Hippo Bloat and Implausible Gnus: Closing the Loop On My Let’s Phlog Monday Post

Following on from my last post about a collective of bloggers, here are the answers to the collective noun matching game:

Mumeration of starlings
Weyr of dragons
Storytelling of ravens
Rabble of butterflies
Ascension of larks
Fesnyng of ferrets
Convocation of eagles
Generation of vipers
Bloat of hippopotami
implausibility of gnus

 

Surprised? Think some of these are wonderfully appropriate? Humoured? Feel more educated? Couldn’t Give a Collective Noun F…?  The last is so implausible,  it could be a group of these!

 And now for the announcement of the winners of the 100 Curtain Credits (drumroll please):

The winner is….Sisyphus 47 for his answers and a bonus 20 Credits for giving it a go.

Also 50 Curtain Credits to btg5885, also affectionately known as Old Fart (he is anything, but) who blogs at Musings of An Old Fart. OF’s blog is thoughtful and compassionate and if there were more people in the world with OF’s sentiments, it would be a much better place. The Credits are rewarded for coming up with the groovy collective term “blogosophers” to describe the group of thinking man’s bloggers and for stating that I am one of them. Thanks OF, you too are a blogosopher of the first order.

Can we have collective noun of applause for these true winners, please?

Let’s Phlog Monday: What Do You Call A Group of Bloggers?

Well, another week has passed and another Monday is here to phlog.

You will be relieved that I have no deep and meaningful message for you in my photos today. Rather, I thought we’d play a little matching game.

When most non-Australian natives think of Australian wildlife, they probably think of these (hint: these are NOT my photos):

or these:

or maybe even these:

It doesn’t help that the foreign press seems to only ever write about Aussie wildlife when someone (usually a foreign tourist) dies. Our most recent shark attack/casualty happened only in the last couple of weeks off the coast of Western Australia, but to most of us Aussies that news is relatively ho-hum. We are not unfeeling or uncaring, but swimming in the ocean to us is like crossing the road. It’s an inherently unsafe activity, but experience and the odds tell us that we are highly unlikely to be shark’s dinner any time soon. Millions of people actually swim in Australian’s oceans every year without so much as a toe nibble or even a suck. As for crocs, well we know to feed them the foreign tourists first. Especially those tourists who wear crocs. And as for the spiders, we have a healthy respect for those, because they actually cohabit in our suburbs.

Despite common belief, Australians don’t don flack jackets and machetes when they venture out should they happen to meet wildlife. Most of us merely shoot the wildlife with cameras. Here’s some of the friendly animal-folk that I encountered over the last couple of weeks. No toe sucking or nibbling was involved… well not by the animals anyway and that’s ALL I’m going to say about that!

I therefore proudly present to you a herd of kangaroos, a team of ducks and a mob of cockatoos.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, what do you call a group of bloggers?

Is it a flock, a school, a convention, a rhumba or is it murder? Maybe it’s an ascension, implausibility, generation or plump?

All of these are real collective nouns. Who knew?

I’m leaning towards the term “blaggle” to describe a group of bloggers. Not only does it give good alliteration, but twists the old tongue. I’d love to hear any other suggestions you may have.

And whilst you are pondering that let’s see if you can match up the collective nouns in column A to the right animals in column B, consulting Google University if you must. Post your answers in the comments section.  The nearest correct entry or entries will each receive 100 Curtain Credits. If you have read my “Hi There” page you will know that these are pretty much worthless, but think of the glory of being right, people, think of the glory ! Oh, and the judge’s decision will be final.

Winners and Curtain Credit recipients will be announced by Friday 27 July.

Column A 

mumuration
weyr
storytelling
rabble
ascension
fesnyng
convocation
generation
bloat
implausibility
 

Column B

eagles
butterflies
gnus
larks
vipers
starlings
hippopotami
ravens
dragons
ferrets

 

Good luck!

Herding Teenagers? Unlocking The Secrets Of The Mo Code

School holidays.

Two seemingly innocuous words. School is a means of delivering education and education means empowerment. Holidays are fun, free, relaxed and something to look forward to.  School holidays are therefore an opportunity for fun, free, relaxed empowerment, right?

image from freedigitalphotos.net

If you are a mother of teenagers, like me, you’re now reading this sporting an all knowing grin. That grin that says you know otherwise, that years of experience has taught you that all the relaxing, fun and empowerment are on the kids’ side of the ledger and that you will be secretly applauding the day school resumes and your life returns to the track called S-A-N-I-T-Y. We never speak of this publicly of course, except to our closest confidants lest we be judged as anything less than wonderful parents. But tap into the roots of maternal realism and you will discover a world of secret code, secret handshakes and stories you won’t find in What To Expect When You Are Expecting.  This is called the Mo Code.

After three weeks of mid year break, my teens are back at school. This three-week break was a little different to past holiday breaks for several reasons. My 17 year old, Future Baseball Star, was eight short weeks away from “Trials” which is the last big exam event/ practice run before the real deal starting in late October. My 13 year old, Geek God in Training, just entered “manhood”, a significant event which we have celebrated in the past by embarking on a coming-of-age trip. As a family, we needed time together before the Teens scatter to the wind of their own lives. So, it was with much hope and determination that I herded the Teens and the Italian Stallion together for a five day road trip.

After you have attempted to herd cats teenagers a few times, you begin to learn the anatomy of the herding experience and as a community service to all of you would be mothers or mothers of teenage boys  in training, I present to you the following extract from the Mo Code. Please treat this with the reverence and confidentiality deserving of a rare glimpse into the secrets of the Code. For all you experienced mothers of teens or adults, treat this as reinforcement and part of the duty to support each other in this most arduous part of the parenting journey.

Herding Teens 101

    1. Once you have decided on the activity for which herding is required, give your teens the two weeks to go early warning signal. This allows time for your teens to process the information (this will take about four days) and for them to feel that they have issued you with the required number of complaints about said activity.

    2. Ignore said complaints or only deal with them by way of witty rejoinder. Never try to reason with your teens or state that contrary to their beliefs, your chosen activity will be fun, entertaining and memorable. Never show doubt or fear. Teens can sniff both a mile away.

    3.  During the lead up to the activity, eat and sleep well. You will need your strength.

    4. Invite your teens to research the place or activity beforehand and to suggest any things they might like to do. They will ignore this opportunity, but it is important that you issue the invitation.

    5. Subtly remind your teens to arrange or rearrange their schedules so that you have the required time available for the chosen activity. The key here is subtlety – you wouldn’t want them to miss anything really important to them, would you?

    6. Sporadically drop into conversation some of the detail of the activity you plan, but do not respond to the complaints or if you do, use only the strategy in B above. Teens do not like complete surprises.

    7. Issue the one week to go early warning signal. For details, see A above.

    8. Reassure your teens that any hotel or place where you will stay has electricity and a WIFI connection. Trust me, you can’t fight this one. It’s better to go with it and make sure you spend time away from the hotel or place.

    9. Have your teens pack their clothes etc. But do a quick check before you leave or you might end up with two T-shirts, three gadget chargers and one pair of boxers for a five day stay in winter! Have said teen take any necessary remedial packing action.

    10. Keep up the good cheer, positivity and unflinching witty rejoinders… you’re almost there!

    11. Pack any personal provisions you need to see you through the “Cacophony Of Complaints”. This is the first hour after you embark on your chosen activity where your teens will escalate their complaints to a crescendo and eventually come to realise there is no turning back. It is critical at this point you adhere to point B  above and also that you drop a few fart jokes (as opposed to actual farts) here and there. Deflection/distraction –  works for teens as well as it does for toddlers, only the level of (non) sophistication changes.  As for provisions, I suggest, as a minimum, an I-Pod, chocolate, chewing gum, reviews and info on the latest teen movies, games and bands and a water pistol.

    12. Playfully engage with your teenagers for the next couple of hours, humorously lamenting with them about how much being away from their usual routine does actually suck. Reminding them about world poverty at this point is not a good tactic, although reminding them about similar suckiness their mates had to endure at the hands of their parents seems to work.

    13. Herding completed. You are now free to go about the business of making happy family memories.

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

There it is, the thirteen steps to herding success from the Mo Code.  Successful herding will give you immense satisfaction and wonderful anecdotes.  Trust me, I know…I’m a professional.

Have you ever had to convince a less than supportive group to come along with you somewhere? Do you have any great herding stories? Any refinements to my extract from the Mo Code?

Let’s Phlog Monday: Shear Forces

M.I.A.

Three letters, one concept, apt description of the past couple of weeks.

There seems to be much to catch up on in blogdom since I was last here and I will endeavour to do so over the next few days.  But now it’s time for a good phlogging.

My last phlog centered on non-coastal landscapes and the search for the right pathway. Today, I would like to return to that landscape and explore the concept of sheer forces.

There is a duality in images of jagged rock. On the one hand the images can be beautiful and convey the passage of time and events. Examine the layers, each tells a story and provides a foundation to that which comes after it. Each layer is discreet, a beginning and an end. How many layers do we have in each of our lives? Have we built strong foundations for what is to come? Are we comfortable in having the layers exposed? Can we withstand a sheer force?

On the other had, the images can be harsh and unforgiving. The smoothness is hidden behind jagged edges and shattered pieces. Each break represents a cataclysmic  event, a force that was not reckoned with. A power that was not harnessed.

However, even a cataclysmic event, a sheer force creates something new that can be pleasing to the eye. Something that would never have been uncovered were it not for the application of an external event. Sheer forces bring a perspective we did not have before, a test of our strength and resilience and the opportunity to reshape and rethink. We may not immediately be able to deal with the exposed surfaces or jagged edges that ensue, but most will be smoothed and covered over time… if we let them and embrace the new landscape.

Enjoy these natural and man-made shear surfaces and think about your strength and beauty and the layers which represent the events and sheer forces in your life which you have survived.

Force

Fissure

Fracture

Function

Forward

Federation Square – Melbourne, Australia

Happy Monday and may you have the strength to withstand any shear forces that come at you this week.

Would You Want To Know The Halfway Point?

Firstly, thanks for embracing my Forest for The Trees post. I received some wonderful feedback on it and I am delighted that it resonated with many of you. Sometimes all it takes is to know that there is another human going through the same things or feeling the same emotions to lighten the load. If I have done that, even in a small way, then I’m happy.

Secondly, please forgive my absence of comments on some of your blogs. My Reader is having trouble updating and I am missing a lot of your blog posts. I’m going to have a crack at fixing the problem when I return from my next road trip which starts tonight. I m planning to return with some more great photos to share with you every Monday.

In the meantime, I’d like to leave you with these thoughts. Having reached middle age, I have a real sense that what has worked for me for the first forty something years of my life is not going to work for me for the next forty something. A very big part of Raising the Curtain is finding things, thoughts, methods and means that will work going forward.

One of my favorite quotes is from Soren Kierkegaard:

Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.

 

I am finding this quote has particular relevance at this middle stage of life.

Looking back, I can see that my discontent (for want of a better word) was building for the last three years. My thinking until recently was to just push through that discontent, but the personal price became too high. So I made some changes and will be making some more until recalibration has been achieved. Life has a way of throwing us pointers for our big decisions. The trick is to have your mind and heart open to recognise the signs and to appreciate them even if they point in a direction you haven’t before considered.

On my forest for the trees hike, I came across this sign:

At the time, finding it gave me comfort. It negated a lot of the variables that related to the walk we were taking – time, distance and energy required. It also confirmed we were on the right track.

It started me thinking (always dangerous!) as to whether it would be a good thing to have a similar sign pop up in our life’s journey so that we could be confident in living it and understanding it moving forward. Think about some scenarios:

    • Waiting for that train or bus
    • Waiting in that long queue, whether on the phone or in person
    • Waiting for your mate or significant other to come into your life or commit, whether that’s soul made, spouse, best friend, good friend
    • Knowing when you will have children
    • Knowing how long you have to endure ill/good health
    • Knowing how long you have to spend with a parent or other loved one
    • Knowing how long you will have to toil before you achieve that dream
    • Knowing how long you have above ground

Would you want to know the half way point?

Instinctively my answer for each of these scenarios would be yes. But this begs the next question:

Would knowing make a positive difference to your actions?

Knowing would certainly make planning easier and possibly bring some comforting validation, depending on which scenario applied. BUT I can’t help thinking that knowing in some of these scenarios would preempt certain negative outcomes, particularly if the halfway point is further than you expected.

The first two scenarios are “no-brainers”. I think we would all want to know the half way point. But what about the others?

Photo from freedigitalphotos.net

For example, would knowing how much time you have left on earth help you maximise that time or would you constantly feel under pressure to maximise every moment and be let down if you didn’t? Would you get the life equivalent of the 4pm Sunday afternoon work blues if you knew? Would you be discouraged or encouraged by reaching the halfway point?

Surely, the answer is individual for all of us.

Would I want to know?  Possibly not, living life forward and only understanding it backwards may just be enough in the long run. For now, the journey lies in TRYING to understand. The process of reaching for that brass ring may just yield more dividends than the brass ring itself.

Would you want to know the halfway point?

Related articles

Halfway (rachaelrossman.com)

Call Me Martian, Call Me Venusian, Just Don’t Call Me Shedless

In 1992 relationship counsellor, John Gray PhD, released his bestseller – Men Are from Mars, Women Are From Venus. According to its publisher, Harper Collins, the book is the all time bestseller in the hardcover non fiction category. Apparently it has sold more than 7 million copies.

I am guessing that most female humans of my vintage have read the book. For those of you who are smart younger things or who have been living under a rock, the book attempts to explain the differences in psyche between males and females and how each gender understands the behaviours and mores of its own species, but not that of the other. When the book was released it made quite a splash and his since spawned many sequels, a board game and even nutritional products under the name of Venus Calm and Mars Revive. The choice of these names is interesting… it seems that women are really stressed and men just comatose. That probably works for most households.

But back to the book! I will admit to buying and reading a copy and that my motive for doing was slightly less than pure. My thinking was that the book would surly confirm the superiority and correctness of the Venusian way of thinking whilst providing a humorously entertaining rationale for the inferiority of the Martian thought patterns.  Namely, a snickerworthy book.

Within these pages I fully expected to identify the Italian Stallion’s traits as well as my own and see us emerge. I was not disappointed, emerge we did. By chapter four, I was convinced I was clearly Martian!  By chapter five, I concluded that the Italian Stallion had done a tour of duty on Venus, although I will never publicly admit to thinking he was part Venusian for emasculation is never pretty.  With each turn of the page, my smug Venusian superiority began to ebb. The truth is that of course each individual possess both Martian and Venusian traits.

Chapter three of the book is particularly enlightening. It deals with the concept of the “man cave”, that safe place where Martians retreat to deal with stress. Martians tend to turn inwards to deal and need space and analysis to work through problems. Even if they can’t solve their big problem, they will start by solving any problem. When they are in their cave, men tend to become preoccupied and less responsive. Venusians on the other hand want to talk about and share their problems. They are not necessarily looking for solutions, but the act of sharing itself lightens the burden.

Initially I’m Martian when it comes to problems and then I briefly turn Venusian. I need my cave or what I have now termed my “she shed” as a safe harbour to work stuff out and THEN and only THEN will I bounce my proposed solution or thinking off others. The other is usually a Venusian, but it depends on the nature of the issue. The ultimate solution is usually a meld of the “she shed” product and the post shed Venusian discussion.

The Italian Stallion’s man cave is his workshop. A truly male place where tools snuggle comfortably against each other reveling in the smell of paint and solvent. I have no similar space. I am shedless.

No matter where I lay my hat, some or other of my male folk follow. They are Martians, they are supposed to understand this! It reminds me of when the boys were toddlers, that wonderful stage when they follow you everywhere and I mean EVERYWHERE. There is no space where I can just do my own thing and leave clutter, open books, highlighters, sticky notes or whatever and no-one touches them or passes comment. I like my clutter and mess, it’s very comforting and yes folks, there is a system… one only I and perhaps a few like-minded  Venusians understand, but a system nevertheless.

So, I am now searching for my she shed. Some of you no doubt will think that it won’t be long before the kids move out and I will then have too much space and quiet. Well yes… but that doesn’t negate my immediate need. Besides it’s now winter and it’s too cold to ruminate outside for long and who wants to ruminate outdoors at night anyway?

Every good modern search starts on the Internet. How about these sheds for starters?

Fear not dear readers, I will keep you updated on my search for the perfect she shed, a place to inspire my proposed series of blog posts entitled “Tales From the She Shed”. That series where I haven’t yet thought about content. In the meantime, let me reassure you with each contraction and labour pain that I’m really not a hairy dude biker with a big Adam’s apple, but rather I embrace my Martian side.

And I have the stretch marks to prove it!

Do you have a space that is all your own? If so let us know how it feels and what it looks like.

Let’s Phlog Monday: Finding That Path Through The Forest And The Trees….

… and the rocks and escarpment.

Firstly, let me apologise for my absence from blogdom all week. It’s been one of those introspective weeks where I have been trying to make sense of it all. Much needed and no doubt some of this introspection will find its way here at some point. Raising that Curtain just a little bit higher requires a fair bit of energy and my writing has been impacted. Coupled with that is trying to ascertain where my true blog voice lies. This week has been about searching for answers or at least trying to narrow the breadth of questions.

As a part of that process I went for a trek out bush. Nature has a way of providing cues and motivation and on this occasion it didn’t disappoint. One of my bluggies (blog buddies), dearanonymousfriend, through her comments inspired me to take photos of some of our non-coastal landscapes. I hope you find the results as pleasing as the coastal photos.

The photos are from an area called the Blue Mountains which is famous for its escarpment and a rock formation called the Three Sisters, for obvious reasons. On the day we descended the Giant Stairway through the Three Sisters to the floor of the Jamison Valley below.  The Stairway is carved into the cliff face and comprises 911 stairs with a drop of almost 300 metres. The expression “jelly legs” was very much at the fore of our minds. Once at the bottom we walked the Federal Pass along the base of the escarpment, a walk of about 3.1 km. The walk is not unduly difficult but does require a fair degree of fitness and I absolutely recommend it if you are thinking of playing tourist here.

Apart from breathing in the fresh mountain air and scouting photo ops, I was happy to be travelling along a discernible path. One that left no doubts about the direction of travel, one that ended at a meaningful destination, in this case, the Scenic Railway. Whilst there were side paths, they were less developed and the destination a little more uncertain. How many of us are searching for that path to that meaningful destination? I don’t need a path that is necessary well-travelled, I am happy to be a pioneer to an extent. But I am one that needs to understand the destination if only in an oblique sense and to be able to see a few steps in front of me.

One thing the trek taught me is that to be able to discover that next path, I need to be mindful of both the forest and the trees. The bigger picture and each individual element is equally as important and needs to be savoured. It also taught me that symbiosis is often necessary to maximise opportunities.

Symbiosis

Journey

Growth

Destination

Three Sisters

 Do you like to pioneer or go down a path more travelled?

Let’s Phlog Monday: Coastal Textures

Patterns are intriguing. Particularly natural ones.

They depict a wonderful combination of logic and creativity. A meeting of the left and right brains. For the longest time, my creative side has been drowned out by logic, reasoning, problem solving, facts, principles, process and tasks. If you are one of the lucky ones that have married your logical and creative sides, then I applaud you. This is still very much a work in progress for me.

I am often awed by the surrounding coastal landscape and the patterns found within it. Even when there are obvious natural flaws, the patterning is often sublime and impossible to humanly replicate. Elements combining together to construct three dimensional wizardry. The energy used to create these patterns is often immense, but Mother Nature takes it all in stride. Patterning is the instrument of the universe.

Here are some coastal patterns I have recently encountered. I hope you can feel the texture of the images in these photos. There’s a beauty in patterned repetition. Rough and smooth, creativity and logic…… balance.

Smooth

Weather

Erode

Design 

Create 

Do you tend to be more creative or logical? 

DIY And The Art of Fire Protection – Part 2

I’m loving all of your alarm mishap/relationship comments on Part 1 of this story. Makes me feel less alone in my alarm angst. And I’m definitely going to have to try the tea towel waving technique, something about that appeals to my inner playful child. Towel flinging brings back so many happy memories.

The star of today’s post is not a fire alarm, but a fire extinguisher. The fire extinguisher appearing below to be precise.

Weekends are always DIY dangerous in this neck of the woods. They represent 48 hours in which to carry out amazing feats of DIY daring, innumerable trips to the hardware store and little DIY surprises. Good weekends end without trips to the hospital. All kidding aside, I truly admire the Italian Stallion’s DIY skill and stamina, not to mention his hardware collection. Remember when hardware meant tools, nails and fixy bits rather than computer parts? I googled hardware the other day to try to find some images of hammers, saws and fixy bits but was inundated with pictures of hard drives, chips and wires. I wonder what hardware will mean to my children.

My recent gift to the Italian Stallion

Last weekend was a DIY weekend for the Stallion. There were at least two trips to the hardware store that I know about. I suspect there were more stealthy ones. But who can blame the Italian Stallion? Who wouldn’t want a trip to nirvana where a standing ovation awaits for being the most frequent buyer? I have no doubt that employees seek out the Italian Stallion to ask him where the 2 inch singing Phillips head screw drivers and matching colour coordinated socket head screws are located. Whilst this is a rather feminine take on the world of hardware – colour and song choice would never enter into the male equation – I’m sure you get the gist. Which brings me to the following Curtain Raising thought:

How many different hammers does one guy need?

Answer: More than girls have types of sandals.

Have we the women, finally stumbled on the male equivalent of “I don’t have a thing to wear”? “Honey, I don’t have a thing with which to repair?

I could go on like this for hours, but there’s the small matter of the fire extinguisher.

So the weekend is drawing to a close, Sunday evening and dinner is cooking and I’m at the sink, washing up. Thankfully, the smoke alarm is silent and the Italian Stallion still has all his fingers. It’s been a good couple of days. Arms elbow deep in suds, the Italian Stallion rocks up and the following conversation ensues:

IS: “I’ve been to the hardware store today.”

CR: “Yeah? Wesfarmers share price will surly spike tomorrow.”

IS: “I bought a fire extinguisher for the workshop.”

CR: “Great”

IS: “I bought two, actually. One for the kitchen as well.”

CR: “One for the kitchen?”

IS: “Sure, where would you like me to install it?”

CR: [This is totally left field and I fumble the ball] “I dunno.”

IS: “How about here?” – IS takes the fire extinguisher and holds it next to the most prominent position in the kitchen.

CR: [Now totally drop the ball] “Really? It’s so industrial looking.”

The sound of a burst bubble fills the air. In my defence though, I felt totally ambushed. I like surprises as much as the next person, but this was totally unexpected and besides I had my hands in the sink! Further, the vision for my normal residential kitchen does not include industrial fittings.  This is only the first step and I fear one that could set a dangerous precedent. What happens if the Stallion suddenly rocks up with 100 metres of industrial grey carpet or industrial shelving? I feel I am at the flood gates of hardware hell, it is starting to invade my living space.

No doubt, the extinguisher will go up…somewhere … eventually. And now I’m on guard for anything resembling industrial/office wear. A Blackberry is one thing. A fire extinguisher is quite another. Even with my lack of interior decorating talent I know that “Office – circa early 90’s” is not the way to go.

In the meantime, the only real mode of fire protection I want to embrace is this:

Has any person you live with ever brought home anything that was totally unexpected?

DIY And The Art Of Fire Protection – Part 1

I have had a week filled with fire protection devices. Before anyone panics, there’s been no smoke and certainly no fire. No flames, no ashes, no cinders. I am happy to report that the house and all its inhabitants are still intact.

These encounters are largely due to the Italian Stallion and his passion for DIY. Actually, having a hubby who not only has the passion, but the skills to match is extremely beneficial, although the downside is the potential to be woken up at 7am on a weekend morning to the sound of a working drill emanating from the garage below the bedroom. Passion like this cannot be confined to normal waking hours.

Photo: freedigitalphotos.net

I really only came into the benefit of a DIY household in my marriage. My late father’s DIY skills extended to dialling the phone number of the nearest handyman and to negotiating payment and price. Dad did a fair job although he was the consummate delegator to my mother who then had to deal with the handyman to get the job done. My working mother was wise, she always knew that when Dad said “we need to get the pipe fixed” that translated to “you, my darling wife, need to be here to oversee the fixing of the pipe, wait around in the hope that the handy man shows up and inspect and approve the work with the skill of a seasoned building inspector and arrange payment”.

Anyway, back to the present…

Some years ago, my State introduced the requirement for every residence to install smoke alarms within a certain distance of each bedroom.  This meant we had to install a smoke alarm somewhere near the upstairs bedrooms. The base of the stairwell to our second story is near the kitchen and the Italian Stallion used his wonderful DIY skills to promptly install the alarm in the ceiling above the said stairwell base on the ground floor.  However, this smoke alarm is a bit of a SNAD – sensitive new age device and starts shreeking with monotonous regularity. The fact that it does this at the times I am preparing dinner is purely coincidental.

For whatever reason, the SNAD has decided it cannot cohabit with the oven. The oven has been cleaned to within an inch of its element, but still the SNAD has issues. Manually turning off the SNAD would be an easy task – a push of the button – if only I was an Amazonian. I am not short, in fact I can push five foot, nine/ten inches in heels. However, the ceiling is about six and a half feet off the ground above the stairwell. Even balancing on the third step, I am an inch or two short and I can’t even use a chair to stand on given the stairs. I have therefore resorted to using implements to silence the SNAD. This week it was the feather duster jab… it worked, but I came away with an extra plastic bit in my hand. I have also used a shoe, a rolling-pin, a broom and a loaf of bread. I’m quite partial to the shoe technique although this tends to leave unwanted scuff marks in the absence of Lionel Richie having danced on my ceiling.

Things are only marginally better when either my eldest or the Italian Stallion is at home. They of the required footage and inchage also suffer from selective deafness. When the SNAD finally penetrates either brain because it has reached some arbitrary unbearable level, out storms one or the other and silences the SNAD usually with a fist and a grunt for good measure. The result is silence and a rather sad smoke detector with cover, battery and wires left hanging.

We live in a world where we have armed ourselves with protection and reminders – fire alarms, car alarms, house alarms, merchandise theft protection devices, alarm clocks and phones  – and spend our life ignoring them. Most shop assistants don’t even pause when they hear the noise, they have experienced so many false alarms. Office workers spend their lives dodging fire drills and nobody tends to move when a fire alarm activates. Car alarms are more often used to find lost vehicles after a happy night out.

The next step for us is to send the oven and SNAD off to couples therapy. Either that or it’s take away every night. Now, there’s an idea…

Are there any noises that really annoy you? Do you have your alarms well trained?