May 17th 2018

Help us! Its like a woodland Live Aid, in a way, but without the television appeals and the pop stars. I wonder if any other peoples plight is not noticed? I think the difference is it’s about nature being unable to control the circumstances it finds itself in. The Tadpoles keep on surprising us with their survival prowess. Tiny puddles harbour how ever many amphibian swimmers, the puddles turn to mud, then dry out and so do the organisms. I am beginning to think these lot are super organisms.

A tune half way through? What the hell is going on? Never mind, just enjoy, they’re young let them play the tune.

M bounded in today with a rap he had prepared on the way down the path through the field, his sleeves and torso glistening with the yellow pollen of the Oilseed Rape plant N and M walk through each day top meet up with the C and the D. M revealed to us today, after the rap ( I can’t really remember but it was pretty much incendiary to the east side of Worcester, there will be blood) M then told us he was up saving a rabbit from the jaws of his cat at 5am this morning, as Roy Castle mentioned; dedication was indeed what you need if you wanted to etc…

Today it was all about M (we were his M people) and he certainly didn’t disappoint; resplendent in Khaki Jeans or trousers masquerading as denim, M sported a twill shirt with country pattern, like a tartan without the infill, empty squares basically. So he turned up with a fascinating story that a lady from Switzerland had asked M if he was from the “Country” when he was out shopping or dogging in Birmingham, I can’t remember which it was, it all happened so fast. So M, looking the country gent basked in the glory of being labeled a stereotypical Englander, as labeled by a mainland European dweller, just because of the clothes he wore. More of that I say, bring back the national costume, I not sure I can bring too mind the last national costume we had anyway, any ideas? I’ll remember later I’m sure, Beefeater, Bee-Keeper, Crick-Eater? (read that like a poem, it scans well). The good news is that M was our Shrawley ambassador in the big smoke and he pulled it off with aplomb, he handled the potential crisis situation and turned it on its head, Boom! A goal for Leicester.


After the shocking assumptions that children had stolen the Ministry’s lookout policeman, after all who else could it be? They spend their lives in the disturbance of others, namely their controllers, us adults. So with the bathroom at home becoming closer and closer to completion, the towel mountain in my study has slightly dwindled and so views of the futon have been sighted, in fact I found my trucker cap  so thank god I can protect myself form the harsh Herefordshire summer sunshine. Now looking out over the Oilseed Rape field is a lego man with a wolf like hat on, not sure if it’s the right talisman to have but maybe when more of the ex-airing cupboards contents become visible and rehoused we may find further headgear under the towels and duvet covers. Eagle eyed followers, theres not many of you, may have spotted something else on the installation….

Give up?

It’s the stick, lying down. Needless to say we fucked it off into the weeds.

We take no prisoners, the Ministry, for it is us who control the to-ing and fro-ing woodwise.


The ferns are coming up, they are the next to take over and much fun hiding within will be had towards the end of the summer when they are massive and too much for a weaker man to handle.

Please keep following, I’m going to do some more challenges soon. That was not meant to sound desperate; and it’s not and nor am I. Get down, get up, get down, get up… I think that may be James Brown.

On a nature tip, and as celebration of myself seeing my first ever Hare today, this losing my Hare spotting virginity occurred on the Shrawley- Great Witley road, the field used to be asparagus but now I suspect something else, its thicker. Firstly, they are enormous, I did a double take as I thought  it may have been a Muntjac, but he hung around and lovely he was too, I hope one day to see the same Hare again, so we can talk about the first time I saw him and he ignored me. I’m pretty sure all wildlife hate us, and have no place for us at their dinner tables, why can’t we do the same? No I’m not interested in the Vegan point of view, its been said recently that a lot of vegans probably just fill them selves up with shitty french fancy cakes ( this is an unproved unverified vegan fact of the day) but the fat bloke in the pub told me so.



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