Well it’s been a mixed week here at Waspie HQ, the supreme fun of a go on a cherry-picker and some serious silliness. The wasps’ nest that was approached by way of powered machinery was, actually, just about reachable with a very long lance but who wouldn’t go for a ride?
The chap in charge of this marvellous powered machinery was supposed to be painting when he was stalled by said nest, so he was more than happy to drive a waspie heavenwards, offer support, assistance and a guided tour of all the mechanical bits. I do like mechanical bits.
In other news, it’s been a week of impossible-to-find houses and other dimwittery. It would appear that the posher you are, the less likely you will be to bother to give your house a number. Fancy Lodge, Superior Lane may be an address to conjure with but it requires hapless contractors and other tradesman’s entrance types to waste half an hour of a busy day crawling along posh lane, trying to read the tiny name on every sodding gatepost. Presumably if they needed a fire engine they’d be a bit more accommodating.
First prize this week goes to the lady who was perfectly capable of saying
ah yes, when you get to the end of the tarmaced road, the even numbers go up the track to the left and the odd numbers go up the track to the right, we’re about half a mile along
but only after we’d gone the wrong way and had to reverse all the way back down a crappy rutted track full of even numbers, not when she first called to give us an address of ‘number 9′.
And second prize…to the lady who got up a ladder to spray her wasps’ nest with domestic fly spray. “They stung me three times!”