Ink marks on a blank page Mon 20th December

There it be, wasn't going to write again until after 'THE' day, but there are one or three things that weigh heavily over the robbi at this moment. Nothing so heavy that you will be sick with angst or want to rise up and dowse one with flames, or maybe you might. Should you be animal lovers, or more to the point , admirers of Rattus norvegicus, then look away .Go no farther.

We all have things that in life we do not mutter about in polite society, or should do, just little pecadilloes about oneself that are best left under the blanket ,to use a metaphor. I am one such, for it are in life that it is my downfall ,some would say, the robbi is a little bit of a softy. To be a softy is not a pecadilloe or something to despise, not at all and possibly when I started to use the p word you came over all hot 'n' bothered like, are we going to get into the good stuff now, a la bold & the beautiful et al. The robbi cries in movies ,at weddings/watching some plays/reading great poetry/listening to good music at toddlers who the cutest things and when I slip off the pedals of my bike to hit the cross bar.

Oh I feel that I am rambling but shall endeavour to make a point, which is.

That I live in the suburbs of a small city(1.8mill) in an newish house, which is opposite a park that has a river running through. Said river is about 50 yards from my front door. The house itself is reasonably large and on a flat block slightly elevated up from the road that runs in front. The block size is 925 sq metres and has a large front garden composed of native plants bisected by a dry creek (of river pebbles). The back has a side garden of native plants and a pond, a raised herb bed two citrus trees,bay tree,plum ,two nectarine,one apricot,one peach and a 5thous gall rain water tank. The fruit trees are espaliered onto frames which contain within a chicken house complete with two chickens. The whole is complimented by various gates /paths/a shed/compost bins and the minutae of living. There are several pieces of statuary of mine scattered about with a totem pole that I made (carved) for my grandchildren,now 4 off.Along the side of the house is a pergola that extends over the pond. The pond was really a mistake as I dug it in a fit of pique one day when upset with Hortense, one of those projects that one does in a flurry of bad temper and much sweat. I say mistake as after installing said pond it are somewhat of a chore to maintain, also to keep the water from growing masses of algae come summer I had to build a pergola over it. That is also why one should never do in fits of pique, it always invariably blows back in your face. That we are well pleased with the garden as a whole is a comfort, therefore the pique never gets a mention. To save the grandchildren from floating in the pond I have placed temporary pieces of mesh over it, said mesh somewhat removes the esthetic effect that pond lends to the ambience of the place but it do stop little people from drowning.

The above is not meant to convey to you a sense that the robbi is a landscaper extreme, or the most diligent of gardeners nor anything else that springs to your collective mind(s), merely though to illustrate perhaps a small point of the robbi psyche,ie softy.
For the thing is y'see if you have fruit trees in your back garden in OZ you will have rodents who visit when the fruit is ripening and or falling to the ground , ripe. my guess is that in other climes it are the very same, but although I have lived amongst others in different cities/countries I have only ever grown fruit here.I have read in various tomes too that when in a city one is only ever no more thant ten feet from a rat, two or four legged I have no idea.
Rats are not my favourite persons, either variety, the human or other.From herein this gets amight squeamish to recite, so I shall be as brief as I can. We have ascertained several facts, the growing of fruit attracts rodents, they spoil the fruit, I don't like them, the robbi is a softy. So I saw that rats persons were eating my glorious peaches, I purchase bait,they ate the bait. So much so did they eat the bait I assumed that either the rat(s) actually were getting fat on my bait or I was harbouring several packs of the beasts. I purchased rat cage, the gentleman selling the cage told me that it would catch a rat, to dispose of said rat I was place rat cage into a large bucket of water and proceed to instruct said rat into the art of swimming underwater without a snorkel or any other method of gaining air with which to breath. Lo, the very first time I set rat cage up I caught a very fine, large specie of Rattus norvegicus. Bucket of water at the ready I proceed with swimming lesson uno. Alas the cage was just exactly the same height as the bucket resulting in rat being able to tread water and just keep its little pink snout above the water line.Dilemma, what to do, grab the hose turn water tap to max and force snout under the water.
Damn but that little bugger could turn a nifty somersault or three I can tell you, also in the course of somersaulting rat was taking deep breaths. Eventually though the force of water and the iron will of the robbi caused rat to ingest enough so as to sink gracefully down, but I swear to you with such a look of "help me please' on its face I found it hard to get t sleep that very night.

There you have the saga of robbi who has had to go back to the laying of baits as he cannot face having to endure giving more underwater swimming lessons.Oh do not mutter amongst yourselves that I should just get a deeper bucket, as it is each time I walk past that bucket I can still see rat turning a soulful eye toward me, I swear that one arm was raised in a farewell gesture as it breathed in the last mouthful of H2o.

I leave you with a small pictorial of the robbi garden, do not judge me too harshly, a man sometimes has to do that which he thinks a man must do.