Summertime: living is easy

This summer has seen the longest intermittency of this blog in three years — a bit of of sabbath with the family. I’ve caught up with a few domestic jobs in the strange on/off semi-staycation before a week with the whole family and friends in Budapest. This will be profoundly amazing, as I have not been there since 1976. I visited with my mother (who was born there) at various times before that when it was still very much the other side of the Iron Curtain. How intermitten next week will be depends on the state of internet connections, but I anticipate the blog spluttering back gently towards life again over the next few days, DV.

Back at home, Job No. 1 on the Big Guilt Prevarication Domestic List for some time has been the fish tank, which has needed a comlete reboot for a not inconsiderable time. Ridden with algae and worse, it contained, by the beginning of August, one single minnow, known in the trade as Michael Fish. Michael has been looking at me reproachfully for most of last year, and I have now bumped up his accommodation and social lfe with 20-odd companions, aided and abbetted by Chris and Erica, friends of Lucy’s who are moving and needed to find a home for some of theirs.

So now we have a cheerful tank in the hall, the little darlings chuntering around as tropical fish do. Most unanticipated has been our first pet crustacean, Kevin the Raw Prawn. He isn’t cuddly, but he’s got a certain je ne sais quoi (Why, after all, would anyone with half a braincell keep a prawn as a pet?). He is shy and retiring, but comes out about twice a day, stands on a rock like the Lion King banging his chest, and waves his multifarious arms and legs around cheerfully at anyone who can be bothered to give him any attention.

Lucy and I have found fish to be a restful accompaniment to morning prayer, even slighty disturbing see-through Glass Catfish.

We have sat together a couple of evenings wondering how fish can be so much more engaging, in their own way, than anything on 600 odd channels of TV next door...

Solar Heating Payback Time

Avid readers of this blog may note that it started on 7 August 2007 with a piece about the new family splash pool — it cost £150 on eBay, and has brought countless hours of joy to various people from all around over the past three years. It gets, to put it mildly, intensive, almost daily use.

The day after it went in (2006), Nick came back with a bunch of friends from school who jumped into the freezing water. I went down to check everyone was undrowned, and a head emerged from the freezing waves to the immortal line “excuse me, mister; have you got a heater for this thing?” Three weeks and various old bits of washing machine linkage later we had heating but the cost of running it was not fun.

This year with the help of Ken the Swimming Pool man in High Wycombe we have bitten the bullett and upgraded to Solar Heating. The first day temperature was up to 21 degrees. After the sun today, the water reached 31 degrees, far higher than anything we have ever achieved with electricity. Going on Ken’s calculations, that’s payback in 6 weeks. Is this a record?

And this afternoon the pool sprung a leak. But that’s another story.

Wildlife update: fantastic Mrs Fox

After yesterday’s animal magic, in which, may I say, beginner’s luck won through and I was most triumphant, now every wild animal in Bucks is calling round for a blessing. I am, in principle, a man of peace, but if this behaviour carries on will end up applying a water pistol, if not a shotgun, to our furry cousins. This morning Lucy and I were woken at 5·10 (5·10!) by a fox and a muntjac deer. I applied a camera not water (or other) pistol to the situation. This once. Preaching to the animals is a new line for me, and this morning’s message was: “Go away you little blighters. Haven’t you got homes to go to?” This splash comes with a Hello Magazine exclusive on our latest phasmid baby. Thus on to weightier matters than wildlife...
The legendary Mrs Trellis of North Wales points out to me that in Matthew 8:20, Jesus says that foxes do, in fact, have homes to go to. It’s good to know that. If tomorrow the foxes would care to follow Jesus’ instructions in this matter, this county will have a less grumpy bishop on Tuesday. Thank you very much.

Swimming pool attendants of the world, unite!

Chemicals? Water testing? Pump maintenance? heater control?

When my chaplain retired to Cyprus, she left us the [remains of] a 32 foot splash pool. Sadly the mice in their garage had got there first. Cutting it into 6 inch strips with a Stanley knife (Lucy did that bit) and getting it down the dump (together), left us with a mossy patch in the lawn and some rather disappointed children. Two days and £155 later, with a bit of help from eBay, we were the proud owners of a new 18 foot splash pool. Deep Joy. 4 foot deep.

But soft! some lucky lad has to fallolop about around it for ten minutes every day — keeping it chlorinated, controlling its alkalinity, zapping the slugs, hoovering it out in the rain, cleaning the filters, engineering a heater pressure relief valve with washing machine components from Homebase.

I always wanted to own a boat. Now I know why I don't... but the sprogs like it anyway.