Monday, 28 April 2003

Digging I vaguely remember a bit from Thoreau's Walden where he enthusiastically writes of having dug a sizeable cellar, in which to store his food, in a single day. I even-more-vaguely remember -- and it'll stay vague because I can't be shagged walking to the study and actually finding the passage in question -- that he offers this as part of evidence for the proposition that farmers could manage quite well without the use of animal labour. Much as I agree with the principles of that proposition, I can only wonder if Thoreau would have been quite so enthusiastic had he been faced with the kind of clay soil that I must deal with. It's soul-destroying stuff: the pick literally bounces off it when it's dry in summer -- I swear I've seen sparks -- and in winter it becomes heavy, sticky and almost impossible to dig. I should mention too the novel experience of growing taller with each footstep until one looks down and sees that one's boots have turned into a pair of snowshoe-sized platform soles a foot thick. Frankly, I reckon Thoreau wouldn't have been able to dig so much as a grave for a dead cat in one day. 10:53:37 PM    comment []

It Hurts Aye! The heachache is back. I think it's because I'm stiff and sore after yesterday's effort in the garden. My head, neck and shoulders are painfully stiff. I've tried stretching, a couple of ibuprofen and standing in the shower with my head under the water for 10 minutes, all to minimal effect. I'd take a couple of Mersyndol, which are painkillers with a relaxant, but I need to be up at 6am and I'm doubtful whether I'd make it. I'm also trying to give my liver a chance and I figure a whack of drugs might be no better for it than red wine, the lack of which has probably partly caused the headache. Too bad; this is unpleasant and Nat reckons the drugs will induce different enzymes from the wine, so I'll try the Mersyndol. 10:34:32 PM    comment []

Hot, Wet & Naked I got hot, wet and naked on a rainy Sunday afternoon. Oh yes. It was delicious. You see -- and apologies to anyone arriving here by way of a Google search on "hot wet naked" -- I spent about 3 hours in a light rain slowly digging a new garden bed of about 4 metres each way, breaking the rock-hard clay with a pick, digging and raking through the bags of chook poo. It wasn't too cold and I worked in t-shirt and jeans. I'm way out of condition so the pattern was a few minutes of frenetic work until my arms started to wobble and the pick wander out of control, then a lot of minutes stood still pondering and stuff as the rain fell on me and I slowly became wetter and wetter. I should explain to any women reading that doing this kind of thing makes men quite happy and is to be tolerated; do not attempt to rescue your man or persuade him of the hopelessness of the situation. Anyway, job finally done, I came inside wet, cold and muddy, my arms and back and torso aching. And then I had a shower -- a long, steamy, hot, soaking, decadent shower. I have to say that a hot shower on a rainy afternoon, body filthy and tired and sore, is among the most sensual things I have experienced. I topped it off with a yummo double-strength coffee made on my espresso machine (Solis SL70), which I love. I read a feature in the newspaper last week on home espresso machines and it said that of course you'll never be able to make a coffee as good as the ones you buy. Crap! I can make a decent flat white or cafe latte or macchiatto better than all but the best of the cafes around work. And I'm talking proper coffee here, not that luke-warm, mocha-tasting, insipid muck proffered by the major coffee chains. Ugh! 10:26:29 PM    comment []