Little Dutch boy

So I get home from work and Mrs Gnomepants is there flapping. “Wazup” sez I
“Flud”sez her
“Flud wer” sez I
“Flud there” sez her
I go into the kitchen (I live in Yorkshire, we enter houses here through the BACK door) and notice the wall under the electric meter is sodden. “O Noes” sez I “Best turn electric off”
On entering the bathroom (which is above the kitchen) I notice the carpet has been lifted and that the floorboards are sodden too. A tiny trickle of water issuing from a pipe which was connected to a radiator only 24hrs previous. So grabbing my spanner and using all the brute force I can muster (which isn’t very much because I am a bit weedy despite appearances) I try to tighten the nut from where the leak issues


It just spins round and round. I tighten it as best I can. Water is still weeweeing out of the pipe. An emergency plumber is called and the soonest they can get there is 2 hours. In two hours my house could be under water. So lifting the floorboards I assess the situation. Somehow I need to capture the water before it goes into the floor…..Then GCSE Physics kicked into gear! Capillary attraction!

Using a careful system of well angled weighted string and baking trays I create a system that requires the minimal effort to bail out.

Note the string going to the left of the picture. The drip travels down the string and into the baking tray.

Looking downward here. Note the careful system of trays used to collect drips during the emptying of the trays.

After further consideration a deeper container was located. Note the ingenious double line of string. This helps capture twice as much water and delivers it to the larger container.

The plumber arrived.

He took the piss out of my ingenuity.


He stopped the leak though.

Nice man.


Had you been in my kitchen just 20 minutes ago you may have witnessed me slicing parsnips. I hate the bloody things. It’s for the wife.

Contrary to widely held belief I am not trying to poison her (though allowing her to ingest parsnip is the equivalent of her allowing me to smoke cigarettes) she requested parsnip to accompany the rather splendid roast (free range locally sourced) chicken that is brewing in the oven.

In other news, I still lack a plumber. We have a lovely new bathroom suite in Gnomepants Manor, only it’s in the dining room rather than the bathroom. This is inconvenient as most people prefer to eat their dinner away from people taking a dump or having a wank in the shower. But until a plumber is found we will have a bathroom suite in the dining room. Like the pikeys we are.

Furthermore, I have managed, despite constant interruption by LJ and other distractions to complete 1.25 of my 5 outstanding assignments. This makes me feel good.

Tomorrow, Doncaster calls.


Last night I dreamt I got the wrong bus home. I ended up going to Huddersfield over the mountains. Of course it had snowed and the road ended up being closed. Thankfully someone on the bus had a mobile phone ringtone that sounded like my alarm clock so my journey was cut short.

Behold! My amarylli.



Saturday brought with it soggy but bright sunshine. The previous night’s rain all but an evaporating memory. So I took it upon myself to finish repairing a job I started in March. The ornamental wood fascia on the garage. Having successfully painted the replacement wood some months previous, I removed the existing old and well rotten planks. This was easier than I thought. Further examination revealed I had the issue of four well rusted iron bolts holding the wood onto the prefabricated concrete.

At this I nipped out to Deacon’s Superdec (a kind of poor mans Rapid Hardware/B&Q) and managed to locate 4 similar if not exact bolts with nuts, a set of spanners and a packet of metal cutting hacksaw blades. On my return I set to sawing the bolts off the concrete. I managed to get two of the buggers off before G-homo-lupus offered me the use of his angle grinder. The grinder did the same job as the junior hacksaw in a matter of seconds rather than minutes.

I finished off scraping the age old flakey paint off the prefabricated concrete and then opened the bottle of fungicidal wash required to prepare the surface for painting. After application I read the back of the bottle. And this was the writing that was writ:-


The word “fuck” was used.

Mr P from up the lane said “Looks like rain tomorrow”

The word “fuck” was used again.

The tin of external paint said:-


The word “fuck” was used for the fourth time that day.

So I gave up and went indoors.


I’ve been tinkering with Muckybadgers. CMS is such a drag! Still after about a week of picking and poking I’ve kind of got it sussed now I think.

This weekend promises to be quite an active one. Nostell Priory has a steam rally this weekend so I might don my harris tweed cloth cap and take the whippet along to have a gawp at some of the beasts of steam that will be there. Providing I can forage for the £12 entry fee down the back of the couch that is.

Saturday will also see a Farmers Market in Ossett which is just outside Wakefield on the other side of the M1. The wife, her sister, Meredith and I will no doubt be going along to sample the delights of Yorkshire’s finest local foods.

Sunday, we are heading down the A1 to Retford or most specifically, Blyth. There to reunite with Emma (formerly Emma-in-Brighton), Sarah (formerly Sarah-in-Brighton) and Philip (formerly Philip-in-Brighton) who are the Wife’s old university house mates.

Monday and Tuesday are as yet unoccupied….wooo 4 days off work!

Nancy Kominsky

My hands are still black with paint. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but still I look like I have some weird black spot disease.

On Sunday I painted the final bits of the replacement wood for the garage. I then turned my hand to painting gate posts. I even affixed a sign that said



Then in a weird bit of DIY Yin Yang I attempted to strip one of our lovely panelled doors. First I used a heat gun and a scraper. After much wood scorching and hallucinations brought on by pre-1960’s paint fumes (Who knew that little pixies lived in our barbecue? And why didn’t anyone tell me about the giraffe in the clematis?), half an hour and only a 7ft by 3inch strip of cleared door later I decided that much that I liked the feeling of levitating 10ft off the ground, it probably wasn’t doing my lungs any good.

So I switched.

To Nitromors Paint stripper. Just add man.

Thing is, stripping a door with chemicals doesn’t really do the plants much good and, Ok it gets rid of most of the paint, but some of the paint was industrial strength gloss that required about 540 coats of paint stripper.

4hrs and a tin of Nitromors later I’d managed to strip one side of the door.

I then made the unilateral decision that the doors would be taken away by a professional company and dipped.

Job done.

Except it’s not.

It’s just sitting there, in the hallway waiting for either myself or Mrs Gnomepants to get a company round to do the sodding job.

Other jobs requiring tasking include:

  • Finishing decorating and carpeting the front room
  • Digging out the lane and building a retaining wall
  • Working out how to fix new wood to rotten wood without making a pre-war garage collapse
  • Plumbing in a washing machine to a place where there exists no water
  • Preparing the spare room as an office for Mrs Gnomepants
  • Having Parents round bank holiday weekend


Peter Cushing

Some pictures for you today.

This yellow stuff (rapeseed) seems to be everywhere in England (well in the parts I’ve been in the last 2 weeks at least) this year. It fucking stinks.

Looks pretty seeing farm buildings in a sea of yellow flower but it doesn’t half stink.

I suspect there is going to be a rise in the popularity of Biodiesel in the next few years. Or perhaps we are preparing for a national emergency.

And this is our new fireplace. The room in in the middle of being decorated at the moment. We dont always have a scruffy mass of sofas in our room.


I have a sore thumb

I watched my mum and dad arrive yesterday on the Gate Cam (offline at the moment). It was lovely to see them on my return home. My mum was a bit upset that the house was spotless and she couldnt do any cleaning as such though she did have a go (my mum loves tidying and cleaning. She’ll moan about untidiness and uncleanliness but if everything is spotless she’ll figet and moan that she can’t do any tidying).