Moles, hills

The mole's back.

We thought he had been run over, as we found a very squashed, slightly dessicated corpse in the road outside the house. It was either a mole or a young rat on his way to watch a major sporting event, wearing two of those giant foam hands.

Anyway.

The front garden has an ever-increasing tunnel network developing, which is ruining the pristine loveliness of the velvet lawns.*

Mr WithaY, in an alarming echo of the grand old Jasper Carrott Mole Story, has taken to stamping furiously on the mole tunnel tracks, particularly where it looks like a molehill might be developing. He thinks this will annoy the moles to such an extent that they will go and live somewhere else.

Never mind the moles, I'm beginning to think that way.

This evening, apparently, he has been outside watching the ground, and when he saw movement, he jabbed down through the disturbed earth with one of his longbow arrows, trying to maim or destroy the little invaders.

Once again, I wish I was making this stuff up.

The moles must be thinking "Fuck, civilisation's crumbled....they've reverted to traditional weapons up there."

I might sneak out to Mole Valley Farmers and buy a trap over the weekend.

If I don't get a trap, I might just stock up on sheep ointment. And a new scythe. And some farmer-wear clothing. And a huge industrial-sized box of washing powder. And a ham. I love that shop.

Other news: Got stuck in the middle of a military convoy on my way to work this morning. I pulled out of a junction in the middle of Salisbury Plain and found myself sandwiched between about 7 huge trucks in front, and another 5 or so behind.

It was slow, slow going. I think the top speed we managed was about 35 mph. Going up the hills, we were down to a grindingly frustrating 15mph, plus I got to enjoy the choking fumes as the truck in front struggled to make it all the way up to the top.

Despite the bendy, hilly, high-hedged nature of most of the roads, some idiots did suicidal overtaking manoeuvres, causing the oncoming traffic to swerve and flash their lights. I always half hope to find the fuckwits in question upside down in a ditch around the next bend.

On the bright side, the police were out in force again with their "for your safety**" speed traps. If there's any justice, a certain silver Mercedes is getting a nasty letter through the post soon.

I feel a bit less grouchy about work too. I've decided to get a lot more assertive with people, and to simply get on with my job. To this end, I emailed one of the external organisations I deal with and told them "As from next month, I will no longer represent my organisation at your meetings. I have passed your requirements to our central strategic team, they will be in touch to let you know who can help you."

I copied the email to the strategic people (who I had already spoken to) and my new boss. By doing that, I free myself up at least 1 day a month in London, which also saves my office £100 quid in train tickets.

Also, as I am out of the office on holiday most of next week, I emailed my team with a list of stuff I want them to do while I'm away. They're a good team, and more than capable of getting on with stuff, but I feel better about having left them with my expectations.

But. Next week. On holiday for most of it. Yay!



*I told you, in my head I have a garden like Hampton Court Palace.

**my arse