Culling is too good for them…

It is possibly a sign of me getting more evil with age. However, i am smugly happy as the neighbour who cut down the trees in the park loses fifty feet of grassland and gains a reflecting pond that extends into his back yard. Over his property boundary, imagine that.

I try not to be too smugly happy, as smugness begets fucktarditis. Besides, it’s only just winter, the flooding isn’t bad yet. The ponds are only just filled, the driveways that spend most of the colder months under water are still only puddled. We’re watching with interest to see how bad the flooding gets, whilst hoping we don’t go under too. Sorta “we iz up yr hill, smirking at yr fludwaterz”.

The neighbour who cut down the trees, he’s got some serious flooding going on, thanks to he and the neighbour on the other side removing plants and trees in the park, and cutting the grass to bowling green lengths. That is, too short for a water meadow. This used to be a swamp, you see. They cut a few drains, but the shore has seasonal ponds and flooding.

The more trees, and grass let to grow a decent height, and natural marginal plants that do well in the brackish soil that edges the lake, the less flooding. So the stupid go under, because they want a nice line between their property and the lake, and weed out even full size trees that they consider ‘spoil’ their views.

Unfortunately, this place literally is a swamp, so one must expect seasonal changes with the water table. On the bright side, our bit of it is so windy, we hardly have any problem with mosquitoes.

Argh, just remembered, am going back to Queensland, land of the bugs that bite you. They have this thing referred to disparagingly as the midgie. It’s like a smaller version of a mosquito, they say.

Then you see the first angry red lump with blue lines leading from it, and stare, and your trusty native guide will tell you, “Midgie bite.” Like it’s nothing. They last for weeks, by the way, painful, itchy, and purple-red.

Naturally, being Queen of Darkness, in this topsy-turvy world, i have a natural concoction that keeps both those and the most evil mosquitoes away. I’m susceptible to mozzies – they love  my blood. My first six weeks in Queensland were a frantic search for something that would enable me to go outside without having to wear a mosquito net after dark.

I knew i was on the right track on a beautiful night in the sadly swampy Tweed basin, up on the NSW/Qld border, where i was outside, covered in my patent unguent, and not being bitten, while the mozzies went to the next victim in the chain.

Yes, i thought, victory is mine. Meanwhile, my friend was squealing as she got bitten and we all had to rush inside for her sake. So the moral probably is, it’s good to share the mosquito repellent. Yeah, and it’s just stupid to impose your artificial idea of ‘lakeside living’ on a nature reserve.

The book? It’s going well. This is me smiling in real life, because it is, and i’m not lying, saying “Yeah, great, well, i’m not doing great right now, but i have been, and the block’s are always only temporary…” Anyway, i’m not saying that, i’m just happy with how it’s shaping. And i want to get back to it now.

I just wanted to share my smugness… I’ll be enjoying it while i can. Yeah, before the floodwaters reach our place. These are tidal lakes, and we’re expecting king tides around the end of the first week of June. Lots of rain forecast, hoorah!

Yes, i know where my ark is – here at the Blog of Doom we believe in being prepared since that time we were caught completely unprepared, and discovered the state government was too. I’m sending Mr Whatsit out later, to stock up on chocolate to eat, and kitchen paper towel, to stuff in the leaky places.

Happy winter.

P.S. Mr Whatsit just saw some boys on pushbikes, none older than fifteen, try to break into the house across the road. He noticed them because they were making so much noise, he went to the front door. Six kids hanging out in at the front of the empty house were standing out a little.

To his surprise, they were trying to break in. He went out, yelled oi at them, and get this – they said, this isn’t your place. Well, no, it’s not, local fucktard child, but we’ll still stand up and say oi. Broad daylight. *shakes head*

The police were called, which was relayed across the road by Mr Whatsit calling it. The children seemed shocked at this interference by a neighbour who not only, they pointed out, didn’t own the house, but didn’t live there, and had no right to complain.

They were shouting this across the road as one continued to try to break in through the garage, in full view of and no more than ten feet away from the street. (About 3m.) No less than twenty or so houses could see what they were doing, including people out in their yard two houses away, and a real estate agent arriving to inspect the flood damage at the stupid people’s house. Mind you, nobody else said oi.

After some argument among themselves, (seriously, it was earnest, and audible from our place), the boys stopped trying to gain access over the side fence, or to lever the garage door open, and took off, jeering at Mr Whatsit, loud enough for the police on the line to hear.

Instead of heading for the nearest corner, not far away, they rode off up the hill, giving Mr Whatsit time to describe them all and their bikes to the cops.

Local fucktards in their natural habitat – on bmx bikes. Not one was over fifteen. I’m beginning to think retroactive abortion isn’t such a bad idea.



About stinginthetail

On Twitter as @stinginthetail. I write as Lee Abrey. Free copy of my top-rated book Polo Shawcross: The Birthday Dragon at View all posts by stinginthetail

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