Cairn Today Cairn Tomorrow?

The Cairn I'd first built over two years ago was in need of some TLC. In fact, it required a complete rebuild. Its fourth incarnation since I first put stone on stone, one spontaneous Friday afternoon. 

It's become a little like the regeneration of Dr Who. Each one similar but different in character. Ironically, however, they all appear more like Daleks in their physicality.

Why the cairn never stays standing is a mystery. It is only a metre form a public path so one can only assume, if not caused by bad weather, that it must be irate farmer/bullish dog/reticent rambler/bored teenager interference.

I like to think it's a young greyhound who always tries to get one more stone on top, Jenga style, but misjudges to send most of it tumbling down.

If it was the bored teenager/sabotage option then I'd expect to see the whole thing flattened, whereas, every collapse thus far has been of a gradual persuasion.

I spent three hours today on the rebuild, in which time not one human being passes me by. I take the customary photograph and vow to return in three days time to check on it's well-being.

Today

Three Days Later

How To Get To Chadlington Without A Car

R.I.P my Fiat Punto. The wipers were starting to wear a bit, so I thought it a good excuse to get rid. I scrapped it to a bloke I never met, in exchange for three piss-ups.

From now on, if I need fresh mint I'm going to have to use other means of transportation to obtain it.

I phoned Chadlington Quality Stores in Chadlington:
"Hello. Do you have any fresh mint in?"
"Ooh. You're in luck. Just got a few bunches in for another customer."
"Great. See you in half an hour." 

My only quandary then was how to get there?

Walk? I love walking? But no, that would take more than half an hour. I said I'd be half an hour!

Run? Shit no - my running shorts were in the wash.

Cycle? Good idea, but that would only take 15 minutes. I said I'd be half an hour!

Then it came to me. Star jump it! All the way there! This would also nicely double up as an eccentric anecdote to tell people in the pub later.
"What d'you get up to today then Man Friday?"
"Oh, I star jumped to Chadlington to get some fresh mint."

That would surely raise the eyebrows of eavesdropping bar-dwellers.

The Museum Of British Hangovers

London 2012AD. An afternoon at the British Museum for two British gentlemen, myself and Mr King. We spend the entire time ambling aimlessly around statues and mummies like two zombies. Idea for a great film! 

Mummies Versus Zombies, starring Matt Dillon, Britt Ekland and that actor with the face, who played Sherlock on the iPlayer. Maybe a cameo role for Larry Blackmon, the lead singer from Cameo. It will be an almighty battle but the Mummies will ultimately be victorious, winning 10-8 on penalties.

Despite our hangovers, myself and Mr King have our own personal missions here. I'm looking for a mummy-themed greeting card to send to my mother as a hilarious Mothers Day Card, and Mr King wants to see two girls walking round, hand in hand. He says you always see girls holding hands in museums.

We fail in both our tasks but, on the bright side, I've now got a cracking screenplay to write.

Life's A Gas

I'm not ashamed to be work-shy of a Friday. I promote the benefits with sweet relish. However, when forced to spend three hours with someone who is working then my relish does tend to sour slightly. I'm not arrogant enough to start rubbing noses in it. Or, indeed, any part of someone's body.

The plumber is here to fix the gas boiler. I greeted him at the door still adorning my pyjamas and ruffled hair (it was still A.M after all). I made him a cup of tea and offered him some crumpets. He began work on the boiler and I nestled into my computer and pretended to work.

Thing is, I pretended for a while but then empathy got the better of me and I started to work for real. A full two hours! I even had a cup of tea too, and, instead of just nodding politely when the plumber started talking plumbing technicalities, I actually showed a real interest in the subject, asking relevant questions.

When his work was done, we played Scrabble and drank smoothies all afternoon. I put way too much mango in them but he didn't complain. Not once.

Moon In The Bathroom

You wait 41 years for a moon calendar and then three turn up at once. Actually, I only received two for Christmas but the bus analogy doesn't quite work with two so, for the bus analogy's sake, let's say I received three.

I've always thought it would be nice to know what the moon's up to on a daily basis and this very morning I decided to put one of them up in a high profile position – next to the bathroom mirror. This will give further value to the act of teeth brushing. Have healthy gums AND be aware of tomorrow's waxing Gibbous moon, all in one go.

After a successful erection, I scanned the calendar for significant dates of the year - festivals, holidays, bin days, World Goth Day. I was disheartened to discover these dates coincided with very little moon action – the odd waning crescent but not even a half moon to enjoy. It got me thinking. Will I miss the sudden joy of a full moon surprising me as I walk out of a misty wood or The Works Discount Book Store? Can full knowledge of the moon's cycle actually remove some of its mystique and charm?

I suppose I don't have to scrutinise the calendar. Take the odd peak here and there – become semi-aware of it's movements. Perhaps cover up every other month with toothpaste cartons. I happen to have three empty ones in the bathroom cupboard and, let's face it, Friday afternoon's were just made for moon chart partial covering activity.