Saturday, December 29, 2007


The storm we had last week was huge. Instead of little white hail stones, I had clear jagged lumps of ice hitting the glass around the house. I had Niagra Falls over every spouting because the downpipes couldn't cope nor could the drain in the carport so that flooded. To give you some idea of how much rain fell, I had the big yellow recycle bin emptied in the morning and that ended up half full of water. A neighbour had to help me tip it up to empty because I couldn't move it. I'm going to be thinking of that storm when the temperature hits 40 degrees plus on New Year's Eve.

Then we got more the next day and I rescued a dove. So I looked around for Noah and the Ark but only the dove. Poor little thing, its feathers were so drenched and it was so battered that it was staggering across a busy road. Regardless of my own safety (read stupid) I shepherded the wee bird to the grass verge where it recovered and flew away. My Christmas good deed.

This is what I love about Melbourne, I get to whinge about the rain and two weeks later I get to whinge about the heat. The heat not only makes me lie and down and do nothing (colour me expert) but it brings out the wildlife. Huntszilla number three was caught and chucked out late last night. This one was a little agressive and I had to chase it across the ceiling before it dropped into the bag. Number three might only be one and two getting back into the house and it certainly knew a trick or six about avoiding the bag, like backtracking out of my line of sight. Nerve-wracking in the small hours.

Mummsy is her usual sweet self. I told her I was dying, sorry, enhancing my natural colour and she said why didn't I go gray, "..... after all you are old now!" Okay, thanks, without that I might have forgotten. Just to make sure, I have Pavlov's Cat's middle age meme to do. The excitement of it all.

Bring on 2008, I have tickets in Tattslotto, I will be rich.


Brian Hughes said...

The dove goes free. The turkey gets stuffed. It's all swings and roundabouts in the end.

JahTeh said...

Please, good sir, I'm a vegetarian and I stuff Tofu.

Brian Hughes said...

In that case, the dove goes free and the sprout goes for a burton. As does the fresh air in the living room. (Well it does in my house after a large helping of sprouts.)

Mikhela said...

I do believe that huntspeople are territorial - it was probably the same one and it will be back again by now. You must have a very healthy ecosystem in your house.

JahTeh said...

What is it about sprouts and the English Christmas dinner? I've heard that they don't have them at any other time. A most peculiar race which I have reported to the home planet many times.

Mikhela, the ecosystem in this house is certainly thriving. I've had generations of Daddylonglegs living in a corner of the lounge. They get three days notice when I'm about to remove webs and they always return.

Brian Hughes said...


Mystery solved. Sprouts are a seasonal vegetable. They only reach perfection (if the word 'perfection' can be applied to a vegetable that induces wind, tastes like damp cardboard and is basically the Ronnie Corbett of the cabbage world) in December. The rest of year they're either under-ripe or brown and manky...a bit like Disney films.

Middle Child said...

Not as stupid as the dove though...glad it lived and you did too...thats some mum you've got there...if your're old what does that make her...? Was she always this nasty or is it just now? If always then a good smack in the chops may have been needed when she grew up and still

JahTeh said...

It must be just English sprouts, Oz sprouts are delicious, steamed, lemon butter and fresh black pepper or baked in a potato and leek frittata. Maybe stir fried with garlic and chilli then added to flat rice noodles then drizzled with ginger and soy sauce.

Never as bad as this Therese, it's just her mouth is disconnected to her brain these days. She doesn't remember what she's said which is what is making trouble as the relos believe everything she says.