Turning Crap into Gold

It's been a while since writing my my last blog. Some of you may have feared the worst, but fear no more, I'm still here. It's just that I've been a little busy and my photo output has been temporarily reduced.

So, a little catching up...

Life is, as always, full of projects. Project 'Get Fit or Die' didn't end in the latter. Next year I'm going to attempt to finish the local 10K without another near-death experience. Project Farmhouse (aka Project Money Pit) is finally finished, with the terrace all sorted, the only remaining job is the driveway, which should be done in the next couple of weeks or so.

In the meantime, the usual torrent of visitors remains unabated. We had several great weeks skiing (on thin snow) in the Pyrénées with all and sundry. 

 

And so to that long term project; the garden. Terraforming has been completed, now swapping diggers for shovels. It's developing into something of a fantasy theme park with lots of odd places around every corner. And there are a lot of corners...

We have Waterworld with Jurassic Pond (you are of course aware that birds are now classified as dinosaurs aren't you?) a Koi Pond, a Lily Pond and soon to arrive, a Lotus Pond. Sounds crazy huh?

 

 

Poo Corner is under construction, as is Narnia and the famous Lamp-Post.

Jurassic pond was finished about a year ago, and is now full of life. The chickens they are a'layin', the ducks they are a'rapin', and the fish, ah the fish...

About a year ago I attempted to buy about 60 goldfish online. Due to my inadequacy in the French translation department, instead of delivering two lots of 30 fish, much to the amusement of the delivery man I took receipt of two goldfish, each about 30 cm long. A hundred quid for two bleedin' fish, 50% of which was rapidly consumed by a heron. 

Not to be beaten down by this setback, I descended on the local pet shop to buy 30 tiddlers. Needless to say, they did not fill the pond with colour, in fact from that day they were not seen again. Until last week.

It appears that the one remaining large fish escaped the heron's appetite and must have been mightily pregnant. To my astonishment, just last week, there appeared at least one hundred bright shiny goldfish, each more than 20cm long! 

 

There were tears.

This rate of growth for this number of fish is incredible, especially as the only food provided for them was duck poo. 

Thus the title of this blog.

Which brings me to an all new project: Project Barn Railway.

Ever since I was a young boy ogling the miniature rail-set built by my brother, I have had absolutely NO interest in building one myself. Until now. With modern tech, instead of having one train chugging around a track monotonously, you can now have up to twelve zooming around tooting and puffing! Wow. Gotta do that! All I need is the space. And voila! Cunningly hidden in the Barn is a mezzanine 13x4 metres. Yup, there is to be housed a mega-mini model railway. Just give me a few years to finish it....

Toot toot!

Chasing Cheeks.

Passing the finishing line for the ten kilometre run in the Montauban Marathon last weekend was a slight disappointment. It's not that I could've gone on much further. No, not that (because, frankly, I was close to collapse). It wasn't even the lack of endorphin rush that everyone keeps telling me about. (Is that even a thing?)

It was the end of the bottoms.

Let me explain.

I was on my own. Several had promised to run with me to help carry my portable respirator, none turned up. I was to run alone. No one to chat to, no one to offer cardiac massage. Alone.

We set of slowly...

 

Well, I did anyway. 

It soon became clear that my training had not fully prepared me. These guys were running! Bloody hell! I needed to improvise. 

Whilst running, my field of view is somewhat narrow. I run looking down to check for stones and crevasses (I did train in the Pyrénées). This was different. Instead of rough tracks, there were lots of bottoms. Seriously! Pretty much all that I could see were bottoms. 

I had to turn this to my advantage. I focused on a passing pert derriere, and tried to keep up with it. I pushed myself to  stay close, fearful that I might lose that pert bottom, only for it to be replaced by something less attractive. Now I understand the word 'attraction'.

Well, I made it. Here I am looking totally knackered...

 

Unfortunately that was taken before the race...

And so, a big thank you to all my sponsors and a couple of pert bottoms. Seriously guys, thank you so much those that sponsored my run. I'm pretty sure that I wouldn't have had the will-power to do all that training if it wasn't for you. 

The total sponsorship was well over a thousand dollars!! I'm humbled. That sort of figure will certainly make a difference to the African Wildlife Foundation.

 

Thank you.

Phil

PS. If you want to further help the AWF, please visit www.philhyde.photos and buy photos, download, mugs etc. ALL profits go the AWF.

Against all the odds

It has been an uphill battle, a series of unfortunate events, a fight for the finish line. 

This blog is based on a true story.

Today was a landmark day for me. And my dog. 

My fight for fitness has been more than a little fraught, leaving behind me a wake of littered bodies along with several bits of me...

After a false start 4 years ago, whence my failed attempt at running a 10K ended in hospital, I am now nearing my goal. Others, who have tried to help, have failed.

Take, as an example, my first running mate Paul, he of triathlon and Iron Man fame. Once he saw my fleetness of foot, easily outpacing all molluscs, he gave up, stating various excuses such as having to be at the side of his wife whilst in hospital and having major knee surgery himself. Poor excuses indeed. 

And then Geoff. After his first attempt to keep alongside me, his gastrocnemius gave way. (His version of the story would have you believe this happened on the ski slopes, hah!)

Then fate itself tried to intervene. On finishing my first 8 kilometre jog but two days ago, my feet ended up soaked in blood. Details have fortunately been redacted, suffice to say that one of my secondary sexual organs had a slight relapse. I now look forward to a camera being thrust somewhere where the sun never shines. No, not my bottom....

Leaving hospital, we travelled to the Pyrénées, via several toilet stops...

picking up Luke and Marta on the way.

Yesterday was a day of recovery, involving sliding down slopes rather than jogging up them.

 

Leading to today.

It was to start with a gentle jog up the mountain. Luke was to be my latest victim, but he suddenly discovered that remaining in bed was preferable to assaulting the mountains. There was only one to turn to. My trusty dawg, Sky.

 

When I say 'trusty' I mean that she can be trusted to eat anything. Alive or dead, moving or still. Anything. She is the very definition of a black hole. Forget global warming, our planet is gradually disappearing into Sky's gob.

Thus we set off. My jog was interrupted by the occasional poop stop (for Sky) and pee stop (for me). After jogging about 2K horizontally and what felt like 10K vertically, Sky came hopping past me. 

Passing me was quite understandable, but the hopping bit struck me as odd. Last time I looked, she was not of the rabbit persuasion. I stopped to give her a cursory glance (what us medical types call a full examination). This is one of those cases that jumps out and grabs you by the throat. 10 seconds to diagnose had to be spread over 20 minutes in the consultation room back in the day. Not necessary now, isolated in the middle of the thrusting mountain peaks. Her anterior cruciate had gone or, more technically, her knee was buggered.

Another had fell by the wayside. 

The return home was kept to Sky's new hobbling three legged rate (a fast jog for me). Once settled in, I set off once more for the mountain tops, completing my first ever 10K. Yay for me!

Well, we've now returned from another day on the slopes with the usual amazing views...

 

of the inside of a cloud...

Celebrations were somewhat reduced by Sky's debility...

 

Good night all...

Oh yes, thank you all for your amazing donations. Two weeks to go and already over one thousand dollars. I am humbled.

If any more wish to help save the planet, click here...

THANK YOU!!!

Saving Species - Cunning Plan B

Plan A comes to fruition at the end of March. By then I need to be fit. No longer a fat old git. Wish me luck.

Your donations have been amazing. I quickly surpassed the 500 dollar mark and now hope for 1,000! So thank you all. If any still wish to give, here's the link:

Phil's 10K

Nearly 100 elephants are slaughtered every day to feed to the blood ivory trade. Rhino horn is more expensive than gold, and greedy poachers are eager to make a profit from killing these endangered animals. All of Africa's great apes are endangered.

Thus onto Plan B; the website.

PhilHydePhotos

See my photos, then download or print to help save wildlife on our planet.

I've redesigned the homepage as well as working my way through several galleries including most of the African wildlife as well as some triptychs.

Plus a completely new page where you can download desktop images for your computer. These cost between one and three pounds, with ALL of it going to the African Wildlife Foundation.

Desktop Wallpaper - PhilHydePhotos

Download to your desktop and save as a background image

Still trying to save animals after all these years....

Saving Species - Cunning Plan A

Some people say that the human race is heading for extinction. Well, there ain't a lot of evidence for that. Last time I looked the population was increasing rapidly; not the normal direction for species facing extinction. 

On the other hand, the evidence is perfectly clear that a huge number of animals are facing extinction. One of the latest to be added to the endangered list is this little bundle of fluff.

 

Most of these cheetah cubs do not survive. Their population numbers are plummeting. Link to study.

And then there's these huge buggers.

 

Those teeth of theirs are so much sought after that these giants are also heading for bloody extinction.

And then of course, the African Apes.

 

They to, are heading down the slippery slope. (Link.)

Well, probably none of this comes as a surprise to you. Doom and gloom seem to be everywhere. But no, there is good news (for instance, this). Some species are being saved and much work is being done to that end. 

In my opinion, the best of the charities out there is the African Wildlife Foundation  The international charity watchdogs rate them as one of the best charities on planet earth. (Charity Watch)

They need help, and I aim to give it. 

But why not charities to help children etc etc etc? Of those, there are thousands. Effective animal charities are few and far between.

And so to my cunning plan. Well, I have two cunning plans actually, and I hereby name this one 'Cunning Plan A'.

Cunning Plan A

Promise not to laugh? At the end of March this year I'm going to be doing a 10K run. 

I have tried this before. 4 years ago I started training for a 10K. It ended in disaster. I've blabbed on about the resultant problems before, so here's a précis: Broken ankle, blab blab blab, multiple stress fractures, blab, cough, blab, multiple joint arthroses, blab, cough, blab, eye surgery, blab, cough, blab blab, fat old git.

See what I did there? Degenerated, that's what I did there.

Anyway, I've started training again, lost 5 kilo in two weeks, up to 4K distance already and so far not fractured anything. 

Will I make it? Are you willing to put money on it? Well, if so, please click here...

https://fundraise.awf.org/phils-10k

I'm planning on running all the way, but apparently walking and ambulance are also allowable.

Meanwhile I'm working on another cunning plan. I will be announcing it within the next two weeks and, mark my words, this is a cunning plan to beat all cunning plans.

And it shall be called 'Cunning Plan B'.

One in a million

Once again, I wasn't on the New Years Honours list this year.  

I checked it once, and I checked it twice. No deal. 

Crazy isn't it? I struggle to bring up a family, struggle to make a successful business, donate 50p to the Red Cross every now and again, but simply because I'm not a celeb I don't get the opportunity to refuse an honour from Lady Muck.

Looking at those lists reminds me of college exams. Every year I'd spend 2 horrendous weeks with 6 hour a day written papers and oral exams in front of a group of patronising dick-heads. After that, they would post a list. 

Those with honours at the top. 

Then those who passed. 

Then those who failed one part of the five or so parts. These people would have to re-sit that part.

For those who failed and had to re-sit the whole bloody thing; nothing. 

Not on the list. 

Total nothingness.

Imagine reading through those 70 names looking for your own. And it's not there...

Nearly every bloody year I went through that. The stuff of nightmares. Literally the stuff of nightmares. I was still having those nightmares more than twenty years later.

Well, I do get the occasional success, and yesterday just such an event happened. 

I posted this photo onto the photo website flickr:

 

and guess what? It took me past a million views of the photos that I've posted over the last nearly 5 years. 

Amazing huh?

Here's the evidence:

 

Well, maybe not so amazing. 

There are ways and means of bumping up your numbers. Some find a type of photo that's popular, and then repeat almost exactly the same thing ad nauseum. With luck, you can get your picture on 'Explore' which assures loads of views. I used to regularly get those, but it has become more difficult of late because of the hoards of people posting on flickr

A couple of years ago, I posted lots of photos from a trip to Tanzania. I knew they would get picked. They didn't. Thus I tried experimenting and got success with this photo.

 

Anyhow, they do occasionally pick ones I like...

 

So, is it a great achievement? 

No. 

But is does give me a warm fuzzy feeling inside

I like warm fuzzy feelings....

The Fog of Time

Entering a few weeks with no guests has given me the opportunity to peruse my navel, looking back through the fog of time.

Come to think of it, the bloody fog is everywhere. A few days before xmas, we had just bid farewell to Geoff & Bernie (Geoff; an old school mate and also a vet), their last words being how they will miss the wonderful weather. Well, talk about putting a hex on things, the very next day the clouds lost their footing in the skies and decided to hang around at ground level for a while.

A long while.

Our Christmas guests were somewhat short-changed. Fog kept us indoors, forcing us to eat and drink to be merry.

Fed up of all this gloom, we headed off for the South of Wales.

At this point you may question my rational decision making abilities.

And you'd be right.

 

This was one of the few photo opportunities that the soup-like conditions offered. 

Here's another...

 

And so it goes...

 

Fog on the Wye.

People of a certain age will be reminded of the song 'Fog on the Tyne'. Memory tells me that this was a great song. It seems my memory has become infected with the perfidious fog.

This song has a back-story. When I was a young student, for one of my less salubrious years I lived in the East-End of London. This was a pretty grim area, being the only place we could find that accepted both students and dogs. On the ground floor was a long disused rat-infested restaurant. We had the next two floors, and above lived a couple of other students hailing from Newcastle. They tended to hang out with a couple of groupies, thus leading me to one of my greatest lost opportunities; sleeping with the Sensational Alex Harvey.

Don't ask.

The other inhabitant of that near ruin was a poltergeist.

I know this because the girlfriend of my room-mate saw it. Her sanity cannot be questioned. She got mad when you questioned her sanity.

We guessed something was up when we returned from the pub (see more such adventures below) to find her sitting outside the building in 'nowt but her nighty. Sitting outside fully-clothed would have been risky enough, thus we surmised that something was 'up'.

She explained how she had seen the incarnation of a tortured spirit, forever tied to the building in permanent torment.

"We must help this ghost by finding what is holding it here" she explained. "I had a vision of an old church and graveyard. We must help".

And so we spent a jolly half hour searching around the house for 'no one knew what'.

We gave up and retired to bed, where I spent an uncomfortable night dwelling upon my scepticism. The sound of mice beneath my bed did not help to ward off the tingles in my spine.

The next morning; a shout of "I've found it!" woke me early. The guys upstairs had spotted a picture cunningly stuck to the underside of the stairs above.

A picture of a church and graveyard. With blood dripping ominously down one of the gravestones.

Drip.

Drip.

(Actually is was an orange stain on the picture...)

”WE MUST BURN IT TO FREE THE SPIRIT" cried our erstwhile ghostbuster.

Thus, a ceremony was held, the picture burnt, the ghost freed. It has not been seen since.

Now some may question the veracity of this story. They should not. It is true. The mental health of my friends' companion may have been slightly suspect (it almost certainly was) however, the story was as told. If the ghost did exist (and, of course, it didn't) then was it the ritual burning that freed it, or was it the constant sound of Lindisfarne coming from on high?

The guys on the top floor both adored Lindisfarne, the band responsible for the above song. They played their one album ad nauseam. All the bleeding time. When their vinyl disc player was not available, they sang their songs. Many a night would find us stumbling back from the local boozer singing:

 'But it's alright Lady Eleanor,

Alright Lady Eleanor.

I'm alright where I am.'

In retrospect, we probably sung it better than the original.

Since then I have avoided that band as if they were the plague. Now, 42 years later, and nearly recovered, my foggy brain has been once more directed toward the 'Fog on the Tyne'. Time for another listen.

Such timeless lyrics.:

'Cause the fog on the Tyne is all mine, all mine. 

The fog on the Tyne is all mine'.

And then:

’We can swing together

We can have a wee wee

We can have a wet on the wall

If someone slips a whisper

That his simple sister slapped them down

And they slavered on their smalls'.

What more can one say? If they'd sung it in key maybe it would have marginally improved things. 

It'll be at least 42 more years before I listen to it again...

In between fog dodging and reminiscing, we did see the old offspring, here's a blurry photo of one...

 

...and here's Sienna doing an impression of a famous Who song...

 

and then another impression of something scary...

 

One disadvantage of taking photos in the fog is forgetting to reset the camera when trying to take portraits. Despite this handicap I'm including the following photo of Tony and Sue because she really wanted to be in a blog.

This ones for you Sue..