06 May 2012

Nine Ladies Stone Circle...

 

There's an old saying round here, maybe you've even heard round your way, though to be fair, I cant say I've ever listened to it.  After all is said and done, more is said than actually done.  So after weekends of saying "next weekend we really need to do something" (its a habit we fell in to) we actually did something.  Sort of a combined walk the dog and part tour of England exercise you could say, have a look what's on your doorstep, that sort of thing.  Its also an exercise in not spending much either, in which, lets face it, is a near impossibility in the UK.  I mean time, money and patience, patience being tested by a lack of decent road signs, small fortunes in diesel and parking and oh what a waste of my bloody time.

 

So we took Lord Nelson out to Derbyshire and up to Stanton Moor to Nine Ladies Stone Circle.  Trying to find them was like orienteering only shitter.  So finally, we reach this ancient bronze age site.  A 4000 year old stone circle of low grit stone blocks less than 1 metre high.  Legend has it that nine ladies were turned to stone for dancing on the Sabbath.  Looked like a very mini Stonehenge for midgets.  Populated with a tree graffitied with pagan new age hippy rubbish tied to it, a family refusing to move out the circle and some tit trying to dig up stones and balance them on the ladies.  Now I don't necessarily believe in this mystic karma or whatever, but Nelson was playing up acting weird, perhaps he didn't like what he saw, or thought it was overrated.   Just imagine what it would have been like at summer solstice...

 

 

29 April 2012

Chewie Jaws...

 

No cage can hold him, no meal can satisfy him and no man can command him.  What he can do is leap walls in a single bound, destroy favourite trainers, the lawn, antique books, ornaments and chew his way out a dog cage.  Even when its cable tied together.  I wouldn't mind but he's in there for his own protection.  Last time we tried shutting him the kitchen to stop him from destroying the house.  That didn't work.  Came home to find him waiting at the front door, kitchen door frame half chewed, the window blind in pieces and bizarrely, the hot water tap fully on.  God knows how long it had been running and god knows how he manages to chew his way out the dog cage.  Sam thinks its because he's been watching her.  Not sure if a Lurcher cross is supposed to be intelligent but it seems as if there isn't anything that can stop "chewie jaws" Nelson.

 

There's certainly some character coming out of him now and a few other things.  He has the worst flatulence in the world.  It's like a chemical warfare attack, a hazy smog appearing like a devilish halo around him, a sniff is enough to near incapacitate you and reduce you to tears of laughter.  He needs an exclusion zone around him like the one around Chernobyl.  With his boundless energy, his mad sprints down the garden, the Nottinghamshire/Derbyshire border doesn't stand a a chance when it comes to his walkies.  Just wish he'd do his doggie doo doo's on the walk and not wait while he gets back home to do them on the garden.  Strange dog.

 

 

14 April 2012

The most destructive power in the Universe...

 

Apparently, we're supposed to treasure these moments, look back on these with fondness, giggles and a wry smile.  But when you've been confronted with scenes not unsimilar to that of nuclear devastation, its not always that easy.  Now it's often been thought that the most destructive power in the universe is a black hole.  Not so, it is Nelson, our new dog.  Large puppy he may be, he treats every object in the living room like an interloper.  Just like that famous xenomorphic alien, he insists on grabbing and chewing anything and everything with his teeth, especially when you're not there.  Come home to find utter destruction.  He grabs books off bookshelves, pot plants shredded with soil everywhere, scatter cushions definitely scattered, the list go's on.  It time think like a dog, after all, I've often been accused of looking as rough as a dog.  Its just a pity he's shown his contempt for any training by chewing the dog training books I ordered.

 

 

11 April 2012

A cheap hobby...

 

So it begins again.  That cost of buying decent astronomical eyepieces matched only by astronomical prices.  I've had decent stuff before but had to flog it when times were hard and got made redundant.  I stuck the premium stuff on eBay and where it got snatched up faster than a hot kebab outside a nightclub.  This eyepiece I've purchased is premium stuff, a 14mm Meade 5000 Ultra Wide Angle eyepiece with an 82° apparent field-of-view.  As this collection builds up, I'm going to have to look after them and get a padded eyepiece case, instead of just throwing 'em back in a plastic box after I've finished.  Of course, I will now be struck by the astronomers curse, clouds.  Any astro purchase is immediately offset proportionally by cost to clouds.  Ho-hum.

 

 

07 April 2012

Introducing Nelson Taffy Darcy Fyfe-Cook...

 

It just kind of happened.  Just thought we'd have a look.  We visited Second Chance Rescue in Derby last week and seem to have agreed on adopting  a dog.  There was this one fellow, sat there in his kennel, wouldn't even look at me.  Would look at Sam, kids and ladies but not blokes.  Just cower in front of blokes.  It was at least 10 minutes before he would even glance at me but still would not come out of his kennel.  In fact, I was sat down so long, that the worlds biggest chocolate Labrador settled himself besides me.  Then the world friendliest cat jumped all over me before this sorry, scared and skinny looking fellow popped his head out.  Sam decided we should take him for a walk.  Now he's here.

 

What do we know about him?  He's pretty nervous, but we've assured him, we can be nervous together.  He's a Lurcher cross, looks like maybe a Labrador.  He was a stray from Wales where he was on Death Row and has been at Second Chance Rescue over a month.  He likes women and kids and very nervous of men.  They seem to think some blokes been a bit 'tasty' with him.  My job is to convince him that not all men are bad.  He's about 10 months old, fully grown but a little skinny.  He also stinks.  The frustrating part is not being able to take him for a proper walk outside until his second injection.  There is lots of training needed....

 

A strange feeling having another dog in the house.  Lots of emotions, lots of worry and lots of thoughts.  Is it too soon since we lost Lucky in January last year, missing her enormously, will it always be too soon, will he get along with cats Billy and Elvis, will we all get along?  I'm sure Lucky wouldn't mind, she'd want us to help another dog, particularly a rescue dog, can't think of a better way to honour her memory.  Its hard not to compare him with Lucky, but he is his own dog in his own right.  Its only been a couple of days (04.04.12) and he is starting to show some personality and some trust.  We sincerely hope he likes living here, we look forward to having him here.  He is Nelson Taffy Darcy Fyfe-Cook.  Nelson, take a bow.

 

 

01 April 2012

Don’t panic, Mr Mainwaring!...

 

I'm sleeping on the M1 again tonight, I've run out of fuel.  All those years of reading "Survive to Fight" manuals can't help me, the war has changed.  If anybody needs to come and rob me, they just need to head towards the abandoned cars.  Mad Max has got nothing on me.  This is 'The Hunger Games' and 'The Road' for real.  I think I'll be OK, I've managed to fashion a garrotte out of my tie, my suit is a tactical brown colour.  I am completely camouflaged and quiet is my friend.  Is that a cow I can see?  I don't care, its sustenance.  Its life must end in order for me to survive mine.  It knows it, I know it, this will not come easy.  Its life is as valuable to him as mine is to me.  I lose an eye in the process, this is not a mistake I can afford to make again.  I have now sported a Snake Plissken style eye patch fashioned out of the remaining parts of my tie.  It gives me an air of survivalist authority.  Perhaps this will help against marauders, they know I will battle.   I am ready for the dystopian future.  Its here and now.

 

OK so the above may not have actually happened last week, but it does read like a plot synopsis.  An oil dependant nation, a government far removed from its populace, its people monitored and taxed for the benefit of the elite, ministers order the population to stock up against threat, its general panic.  This is not Iran, its modern day Britain and that's no April Fools joke.  That's what happens when people listen to government ministers advice.  Needless fuel panic.  Oil wont last forever, electric cars are the future.  Good job that all that road and fuel tax is being funded on road infrastructure and alternative car technologies eh?

 

I wonder how much extra pennies in duty that this little faux pas crisis made the government?  I've already decided that if I cant get in to work, then I cant get in.  Queuing at the garage forecourt with jerry cans isn't going to make things any better.  Don't panic.  I can't believe all those people going nuts, they probably didn't even need it.  Nice to see the old blitz spirit, grab everything you can, screw everyone else.  Take my advice: Never take advice from a government minister.

 

 

27 March 2012

Losing Cilla...

 

On the 25th March, our beautiful, gorgeous Cilla cat passed away.  No amount of words can ever describe or do her justice for the loss, she was simply Cilla.  Its hard to believe she's gone, she's always been there, always on bed or another, you had to move around her.  Cilla chose to live with Sam when she jumped onto Sam's lap and promptly fell asleep, love and gave 16 wonderful years of perfect company.  Cilla was poorly for the last few weeks, diagnosed with feline lymphoma.  She didn't deserve that, but true to her nature, she fought it every step of the way.  She was  a beautiful happy thing, a princess, ready to purr at a moments notice. 

 

Her coat was always beautiful and soft, she never got poorly, although was once stung by a wasp and once had a thorn stuck in one of her pads so that it swelled up so enormously that we affectionately called her clubfoot.  A stubborn bugger, Cilla was in charge, not just of the other animals in the house but over us as well.  An immoveable lump on the bed.  She'd let you know during the night if you knocked her too many times by attacking your toes as a gentle reminder.  She had the sharpest claws in the known universe and truly believed we existed to serve her.  We did. 

 

She couldn't wait for you to come to bed, ready to tuck up by the side of you into your arms, sitting on your chest so that she couldn't get any closer to your face and drooling.  Clearly, you moving during the night to change sleeping position to Cilla meant that you also had to fuss her.  She'd get up, purr and come up to you eventually allowing you to go back to sleep.  If she wanted food off your plate, she's take it no matter how many times you shoved her away.  Especially her favourites of ham, tuna and Maltesers.  She is a massive loss, her personality, her presence, her love, jumping on the tub chair when Sam comes in, her silent meows, climbing the tower in the wardrobe to shed hairs all over your clothes, sitting in your lap purring, clawing and drooling for hours on end.  Sleep well princess, you were always there for us, we will see you again one day, we love you very much xxx.

 

 

11 March 2012

The Sun Gods...

 

It's a rare day when the sun is out all day.  I know its out all the time, its just often hidden by dark grey miserable moody clouds.  Now I wouldn't call it sunbathing, or mistake it for St. Tropez, but its the best this pasty faced Englishman could do, under doctors orders, getting 'fresh air' by spending the day in the garden.  More precisely, like a gang of teenage hoodlums around a McDonalds, like the local chavs on the park around a can super strength Kestrel lager, I hung by the shed.  As I said, doctors orders for my 2 week long constant headache.  Did I say fresh air?  I meant the smell of freshly burning rubber that the chavs decided to release by completing wheel spins repeatedly and imprinting Michelin marks on the tarmac.  Never the less, fresh air.  Joined by Sam gardening and the cats who decided to lie in the dirt, observe life from the shed roof and discharge hairs over my lap.  Pretty much a normal day for the furry buggers. 

 

In between the feline antics and hiding in the shed to escape the burning rubber smell of fresh air, I assembled the telescope, complete with solar filter.  After all, you have to make the most of summer, it only lasts 1 day in the UK, even if it is in March.  Did you enjoy it?  A chance to use the solar set up and examine the surface of the sun in safety.  This image of the sun, taken with the DSLR attached to the telescope, using Bader solar film, shows sunspots 1429 and 1430.  The active region of sunspot 1429, which is 7 times larger than the Earth, erupted on 5th March, 2012 with the most powerful flare (Coronal Mass Ejection or CME) in 5 years.  When these flares reach Earth, they can interrupt satellites, making the Sat-Nav in your car even worse that it already is, but can also make for pretty light shows with the Aurora.

 

 

06 March 2012

Digital eye on the sky...

 

One of those frustrating nights for astronomy.  Previously having collimated my Newtonian telescope the previous week, I was eager to try out the T-Ring and adaptor to attach the DSLR to the telescope (its hardly suitable for my ancient 40mm refractor).  I had initially tried this when I first got it, but when attached, couldn't see a thing and hence collimation required.  So having tried again, it would appear that this telescope does have some focus issues with a DSLR attached.  Mainly not being able to achieve any focus.  After discussing with friends and viewing the forum on Stargazers Lounge, it would appear I may need to try a low profile focuser, Barlow or purchase a coma corrector.  Didn't realise about the Barlow of low profile focuser until I put the equipment away. 

 

Instead, I dusted off the webcam and tried that (see the stacked test image from the webcam on the left).  That seems to work so its definitely a focus problem .  The picture shows Plato crater centre most and the Sinus Iridum region to the left.  All I want are some semi decent pictures of the moon etc.  The moon is a stunning object but I always have a reluctance to post moon pics, indeed most pics, as they can look a bit samey.  Now I just need another clear night to test.  You can guarantee it won't be this week when there's a planetary conjunction with Venus and Jupiter just two degrees apart, bound to be clouds.  Sods Law.

 

 

03 March 2012

A classy place to stay and holiday...

 

Being a tight fisted git, or more accurately forced to become a tight fisted git due to living in the UK i.e. mortgage poverty, travel poverty and fuel poverty (I just call it 'poverty' catchy eh?), I've had to review any holiday options.  When I say holiday options, I am of course being ironic, who could afford the bloody air tax to fly, I actually mean a day off.  True, I've narrowed the locations of where to go on these days off.  Not Europe, not the continent, not even the UK, specifically its looking more like England.  Although at this rate any more oil prices rises will barely see us able to travel over the Nottinghamshire/Derbyshire border less than 0.5 miles away.  In order to help me on this travel quest, I have employed the aid of a book, The Rough Guide To England, I've used them in the past (particularly in America) and always thought they worked rather well.

 

Being naturally curious as to what my local area may say, if listed at all, I peruse the pages not holding up much hope.  Eastwood, home of D.H. Lawrence, a part of Nottingham where we live, is described as "something of a post industrial eye-sore." Crikey, that's a bit strong.  If it was that bad, would we have moved here?  Or is it because we are here?  Nottingham itself hasn't come off too badly though.  Mansfield, my birth town is not even listed but has some vague reference as 'a gritty town of the north (of Nottinghamshire)  decimated by Thatcher and her cronies.'  Can't really argue with that, DH Lawrence wrote that Mansfield was "once romantic now utterly disheartening colliery town."  Can't argue with that either, apart from the romantic bit.  I'd describe it as a deliberate victim of concrete jungle town planning.  No wonder it made that list of worst places to live.  Chernobyl probably gets a better write up.

 

All this, is not painting a rosy picture of the East Midlands.  Sounds more like some post apocalyptic barren wasteland, which may or may not be true depending on your point of view, especially if you write for the Rough Guide series.  Precisely why we need to explore further than our own backyard sometimes.  So, to England and all it has to offer.  It's country houses, ruined castles, concrete enclaves, proper pubs, village greens, its high streets that all look the same, the ancient monuments, its green and pleasant land.  This years holidays to be.