It's Monday - TIME TO GET BACK TO WORK

...Because the wife looks to be entering the fray with her slave driver hat on determined to sort these last few fence posts out. This has been a lot harder than you would have thought, mainly because of the proximity to the great big fuck off sycamore tree with roots thicker than my head. The Mrs looked up how to destroy roots whilst saving the tree last night, claiming it was important and that we must create a clean cut, leave no messy damaged bits etc. Make sure that we don't damage more than a fifth of the root mass (btw whoever's website she was looking at - how can you tell? Its fucking buried). Anyway true to form, the Bane has been attacking the fucker with a large spike, getting the large spike firmly lodged in the tree root, then having to spend an entire day trying to get the spike out again.

DOGS

At one stage we had me, the wife, several passers by and their dogs gathered on the pavement gesticulating wildly and discussing the best way to proceed, whilst my (extremely resourceful but knackered out after a rugby tour) neighbour got all of his power tools out and just got on with it. Eventually, after many hours of precision tree surgery (not) the spike came out. We are left with a total mess of a root, an unhappy wife and possibly a dead tree (not really tree huggers - I will fix it, just don't lynch me).

SHITTEST

Being outside a lot over the school holidays has meant having to endure endless groups of preteen kids walking past. This would not be a problem except for the fact that without fail they are always playing the shittest of shit music (also not a problem - I disagree with their music, but that is entirely up to them...) from their mobile phones.

DETENTION CENTRE

An entire generation of kids growing up decimating music and totally missing out on the point by not listening to half of the track??? I think we need to round up these oiks and place them in a specialist detention centre where their heads are tied to bass bins blaring out some intense dubstep until they get the message. Ask any kid about bass these days and they think you are some sad old grandad. It really does make me feel depressed about the future of the world.

Laters,

The I-B