A seagull tried to dive-bomb me this morning. Gaz warned me last week that this sort of thing went on around here, but I assumed he was just some sort of bird magnet because in almost a year of living here I'd never encountered any territorial seabirds.
But I had just set off and was listening to Hospice by The Antlers* when I heard a squawk. I turned around and found myself eye-to-eye with a frowny looking seagull, swooping towards me at about head height.
I ducked, and once this mad-eyed thing had passed over me I ran, quite fast.
But anyway! This blog isn't supposed to be about my morning jolt of SHEER BIRD TERROR. It's supposed to be my triumphant return to blogging after a week or so without updates. We managed to ruin another computer and we had to wait a few days for Sarah's dad to sort us aht, but all is well now.
So how are you? Good?
Joel.
Showing posts with label vermin. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vermin. Show all posts
Tuesday, 12 July 2011
Sunday, 13 March 2011
They Walk Among Us
Glancing earlier over the pile of junk mail that's currently carpeting our hallway I came across an envelope addressed to someone named "Fang Fang". This is the second piece of post that Fang Fang has received, and frankly it's starting to worry me.
And my worry is that there's a vampire in the house. You always hope the landlord will fill you in on things like this before you move in, but I guess the sell just comes first nowadays.
Even the letter's sender - S.P. Spyrou - has a pretty vampiric name. Spyrou & Co. claim to be chartered accountants but I suspect this is a cover for some sort of vampire cult. Spyrou is probably head vampire, and is trying to inform our lodger that the time has come to rise up and purge humanity from the Earth's wretched face. In which case humanity is damned lucky that I intercepted this.
But where is he/she/it (there's not even a 'Mr.' or 'Miss' or anything on the envelope; it just says "Fang Fang") hiding? There aren't exactly a wealth of hiding places in this house, and even if Fang Fang were taking refuge in the garage then Pete and Meic would probably have noticed him by now.
Or maybe they already have. Pete has started putting candles out there now - he bought a pack from Spar just yesterday - so perhaps he's befriended our undead stowaway and he's trying to make the atmosphere out there a little more Gothic for him.
I think that's probably it. So the only question that remains is thus: is "Fang Fang" a full name (first name Fang, second name Fang, like the Mario brothers)? Or maybe vampires don't have surnames, maybe they just have these aptronymic, one-word-twice titles.
Like Bam Bam from the Flintstones.
Joel.
And my worry is that there's a vampire in the house. You always hope the landlord will fill you in on things like this before you move in, but I guess the sell just comes first nowadays.
Even the letter's sender - S.P. Spyrou - has a pretty vampiric name. Spyrou & Co. claim to be chartered accountants but I suspect this is a cover for some sort of vampire cult. Spyrou is probably head vampire, and is trying to inform our lodger that the time has come to rise up and purge humanity from the Earth's wretched face. In which case humanity is damned lucky that I intercepted this.
But where is he/she/it (there's not even a 'Mr.' or 'Miss' or anything on the envelope; it just says "Fang Fang") hiding? There aren't exactly a wealth of hiding places in this house, and even if Fang Fang were taking refuge in the garage then Pete and Meic would probably have noticed him by now.
Or maybe they already have. Pete has started putting candles out there now - he bought a pack from Spar just yesterday - so perhaps he's befriended our undead stowaway and he's trying to make the atmosphere out there a little more Gothic for him.
I think that's probably it. So the only question that remains is thus: is "Fang Fang" a full name (first name Fang, second name Fang, like the Mario brothers)? Or maybe vampires don't have surnames, maybe they just have these aptronymic, one-word-twice titles.
Like Bam Bam from the Flintstones.
Joel.
Saturday, 18 September 2010
Cliffey's PS3/Fruit Flies!
Well, it was bound to happen eventually, given that using the internet right now means having to borrow someone else's computer, or their iPod, or going to the library, or going home. So I apologise for missing yesterday's update, but if you want a scapegoat to blame then Virgin Media will do nicely. I take pleasure, however, in the knowledge that we've signed up for e-billing, and I won't be able to pay the bills if I can't get on the 'net and read my emails.
So, with my computer still out of action, Cutlery is once again coming to you from Cardiff central library. I'm listening to Consolers of the Lonely by The Raconteurs and I'm raring to make up for lost ground.
Not long after the last update went up, Cliffey managed to fix his PS3, and there was much rejoicing. Somebody trod on it at the first party, you see, and the HDMI cable snapped off while it was still inside the console. Cliffey, of course, was not best pleased, but help was at hand in the form of a man and a website.
When the Virgin man came to install our phone and our TV and our internet that doesn't work properly, Cliffey told him of his plight, and, taking pity, our hero grabbed a pair of pliers and extracted the broken-off bit of cable from the console. Pete mumbled that he could have done the same if someone hadn't stolen his Leatherman at the first party, but Cliffey still had a problem in that he didn't have a cable to replace the broken one. And even if he did, who could say whether or not the PS3 itself had survived the being trodden on incident intact?
All Cliffey could do was leap and see where he landed. He logged on to eBay, and found an HDMI cable for about £3. It wasn't a huge loss, he reasoned, and if there was the slightest chance that it might revive his PS3 then it would be worth it.
The cable arrived while Cliffey was at work, and when he returned home form his shift, instead of eating or going to bed, the first thing he did was rip open the package, cross his fingers, and try the cable out.
And it worked. Success! No longer would we have to play Fifa '98 on the N64, longing for the almost too realistic face of Wayne Rooney in Fifa '10. No longer would we have to play Robot Wars: Arenas of Destruction on an outdated console. No longer would Cliffey have to swallow his sobs as he passed Soph's room, knowing that she had a working PS3 that hadn't been trodden on.
This whole story is second-hand, by the way. I had very little involvement in the whole episode, so sorry if I got any of the information wrong.
Now for some general house news. Our supply of sticky notes was decimated at the second party, because some delightful people decided to draw dicks on all of them. It's regrettable; we can still write on the greyish bit of cardboard underneath, but it's just not as cheerful.
Having said that, a deficit of post-it notes will almost certainly reduce the number of passive-aggressive notes regarding leftover food, of which there have been one or two of late. We are harbouring one or two fruit flies at the moment, and a few different people (I'm naming nobody) have a few different ideas as to what's bringing them in.
Personally, I think it's the smell coming from Soph's room.
Joel.
P.S. Last night was interesting too but I'll save that for another time. As I missed yesterday's update I'll do one tomorrow to make up for it.
So, with my computer still out of action, Cutlery is once again coming to you from Cardiff central library. I'm listening to Consolers of the Lonely by The Raconteurs and I'm raring to make up for lost ground.
Not long after the last update went up, Cliffey managed to fix his PS3, and there was much rejoicing. Somebody trod on it at the first party, you see, and the HDMI cable snapped off while it was still inside the console. Cliffey, of course, was not best pleased, but help was at hand in the form of a man and a website.
When the Virgin man came to install our phone and our TV and our internet that doesn't work properly, Cliffey told him of his plight, and, taking pity, our hero grabbed a pair of pliers and extracted the broken-off bit of cable from the console. Pete mumbled that he could have done the same if someone hadn't stolen his Leatherman at the first party, but Cliffey still had a problem in that he didn't have a cable to replace the broken one. And even if he did, who could say whether or not the PS3 itself had survived the being trodden on incident intact?
All Cliffey could do was leap and see where he landed. He logged on to eBay, and found an HDMI cable for about £3. It wasn't a huge loss, he reasoned, and if there was the slightest chance that it might revive his PS3 then it would be worth it.
The cable arrived while Cliffey was at work, and when he returned home form his shift, instead of eating or going to bed, the first thing he did was rip open the package, cross his fingers, and try the cable out.
And it worked. Success! No longer would we have to play Fifa '98 on the N64, longing for the almost too realistic face of Wayne Rooney in Fifa '10. No longer would we have to play Robot Wars: Arenas of Destruction on an outdated console. No longer would Cliffey have to swallow his sobs as he passed Soph's room, knowing that she had a working PS3 that hadn't been trodden on.
This whole story is second-hand, by the way. I had very little involvement in the whole episode, so sorry if I got any of the information wrong.
Now for some general house news. Our supply of sticky notes was decimated at the second party, because some delightful people decided to draw dicks on all of them. It's regrettable; we can still write on the greyish bit of cardboard underneath, but it's just not as cheerful.
Having said that, a deficit of post-it notes will almost certainly reduce the number of passive-aggressive notes regarding leftover food, of which there have been one or two of late. We are harbouring one or two fruit flies at the moment, and a few different people (I'm naming nobody) have a few different ideas as to what's bringing them in.
Personally, I think it's the smell coming from Soph's room.
Joel.
P.S. Last night was interesting too but I'll save that for another time. As I missed yesterday's update I'll do one tomorrow to make up for it.
Friday, 3 September 2010
Slugs!
This edition of Cutlery comes to you from the computers in Cathays library, because - and this is a confesson - the house doesn't have an internet connection yet. So far I've been returning to my family's house to update this, but I felt it was about time I went a whole day without going home.
So here I am. Up 'til now I've spent most of the day indoors, because we're due a visit from a) the window repairman (see previous blog) and b) our landlord, who is coming to discuss, among other things, setting up an internet connection. Gem, Soph and Cliffey are all out, but thankfully Pete woke up about an hour ago and very kindly agreed to hold the fort for a bit while I went out for some fresh air.
Since last I updated, I have filled my cupboard with food and moved the remainder of my stuff in, including my TV, my PS1, my DVD player, my Make Your Own Monopoly board, and, well, pretty much all my fun stuff. Today I have watched Dodgeball, played Rayman, and watched as Danny Murphy punched one of JR's German footballers on FIFA '98, but lest this turn into Tales of the Idle I'll wrap this paragraph up and explain the post title.
At around 3.20 last night, Sarah woke me up and told me that Pete wanted me in the kitchen. I asked why, and she informed me that the kitchen was full of slugs.
Being still half-asleep, I panicked. Until moments ago I had been dreaming peacefully about a city made from Lego, and now I had to face an army of slugs trying to eat my battenburg. At first, I refused to leave the bed because, as I told Sarah, "I can't deal with slugs".
But eventually I managed to steel myself and go take a look. I was relieved to learn that the slug armada had failed to reach my food supply, and Pete had already disposed of most of their troops, but jeez. There were two on the floor when I arrived; apparently there had been as many as 7.
And the worst part is that we can't work out how they got in. The doors and windows were all shut, and the scattered trails of slime were of no help, neither leading nor coming from anyway.
So that's another thing I may have to take up with Paul the Landlord. The computer has informed me that my NetLoan session ends soon, so I shall hastily sign off and log out.
Until next time,
Joel.
So here I am. Up 'til now I've spent most of the day indoors, because we're due a visit from a) the window repairman (see previous blog) and b) our landlord, who is coming to discuss, among other things, setting up an internet connection. Gem, Soph and Cliffey are all out, but thankfully Pete woke up about an hour ago and very kindly agreed to hold the fort for a bit while I went out for some fresh air.
Since last I updated, I have filled my cupboard with food and moved the remainder of my stuff in, including my TV, my PS1, my DVD player, my Make Your Own Monopoly board, and, well, pretty much all my fun stuff. Today I have watched Dodgeball, played Rayman, and watched as Danny Murphy punched one of JR's German footballers on FIFA '98, but lest this turn into Tales of the Idle I'll wrap this paragraph up and explain the post title.
At around 3.20 last night, Sarah woke me up and told me that Pete wanted me in the kitchen. I asked why, and she informed me that the kitchen was full of slugs.
Being still half-asleep, I panicked. Until moments ago I had been dreaming peacefully about a city made from Lego, and now I had to face an army of slugs trying to eat my battenburg. At first, I refused to leave the bed because, as I told Sarah, "I can't deal with slugs".
But eventually I managed to steel myself and go take a look. I was relieved to learn that the slug armada had failed to reach my food supply, and Pete had already disposed of most of their troops, but jeez. There were two on the floor when I arrived; apparently there had been as many as 7.
And the worst part is that we can't work out how they got in. The doors and windows were all shut, and the scattered trails of slime were of no help, neither leading nor coming from anyway.
So that's another thing I may have to take up with Paul the Landlord. The computer has informed me that my NetLoan session ends soon, so I shall hastily sign off and log out.
Until next time,
Joel.
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