Saturday, 10 July 2010

Wasps. Rubbish.

Torvill & Dean. Possibly too large to fit in a halogen uplighter lampshade.

Phew, what a scorcher. Having the windows open at all times has meant a lot more in the way of flying wildlife indoors. This has been great for the cats, who like to show what terrifying predators they are by messily dismembering a daddy-long-legs or two on the carpet, before losing interest and leaving us to clear up the crime scene. However, not so great for us, as the insect population seem drawn in droves to the halogen uplighter, and die smokily and pungently in it. I'd like to give you an image here: the tragic lovers in Torvill & Dean's interpretation of Ravel's Bolero, whirling round and round gracefully before hurling themselves into a volcano. Imagine that, only substitute a few flies and the odd wasp for Torvill & Dean. No music, obviously. It's amazing how strong the smell of burnt wasp is. Like burning hair, but nastier and a lot more persistent. Also, when you look up at the uplighter from beneath, the pretty glass shade is full of the crispy silhouettes of dead insects. Nice.

Friday, 2 July 2010

Yu in Chiswik area? Yu seek basment? Look no more furthers!

spe·cious  –adjective
1. apparently good or right though lacking real merit; superficially pleasing or plausible
2. pleasing to the eye but deceptive.

So that's probably not a 10 foot celling.
*With thanks to the eagle eye of Mr Fishwife, who has learnt, over the years, that nothing pleases me more than total, nitpicking, pedantry.