Clodhoppers

booty

2009-07-07T15:21:00.004Z

There is not point whatever to this picture of a boot attached to a hairy leg.

I cleaned out the flask in the water butt so the plants will be getting a homeopathic dose of coffee when I next water. The dilution will be about one part in a hundred million so the plants should be totally wired after and not be able to sleep properly. I am a cruel person.

When I fall off my bike, I do not want to go to a homeopathic hospital.

chick crumbs

2009-07-07T15:05:00.003Z

This chick did not get the pampered treatment of the others and has lived since she was hatched up on the plot.

Since she is doing so well I've come to the conclusion that chicks are much hardier than the books would have me believe.

guttagirls

2009-07-07T15:03:00.002Z

There is always a use for an old piece of guttering.

doll with broll

2009-06-28T14:03:00.004Z

We got up to the plot Saturday afternoon and the heavens opened up.

Rain on hot earth produces the most wonderful perfume that has never been invented.

After the downpour it soon got hot and muggy again though. The soil needed that drink badly. More hot sweatiness next week it seems.

Waddleyouknow

2009-06-28T13:47:00.003Z

Waddle-you-do and Waddle-you-don't are now proud mum and dad to four beautiful East Indian Black ducklings. There were five but, alas, one didn't make it. She is a fiercly protective mum and launches a full scale attack if you come anywhere near them. The clodlet is obviously very proud too.

The Wholly Sprt (hic!)

2009-06-23T13:07:00.004Z

It's great to be bringing bucket loads of lovely fruit and veg home to put straight on the dinner table. These rocket potatoes are just er....out of this world.

I think though, all in all, things may be looking up and I may be spending a lot more time in church thanks to the Bishop or Worcester.

"A senior bishop has backed the move, which is part of a Church of England initiative to put a Christian emphasis on the annual celebration of fatherhood.

Concerns over the lack of men attending services year-round has led clergy to offer a range of incentives today, including free beer, bacon rolls and chocolate bars.

It is the first time that the Church has attempted to treat Fathers' Day in the same way as Mothering Sunday, which has traditionally formed part of its calendar.

The plan to distribute ale has upset groups working to tackle alchohol abuse, but the Rt Rev John Inge, the Bishop of Worcester, said that it could help churches to attract more men.

He argued that the free beer was intended to be symbolic of "the generosity of God".

Men at St Stephen's church in Barbourne, Worcester, will be handed bottles of beer by children during the service. A prayer will be said for the fathers before the gifts are distributed.

The Ven Roger Morris, archdeacon of Worcester, who will be leading the service at St Stephen's today, said that it was a practical way of sending a message to fathers.

"I don't see any other time that we can stop and remember fathers, and this is a gesture saying 'Here's something that will bless you,'" he said. "

I am wondering though, dear reader, whether or not to hold out for the sofa, the plasma screen TV, the bacon bun and a beer before popping along. ~Whaddya think?

the o'conner chronicles#3

2009-06-03T12:36:00.001Z

I did get a reply from Cormac. He basically said that his comments on transcendence had been misunderstood (to a certain extent) and that in no way did he wish to diminish the humanity of a first rate chappie like myself. Non first rate chappies though seem to be fair game.

I suppose all the perpetrators of the vileness outlined in the Ryan report are all first rate chappies and chappesses and the extra dimension added to their lives by belief in god simply make them immune from prosecution.

Funny old world innit? Not saying what you mean. Not meaning what you say.

Leads to this sort of thing.

Irish Times Editorial - 21 May 2009

2009-05-23T11:10:00.002Z

The savage reality of our darkest days

THE REPORT of the Commission to Inquire into Child Abuse is the map of an Irish hell. It defines the contours of a dark hinterland of the State, a parallel country whose existence we have long known but never fully acknowledged. It is a land of pain and shame, of savage cruelty and callous indifference.

The instinct to turn away from it, repelled by its profoundly unsettling ugliness, is almost irresistible. We owe it, though, to those who have suffered there to acknowledge from now on that it is an inescapable part of Irish reality. We have to deal with the now-established fact that, alongside the warmth and intimacy, the kindness and generosity of Irish life, there was, for most of the history of the State, a deliberately maintained structure of vile and vicious abuse.

Mr Justice Ryan’s report does not suggest that this abuse was as bad as most of us suspected. It shows that it was worse. It may indeed have been even worse than the report actually finds – there are indications that “the level of sexual abuse in boys’ institutions was much higher than was revealed by the records or could be discovered by this investigation”.

With a calm but relentless accumulation of facts, the report blows away all the denials and obfuscations, all the moral equivocations and evasions that we have heard from some of the religious orders and their apologists. The sheer scale and longevity of the torment inflicted on defenceless children – over 800 known abusers in over 200 institutions during a period of 35 years – should alone make it clear that it was not accidental or opportunistic but systematic.

Violence and neglect were not the result of underfunding – the large institutions, where the worst abuse was inflicted, were “well-resourced”. The failure of the religious orders to stop these crimes did not result from ignorance. The recidivist nature of child sexual abusers was understood by the Brothers, who nonetheless continued deliberately to place known offenders in charge of children, both in industrial schools and in ordinary primary schools. At best, this represented what the report calls “a callous disregard for the safety of children”. At worst, it was an active protection of, and thus collusion with, the perpetrators of appalling crimes.

Nor did the abuse continue because of secrecy. Again, the very scale of the violence made it impossible to keep it sealed off from either officialdom or society at large. Contemporary complaints were made to the Garda, to the Department of Education, to health boards, to priests and to members of the public. The department, “deferential and submissive” to the religious congregations, did not shout stop. Neither did anyone else. Indeed, perhaps the most shocking finding of the commission is that industrial school inmates were often sexually exploited by those outside the closed world of the congregations, by “volunteer workers, visitors, work placement employees, foster parents” and by those who took them out for holidays or to work.

The key to understanding these attitudes is surely to realise that abuse was not a failure of the system. It was the system. Terror was both the point of these institutions and their standard operating procedure. Their function in Irish society was to impose social control, particularly on the poor, by acting as a threat. Without the horror of an institution like Letterfrack, it could not fulfil that function. Within the institutions, terror was systematic and deliberate. It was a methodology handed down through “successive generations of Brothers, priests and nuns”.

There is a nightmarish quality to this systemic malice, reminiscent of authoritarian regimes. We read of children “flogged, kicked . . . scalded, burned and held under water”. We read of deliberate psychological torment inflicted through humiliation, expressions of contempt and the practice of incorrectly telling children that their parents were dead. We read of returned absconders having their heads shaved and of “ritualised” floggings in one institution.

We have to call this kind of abuse by its proper name – torture. We must also call the organised exploitation of unpaid child labour – young girls placed in charge of babies “on a 24-hour basis” or working under conditions of “great suffering” in the rosary bead industry; young boys doing work that gave them no training but made money for the religious orders – by its proper name: slavery. It demands a very painful adjustment of our notions of the nature of the State to accept that it helped to inflict torture and slavery on tens of thousands of children. In the light of the commission’s report, however, we can no longer take comfort in evasions.

* * *

Almost unbearable though it may be, it is important that everyone who can do so should read and absorb this report. We owe that especially to those victims who first broke the silence on the RTÉ documentaries Dear Daughter and States of Fear and to those who came forward to tell their stories to the commission. It is to be hoped that, in spite of the failure of the religious congregations to take full responsibility for what happened, those who have suffered have found some comfort in that process and in a report of such unflinching lucidity.

Most importantly, though, we owe it to all who are vulnerable in today’s Irish society. For their sakes, we need to know what happens when institutions acquire absolute power over defenceless people and when the State and society come to believe that it is better to collude in crimes than to challenge cherished beliefs. Mr Justice Ryan suggests the erection of a monument to the victims of abuse with the words of the State’s 1999 apology inscribed on it. That should happen, but the real monument will be that we inscribe on our collective consciousness as a society the two words “Never again”.

the o'conner chronicles#2

2009-05-22T10:26:00.002Z

Sorry folks. I am not going to let up on this.

They have 'installed' the new Archbishop of Westminster, Vincent Nicols, which makes him sound a bit like a new boiler.

It comes a little rich from the outgoing encumbant Cormack Murphy O'Connor who, as one of the leaders of the biggest transnational paedophile ring in history (with personal form -remember Michael Hill?) - sais now that the inability to believe in god is the greatest of all evils, greater than sin itself.

Dear readers, you know how evil I am don't you? For your very souls sake you should stop reading at once and seek forgivness for clicking on clodhopper and reading his vile, bigoted, corrupt and evil posts.

Esther asks 'why do I get so worked up about this'? I will tell you. Because I am sick and tired of, as my friend Philip puts it - "this constant bullying, this constant insinuation that I am a bad person, that I am beneath contempt in the eyes of my fellow human beings."

His words hold echoes of the inquisition - the witch hunts, the torture and burning of heretics. The brutal contempt for those of good hearts who cherish all living things yet are damned to the torments of an eternity in hells fire because of an 'inability' to believe. In a way he is of course correct about belief. As MJ put it "Hitler did not believe in Santa Claus and look what he did". He did however believe in god and his cosy concordat with the catholic church. And now you will want to mention Stalin won't you? Well the whole point about him is that he set himself up as a god on this earth and learned from and adopted the same techniques and tactics as the church I.E. you will believe it, or you will die.

So in the week where it is revealed that 35,000 children in Ireland have been subject to systemic abuse in catholic institutions what would you suppose would make the front page of the Catholic Herald? Well, here are the headlines -

Archbishop calls for new dialogue in Britain

Government to allow vote on assisted suicide

President Obama is heckled at Notre Dame

Papal spokesman: Judge Pope on teaching, not soundbites

State-funded agency insults opponents of gay adoption

......and if you look really hard you find, in small print......

IN THE PAPER THIS WEEK
Archbishop: 'We didn't know child abuse was a crime'

I really am lost for words at this point.

Deliver us from Evil might be a good start.

the o'conner chronicles

2009-05-17T16:08:00.002Z

I just had to write to Cardinal Cormack Murphy O'Connor this weekend. He is the head honcho of the cult of misery (aka the roman catholic church in this country). He said in a radio broadcast recently that people without a sense of 'the transcendent' (by which he means god), in their lives, are not fully human. Apart from wanting him to clarify for me why I am not fully human I just needed to remind him that other figures in history have used this terminology as a prelude to genocide, extermination, slavery or other types of behaviour a tad on the discriminatory side.

He really really orta know better than that, don't ya think?

the big wide world

2009-05-17T15:02:00.003Z

They all enjoyed a morning outside in the sun for the first time in their little lives. Constant vigilance against prowling cats was required.

home corner

2009-05-10T12:39:00.005Z

I set up a corner of the cellar for the chicks as things were getting a bit messy upstairs and they needed more room to romp around in.

They are contained by a bass guitar case and 2 x 100watt speaker cabinets laid end to end. They have an lamp heater but you don't really need it when you can snuggle up under mum's wings to keep warm.

There's a few bits and pieces in there for the chicks to explore to make life a bit more interesting.

When I find out what sort of music they like I might plug the speakers in.

Our MP

2009-05-09T15:42:00.003Z

I would like at assure my constituents that all my expense claims have been made entirely within the rules which we made up ourselves in order to spend your money wisely in ~~our~~ your best interests so that I am better able to represent your wishes in parliament. It is essential that MP's continue to receive a second shed allowance while they are perched in London on parliamentary business and £12k on padded bum warmers is a small price to pay for true democratic representation.

First Days

2009-05-06T13:13:00.004Z

I'm happy to tell you the chick survived and though still a bit wobblier than the others, she is eating and drinking well and a slight wound on her right flank is healing up nicely. I would have cried if she had died.

For a northerner I am such a soft git!

Su Chi Ping

2009-05-05T09:16:00.004Z

When I got back from work at 11 last night the last chick was hatching but she was having a hard time getting out. By midnight she was giving up the struggle and I decided to help her along a bit by gently pealing away some of the outer shell while being very careful not to pull away the inner membrane which is still closely attached to her skin, so thin that it will tear all too easily and she will bleed to death. I thought we'd lost her but I saw the faint fluttering of a heartbeat; though she was exhausted and had given up moving or making any further effort to get out. For the next two hours I held her in my cupped hands and breathed warm air in to keep her body temperature up. By 3am she began to stir and I heard her first 'cheep cheep'. Another hour on and she was cheeping for england, fluttering her little wings and trying to stand on legs that wouldn't quite work yet. At this point I put her back under mum and went to bed for what was left of the night hoping for the best. You can't win them all, but maybe she has a bit of a chance now if mum and brothers or sisters will only be gentle with her for the next 12 hours or so. The others are doing fine now and looking like your classic picture postcard chicks. I'm probably going to bore you to death with chick pics now....so sue me!

Why Can't You Fix My Car?

2009-04-30T14:41:00.005Z

Once upon a time, a very long time ago.

The back end of the exhaust pipe was falling off the car so we took it into a well known high street enterprise that claims to deal with stuff like that quite promptly – it’s name is synonymous with popping out for a petit mal during your coffee break – you know who I mean.

‘Ah yes, the back end of your exhaust needs replacing’
‘OK, how long?’
‘Couple of hours’
‘Expensive?’
*shrugs*

Job done 2 hours later. 3 hours later take the car back.

‘It still rattles’
‘Ooo, that’ll be your catalytic converter’
‘how long?’
‘If we order the part today should be done by tomorrow afternoon’
‘expensive’
*eybrow raise* -

Next day - *phone rings*

'They sent the part but it doesn't look right'
'You mean it's the wrong one?'
'Yeah, we'll order another one'
'How long?'
'Another day'

Next day -*phone rings*

'We got the other part but it still doesn't look right so we rang the dealers and they say it's part no 1620041 we need but our suppliers don't have it and they can't get it but we could order one direct from Vauxhall dealer but we'll have to put a mark up on the price and if it's the wrong one they won't take it back.'

'So what do we do?'

'You'd be better off going direct to a Vauxhall dealer then if they get the wrong part its down to them but 1620041 is definitely the part you need'.

*takes car to vauxhall dealer*

'can you fix this?'
'yes, but we haven't got the part but we can order one'
'how long'
'two, maybe three Days'
'expensive?'
'£330 + tax' - *faints*
'can't you do it cheaper?'
'no'

*takes bike out of boot and cycles miles home*

Six days later *phone rings*

'cars ready'

*takes bike out of shed - cycles miles to garage*

'all done' *pays a small bleedin fortune over*

*puts bike in boot and drives home*

*warning light on dashboard lights up and stays lit*

*groans musically*

Great Eggspectations

2009-04-25T12:08:00.004Z

Sometimes life does not pan out quite how you expect. You knew that, right?

More later then. and thanks Cannucks.

Moggy

2009-04-18T18:55:00.003Z

This mog likes to sun herself at the bottom of my garden. Normally I move them on because I am not a cat person, sorry cat people, but I'm just not. There are gazillions of them in the neighborhood and too many of them like to use our garden as a latrine. They should all be curried IMHO. But on this occasion I was a softy and just left her there enjoying her laze in the sun.

Ducks on Wheels

2009-04-15T20:30:00.019Z

Today was fun.

We had a menagerie of kids down on the plot enjoying themselves so I didn't get much work done: just spent some quality time with chickens and children. What the hell, I'm on holiday. I think I will just let the pictures tell the story - but notice our broody hen Olive. Can't wait to see what hatches!

Plotters

2009-04-15T09:19:00.014Z

There is light at the end of the tunnel.

There is also light at the other end.

Before the advent of the diesel engine, the way they got through the tunnels was to lie on your back on top of the boat and use your legs to push yourself through. This will account for the large amounts of small change to be found in the silt at the bottom. For some reason it was impossible to get the horse to lie on its back to perform the same service.

We were having a moan about the weed wrapped around our propeller when our neighbour at the water point told me he had had a whole carpet wrapped round his which damaged the prop shaft and cost him £800 in repair bills. Made me momentarily pleased that I don't own a boat, though in reality I would like the freedom to go anywhere anywhen that ownership would grant.

On the Caldon canal on the way up to Leek you have to raise a number of lifting bridges; two of them are manual and one in Stoke is electric for
which you need the appropriate key which we discovered we had lost on the way back. So we moored up next to a metal casting factory alongside tanks of liquid oxygen, nitrogen and argon and waited for a boat to pass that never came. Well, it was the end of the day anyway so we just made dinner and went to bed. In the morning we had breakfast and waited for another boat which still didn't come. By 9.30 we gave up and rang the British Waterways Board office and pleaded insanity. They sent a very very nice man along with a key who released us from our imprisonment alongside the tanks of liquid gas.

When we got back to Stone we found the Phyllis May. A very very famous boat in Canal boating circles. It's owner, Terry Darlington, has taken this boat on completely barmy journeys across the English channel and all the way down through France to Carcassonne and also down the Eastern seaboard of the USA all the way to the Gulf of Mexico. Those of you know a bit about how these boats are built and how they sit in the water and handle will immediately recognise that this is a completely insane thing to do. Of both these escapades, Terry has written delightfully funny accounts and I can heartily reccommend Narrow Dog To Carcassonne to you for a wonderfully entertaining read.

Or have a gander at Terry's website where you can see pictures of this insanity and wonder how Jim does that thing he does with his ears.

I'm a little surprised the frog on Terry's tiller did not jump off a long time ago. Guess his arse is just welded down. Poor chap. We thought we would ask to borrow Phyllis to do Niagra Falls! You never know.

Pipers

2009-04-05T12:40:00.003Z

The only rational thing to do in a mad mad mad mad mad world is to plant potatoes.

These are Maris Piper and may their tubers tubusculate tubulescently.

Red Nose Day

2009-03-13T16:47:00.010Z

10 years ago to the day this was our little contribution to Red Nose Day - for my overseas readers, a day in the UK, where we all try to do something funny for money and donate to the comic relief charities.

That was then........and this is now.

Little boo now nearly as tall as his mum and delights in sitting on barstools in posh hotels chatting up the waitresses *sigh* I have to say, he is better at it than I ever was.

Happy Birthday Little Boo

But he only made it half way through that pudding........

A sandwich walks into a bar and sais "give us a pint". Barman sais "we don't serve food".

Joiks!

2009-03-04T17:15:00.004Z

I love the traditional singing of the Sami reindeer herders: it is so evocative and it does seem to capture so much of the essence of the places or people they sing of. I like it best sung a cappella, though of course you can find modern versions (even heavy metal for, goodness sake) of the songs or joiks, as they call them.

Here is our version of a traditional herding tune from Norway done on hurdy gurdy, flute, accordion and guitar in a very non traditional way. It is called Trill Trall

The bit about shit from pineapple jam is nowt t'do with me I tells ee.

This floor is so cunningly designed, it's under my feet wherever I walk...Gasp!

2009-02-26T09:23:00.005Z

I'm celebrating Darwin's 200th by drinking tea and holding interactive species learning seminars in my bedroom.

I have invited Ray Comfort and Chuck Missler to speak so that we can get a balanced perspective on the thing and to provide powerful counter arguments to Darwin's theories.

First up Chuck explains cogently how life cannot have gotten started without divine intervention.

Next up, Ray will effectively counter the theory of evolution with reference to a bannana.

We will have a hard time countering such enthralling scholarship.

I note that Ray has just offered to pay $20,000 to The Richard Dawkins Foundation For Reason and Science if he can have a face to face debate with Richard. If he takes a coconut, I am sure he will be able to demonstrate how the fist bra was made....thanks be.

Holes

2009-02-19T19:23:00.002Z

We are spending half term playing catch up on the allotment. Beds that should have been cleared and manured before Xmas still need doing. In the last couple of days we have dug over some of these and prepared a bed for the broad beans. Also sown in pots or trays, leeks, diamond aubergine, black prince tomatoes and mayan indian tomatoes (both from Terre de Semences).

In the big greenhouse I built some staging for seed trays out of bits of an old wooden bed frame. I've built it so that it can be easily disassembled and stored away when not needed. This should stop me reinventing the wheel every year with whatever timber happens to be at hand.

Tomorrow is table tennis and haircut day and Saturday is Heat the Streets .....we know how to live it up up here I tell you!

Oooo, I just heard that the National Trust is going to make land available for 1000 more allotments. Good for them; wish some local authorities would follow suit now.

Recommended reading: Holes by Louis Sachar