Signs Of Winter

Hurleston, where the rocket science of an existing septic tank that needs replacing with a new plastic one has “defeated” the Canal Corporation Ltd, apparently. Yes yes, I was born yesterday.

You can fool all of the sheople all of the time, but you’ll never slide a bladder-fluid extraction past boaters without their noticing.

Messrs Winterbottom, Icynadgers, & Shudthatreellybefrozensolid have moved in for the foreseeable, methinks, complete with luggage and valets; night temperaturings being presently consistently near the zero end of that new “Celsiums” scale. We have frist and mog abounding (outdoors) as I type, the sheeps in the next field are soggy and depressed, and the lift-bridge ahead fades in and out of view more often than the Cheshire Cat.

It seems to have been only a few days since the wotsit of it was at least bright at times. Oh hang on though – it was mere days ago. How femory mades.

A boat bravely cruising past Hurleston Reservoir.

They like their little signs, do the Canal Corporation Ltd.

Signs for standing up and signs for sitting down. This way verboten, that way discouraged. In particular it seems that one is not allowed to sit on a box and urinate at an acute angle into the canal. Or it could be something to do with anglers. Whatever it is, they’re all banned. I can only imagine what Canal Corporate Ltd HQ offices are like; probably every wall laden with gems such as ‘There is no eye in team‘ and ‘Christmas is coming, the Parry’s getting sacked fat’.

The good news, from the ancient Greek city of Apocrypha, is that those black posts do burn well.

I hear these things because I talk to the trees, and they all gabble back to me.

‘Woody’ I say – for most trees are called ‘Woody’ – ‘Woody, what happens to those black posts, the ones covered in “Verboten” signs, when they rot and fall askance, or when they are in remote areas and look as though they may rot within a matter of mere years and could do with removal by the public for the public in the name of pragmatic and pro-active cold-peasant elfin saferty?’

‘Heaven’, Woody replied, ‘They all go to Tree Heaven on a column of thick blue smoke. Asmustweall. The Great God Chainsaw comes and takes them away.’

Asmustweall, it must be noted, is not a town full of hobbits, much though it sounds as if it ought to be so.*

*Not to be confused with the town full of Muppets, which is Westminster.

It’s amazing what a rise of a mere 34′ 3″ can do to the view.

I wonder if the Canal Corporation Ltd have ever though of installing a playground-style slide running down the full length of the Hurleston Flight? Now that would be fun. I bet that a coin-operated turnstile at the top, mayhap a quid a pop, would bring unto the coffers at least several shillings a year.

Especially if the slide ended over the pound at the bottom, just past a sign reading ‘By using this slide you consent to your entire estate being left to the canals to be spent unto the upkeepery of this lock flight.’

With that sort of drop the slide could probably end in a complete loop de loop.

Wheeeeeeeeeeeee…. sploosh.

One must, mustn’t one, wonder why domestic human poop disposal is possible in the house to the left – which is on the narrow strip of land bounded by the drinking water reservoir to one side and t’canal on t’other – and yet is totally impossible on the (infinitely) more easily-accessed right hand side of the canal, bounded by a farm field c/w paved lane leading to the rear of that white brick building.

I think that it’s something to do with my being “taken for a fool”.

What kind of fool am I?

The fool on the hill.

Literally so, in this case.

I’m rambling on again, aren’t I?

Well I have to keep my lips moving else they freeze.

Squbble & Beak for lunch today, with a modest, well-aged, but still slightly impudent bottle of HP Sauce.

Chin-chin, chaps.

Ian H., & Cardinal W.