probably just looked blank. Then with a jabbing finger he pointed to one side, presumably to suggest I walk around him. I did, waiting for him to thump me as I walked past, he didn’t and I caught the train. Too strange to deal with at seven in the morning.
At work we got guilted into using the new mess room.
‘We redecorated this for you all! Why aren’t you in it? Don’t you like it?’
So the smokers sat outside the new room on rocks (no benches here) and the rest of us sat inside on the most uncomfortable chairs in the world. They have some fancy new ergonomic design (remember they were acquired from another business that was throwing them out) and they slope downwards. So when you sit on one, you slowly slide off. The only way to stay on the chair is to constantly press your feet against the floor. This is fucking up my back. I’m going to pinch an old, battered wooden chair from one of the gardens and put that inside.
Word of the day: orey-eyed – expressing anger through the eyes