Solstice Catch-Up

I noticed it a few days ago - already, the dawn is creeping earlier over the parapet, the Sun is setting a little later than it was a week ago. Accustomed, around the Solstice, to full darkness before 4pm, I noticed as I went to settle the stock at Christmas, that there was still some light at about 4.10. And therein lies some hope, I guess. Four minutes more light each day. It doesn't sound much, but that's almost half an hour in a week. We country folk tend to notice these things.

The highlight of the festive season was a visit from two very good friends - our former rabbi from London days, and his wife. Being intrepid and interesting souls, they took us out to a couple of local attractions which, being local, we'd never enjoyed.

The first was a drive to Sandringham last Sunday to gawp at the Royals progressing from the church back to the great house after the morning service. Even though we were searched - and had cameras removed - before we could get close, it's remarkably informal, even in today's hysterical times. We saw Philip, Charles, Anne, Andrew, Edward, Sophie, William and Harry - as handsome a clutch of HRHs as you'll see anywhere. What struck me most was how tall they all are. I expect it's because they're so - well, so Royal - unlike we mortals, that is. Makes one quite believe in their natural superiority over we hoi-polloi.

Conspicuous by her absence was HM, who went from church to house in the Royal Bentley. This was a shame, because our rabbi was denied the chance to say a blessing that comes out only when one sees a head of state. There's a blessing for every conceivable occasion, and those learned in Torah can become blessing-twitchers. So, if ever you happen to pass HM in the street, you can say

We praise you, Eternal God, Sovereign of the Universe, for You give of Your glory to flesh and blood.

although in Hebrew. Something then, to be said only in the presence of those who've touched the hem of his garment. Or, at any rate, a nice old lady in a cloche hat.

After Sandringham we drove a short way north to Hunstanton, where we looked at the marvelous polychrome cliffs of that resort.

The seeing was crisp and clear. From the top of the cliffs one could see across the Wash, all the way to Lincolnshire, and, on the horizon, the full majesty of a wind farm, out at sea. The weather, however, was a bitter wind from the north, which kept beachfront frolics to a minimum, although the rebbitzin, being a twitcher of another kind, pointed out fulmars squabbling in crevices high on the cliffs.

This is the time of year when one takes stock. It ends, for me, on a muted note. Projects I've been involved in are either in remote pre-pre-pre development; are coming to an end; or are never likely to get off the ground to begin with. I'm also having these recurring dreams in which I am ostentatiously undervalued ... and also hearing, for the second time in recent memory, of a marriage I'd assumed to have been as solid as a rock, breaking apart. This causes a peculiar kind of distress. I can't help but wish I could get the couple in front of me and knock their heads together. Marriage can be very hard, but if one makes a promise, one should really do one's best to keep it, unless the provocation to part is unendurable. But peoples' inner lives, perhaps, are like the winter weather - chill, and full of shadows. Nevertheless one should, I feel, hang on in there against the certainty that Spring will one day come. For, as a blessing-twitcher can say, every day, even if he never catches a glimpse of HM in his life:

We praise You, Eternal God, Sovereign of the universe, whose world is filled with beauty.

Cromer - The Dark Side

Cromer is a lovely place. Even on a grey and windy day, such as today, there is always a charming surprise just around the corner. Here is a rainbow out at sea, as spotted by Crox Minor on our morning constitutional.

Not that Cromer doesn't have its orcs. Here is an efflorescence of new graffiti on the beach huts that's sprouted up like an outbreak of new leprosy.

Now, you might be one of those people who think graffiti is art, an expression of the irrepressible spirit of those who have no other means of expression. You might think it's cool, urban, hip and happening.

I beg to differ.

I think graffiti is the horrible, mean-spirited, evil, spiteful effluvium of those too tiny-minded and thick to be capable of anything more than the dull and troll-like, or even to be capable of stringing words together into the Great Questions of the Age such as 'do you want fries with that?'

You might think that the perpretrators of such vandalism should be indulged, that we should make efforts to understand their perspective, if only to assuage any feelings we might have of middle-class, liberal guilt.

I beg to differ.

I think that they should have their hands cut off. I have a blunt and rusty machete in my shed...

The Discovery of a New Kind of Radiation

Many years ago when the world was young I recall coming home from school to find the following scene. My mother was sitting in an easy chair in a sunny spot in the dining room. Surrounding her, on the floor, were a golden retriever, a dalmatian, and two cats, all curled up like doughnuts, all sound asleep. As was my mother. Stirred into wakefulness by my arrival, my mother said - "I just sat down for a minute - to rest my eyes - and then -"

That's when we discovered Z -rays (or, more technically, Zzzzz-rays), emitted by any sleeping animal, and which can be transmitted to any sufficiently susceptible creature that happens to step into the Z-field (there's a wave-particle duality in operation, as you see). I suspect that the intensity of the Z-field varies by the inverse square law. However, several Z-emitters placed close together seem to exert a synergistic effect such that the strength of the combined Z-field is far more intense than one would expect were each Z-emitter encountered on its own. When my mother stepped into the midst of four very strong Z-emitters - well, basically, she hadn't a hope.

It happened to me, today. The alarm went off at 6.15 whereupon I went back to sleep. I was woken again at 6.45, this time more forcefully, by Crox Minor. I stumbled blearily out of bed, dressed, ironed a school shirt, made school lunchboxes, fed animals and children, saw the latter off to school, and arrived home at 9 o'clock to see a scene rather like this.


Strongly synergistic Z-emitters. Recently.

I sat down, thinking I could shut my eyes, just for a minute, before I made a coffee and logged on to work at 9.30.

Forty winks later, I noticed that it was 10.45...

Today's Mystery Fish For You To Identify

If GrrlScientist can do it with birds, then I can do it with fish. Just this once. There is, however, one difference (apart from the obvious one, that is). Whereas GrrlSicentist knows which bird it is before she sets the puzzle, I have absolutely no idea what sort of fish this is.


It's quite big - about 40cm long - and I found it washed up on Cromer East Beach as Canis croxorum and I took our lunchtime constitutional. I can't find it in my beachcomber's field guide, which covers the seashore and shallow seas of Europe, which suggests that I've skipped the relevant page, or that this is a species found in the open ocean. This pelagic habit is suggested by the laterally compressed shape, the depth of the body, the smooth, domed forehead and the rather rakish set of the median fins. That eye looks enormous, and that mean-looking piranha-like mouth was full of nasty sharp pointy teeth. The natural colour has probably faded from what was probably a silvery sparkle in life, and the ugly red blotch was probably caused by seagulls who got to it before I did.

So, people, you know what to do - Name That Fish!

Exothermy In The UK

Of all the stenchly odors of modern life, perhaps one of the most unpleasant - and the most difficult to get rid of - is cat pee. Actually, the pee on its own is OK. The trouble comes from the noxious gunk squirted out of the scent gland at the base of the tail, which can be referred to as Flavor(TM), the New Fragrance from I Can Haz Cheezburger (HT Crox Minor).

Right now, our expensive sofa has been sprayed with Flavor(TM), and it's horrible. Or was.

As the owner of a tom cat, Felis croxorum, we've had our fair share of soft furnishings, bedding, carpets etc., etc., ruined by Flavor(TM). The problem is that Felis croxorum has been brought out of retirement by our new cat, Naughtypants (Not His Real Name), a tom kitten who adopted us, and whose owner could not be found (actually, the owner could be found, and he said we were welcome to keep the kitten, so...) - Naughtypants (NHRN) has now grown up into a fine, husky and - most of all - complete tom cat.

To cut a long story short, the cats are squirting squaring up to each other and splashing on the Flavor(TM) like cheap cologne. Teh Interwebz is full of solutions (I use the word advisedly) for getting rid of Flavor(TM), and an equal number of plaints to say that nothing works, and the only thing to do is get rid of any and all furnishings that have been peed on, and if that doesn't work, get rid of the cat. Two people have, however, recommended some stuff called Nature's Miracle, a proprietary mixture of biotechnological hoopla which will, it is claimed, do the business. Or not, as the case may be. This is available in the good ol' U. of K. - though imported from the US, so it's pricey, and so I have ordered some.

In the meantime I have a sofa smelling of wee, so must resort to some ruder remedies. Long before the invention of the mysterious 'contains non-ionic surfactants' - I mean, what exactly are these 'contains non-ionic surfactants' when they're at home, eh? I bet Mrs Beeton didn't use 'contains non-ionic surfactants'. I'll bet Kim and Aggie never give 'contains non-ionic surfactants' a second thought - people used agreeably old-fashioned remedies for most household ills. When I'm getting rid of mould on my tomatoes, for example, I spray 'em with good old-fashioned copper sulphate. You know exactly what you're getting, and no messing. And as a bonus, it turns everything bright blue. And when I fumigate a greenhouse, I chuck in a sulphur bomb and then run as fast as possible in the opposite direction.

But back to Flavor(TM). Over the years we've tried and discarded innumerable expensive concoctions for dealing with Flavor(TM), all of them boasting the proverbial 'contains non-ionic surfactants', none of which worked. However, I do use good old-fashioned sodium bicarbonate for deep-cleaning the inside of our fridge, as it is well known for getting rid of nasty niffs. I was heartened to discover that this simple yet miraculous chemical was rated as a contender by at least some of those residents of teh interwebz with liberally peeing cats. I made up a solution of bicarb and swabbed the affected areas. Twice. The smell of Flavor(TM) seemed to go, but what was left was a faint aroma of school chemistry laboratories.

That's when I turned again to another suggestion on teh interwebs - white vinegar. In other words, refined acetic acid. Here at the Parc Zoologique Des Girrafes we find white vinegar really useful for cleaning glass, laminate floors, windows and so on. So once I'd swabbed the affected areas with bicarb I sprayed them with white vinegar ...

Now, as a test, I got a beaker, sprinkled some bicarb in it and then added some white vinegar. Zowie!! I got a reaction as the basic bicarb reacted with the acidic vinegar, producing a great froth of carbon dioxide and, I expect, some heat. Exothermy In The UK! Not that the sofa started to froth and bubble... but it stopped smelling (very much) and (the theory goes) any heat generated might have denatured any remaining gunk in the Flavor(TM).

The great things about bicarb and white vinegar is that they're dead cheap, and also non-toxic. You can use them around children and pets, and you are unlikely to develop any allergy or rash while using them.

Mrs Crox, however, has adopted a different strategy. Should she find our bedding afflicted with a spot of Flavor(TM), she calls in the heavy artillery, for there is probably no odor so foul that it can't be masked with liberal applications of ... Chanel No.5.

Flavor - Do You Has It?