Author: pete

Categories
Critters Gardening

Pirates and Ninjas

Cryptolaemus

*Cryptolaemus* are hefty, slow, but unstoppably brutal. They devour mealybugs in vast quantities, plowing through dense egg masses like tanks. Each individual may consume up to 250 mealybugs during its 2-3 week larval stage, and each adult female may lay up to 400 eggs in her lifetime. Do the Maths yourself.

*Cryptolaemus* are cool for the same reasons that pirates are cool.

Leptomastix

*Leptomastix* are small, nimble, and move faster than the eye can see. The female pounces upon the fully-grown mealybug, delivering an attack that will irreversibly lead to a slow, agonising death, before disappearing into the night without a trace. Within two weeks, up to 100 mealybugs will be the victim of this fearful assassin. No matter where her enemies hide, she will find them.

And what is this mysterious poison that she uses? *Her own offspring*, who will devour her target from the inside out.

*Leptomastix* are cool for the same reason that ninjas are cool.

Categories
Parenting Peril

A horror story

This story is disgusting and should only be read by those who have nerves of steel.

Continue reading “A horror story”
Categories
Computing

How rude!

Are you running a recent version of Firefox? ((where recent is defined as “has built-in spellchecker”)) Yes? Then try this…

1. Go to the comments form for this entry.
2. Type buckinghamshire into the text field (with a space at the end)
3. Note the red squiggly line – this means that the word is not in Firefox’s internal dictionary.
4. Right-click on “buckinghamshire” to see what words *are* in Firefox’s internal dictionary.
5. How rude!

Categories
Uncategorized

Clightnubs

Charlie Brooker on nightclubs…

> Even if you somehow avoid reproducing, isn’t it a lot of hard work for very little reward? Seven hours hopping about in a hellish, reverberating bunker in exchange for sharing 64 febrile, panting pelvic thrusts with someone who’ll snore and dribble into your pillow till 11 o’clock in the morning, before waking up beside you with their hair in a mess, blinking like a dizzy cat and smelling vaguely like a ham baguette? Really, why bother? Why not just stay at home punching yourself in the face? Invite a few friends round and make a night of it. It’ll be more fun than a club.

I occasionally find myself in a nightclub. I wouldn’t say that I enjoy it, but sometimes I come away with an amusing anecdote. And at the end of the day, what would life be without amusing anecdotes? More to the point, what would this blog be without amusing anecdotes? (Yes, I know, just a series of 500×375 photographs).

Categories
Critters Top Photos

Cricket

Cricket

There’s a cricket in our bedroom. It appeared overnight, to give us a little private gig.

We’re wondering if it will have moved on to the next venue by this evening, or if it’s going to be in residency.

Categories
Critters

Crab Spider

Crab Spider

I believe that this pale green specimen in a crab spider. It’s the first time that I’ve seen a spider this colour.

Categories
Critters Gardening

Bee on anemone

Bee

This plant has been at the bottom of the garden, spreading its ugly leaves wider and wider, and Karen and I were slowly appreciating it less and less. Then, suddenly, flower buds appeared – dozens of them. And we like it now.

Categories
Critters Gardening

Butterfly

Butterfly

A butterfly on my son’s sand-and-water play table.

Categories
Photos

Cracked Disc

Cracked

The other day, I beat up a CD with a drumstick in order to set an excellent example to my son. The results were beautiful.

Categories
Meander

Another aquatic tale

Driving home from work on Friday evening was an ordeal. My main route home was impassable, and my second choice was even worse.

My third choice involves a very narrow country lane, but I figured that I might as well give it a whirl, because the alternative was a very, very long detour.

Things were looking promising, and I encountered three cars coming the other way, in quick succession. This was a good sign, because it meant that the road was passable. If it had been impassable, then these three cars would have either been reversing, or much more spread out. I reached the very lowest point on the road, where a large, deep puddle crossed my path. I slowed down, but not too much, and went through.

As I drove through the puddle, I became aware of two things.

Firstly, a quantity of steam coming off the bonnet of my car. This was a little worrying, but I kept my faith.

Secondly, a motorcyclist coming in the other direction, with a look of terror on his face, hollering something incomprehensible. We must have entered the water at about the same time.

It wasn’t until late that night, trying to get to sleep, that I cast my mind back to the motorcyclist. With the clarity of hindsight, I could now picture him in my rear view mirror, totally submerged by the wall of water being thrown up by my car.

And I racked my brains to try and figure out whether he had entered the water before or after me. Because my conscience really wants it to be the latter.

For the record, I did get home eventually. My third route was impassable, as was my fourth, but by this point I was close enough to home that I could park the car on high ground, roll up my trouser legs, and it was only a five minute walk home. All in all, it took me an hour to get home, where it normally takes me 10-15 minutes.