under the artificial sea

There is almost too much to cover about Sherlock's birthday trip, but the aquarium was a bit hit. Have some pictures. Here is a queen angelfish to start with...

And Sherlock's favourite, the sawfish...

Some very nice jellyfish...

And some...things. You'll have to ask Sherlock about these as I can't remember what they are. 

Since we got back, Sherlock has drawn a design for a ceiling aquarium that would contain sawfish, so they could swim above him while he sleeps. He dragged someone up here from security who used to work in demolitions and consulted her about load bearing walls and weight tolerances. She says she thinks it might work.

Obviously, he's not getting a ceiling aquarium, but I am slightly nostalgic for the days when I could tell him the ceiling would probably collapse and he'd just believe me instead of calling in an expert. He's baking her biscuits as a thank you. Ten years from now I imagine he'll rule half of London and live in a house made of glass and fish and glitter.

Oh, and one more thing...

I know just how he feels. 

happy birthday sherlock!

Well...we've had cake, we've had sushi, we've had experimental cake sushi made by Sherlock (cake bits flattened out and rolled around icing). And I had a shock this morning when Sherlock walked into our room, announced that was NINE and that in JUST FOUR YEARS he would be a teenager. Then he said he was old enough to make his own breakfast and walked out again.

L and I stared at each other for a little while, three quarters asleep, and then got up to go after him in case he decided he was old enough to cook bacon and burn the kitchen down. When we got to the kitchen, he told us with great scorn that he was just making toast, god, and said it so exactly the way Carla does that neither of us could help laughing.

Sorry, Sherlock. You are old enough to make toast, certainly, and for many other things, and you seem to be getting more grown up every day. It's a joy to have you in our lives. Happy birthday! 

naked with a belt

Tollund Man, for instance, was found with a belt but no clothes. "It doesn't make sense to be naked and have a belt," Frei pointed out.

True... The rest of the article is here and talks about the possibility that they were tossing foreigners into the bog, not in some sort of religious ritual, but as an alternative to burying them with everyone else. But basically no one actually knows. 

And this is an overview of the allotment... 

We have lots of little green tomatoes. Something keeps taking one bite out of each one and then leaving the rest, but there are so many that surely some will ripen...eventually. We have beans and lettuce and a surprisingly small amount of chard, which got a late start. The enormous Thai purple beans show no sign of flowering yet, let alone doing anything else, but fingers crossed. Sherlock is very excited about them (so am I). 

A woman named Mary has a plot a little way down from ours. She has a silverbell tree (currently about four feet tall, but she says they're meant to grow up to thirty feet and that she'll keep it trimmed and good luck to her with that...), a border of cockle shells, and marigolds all in a row. This led to a discussion of nursery rhymes with Sherlock and the implication from L that Little Boy Blue blowing his horn was about...well, you can guess. And also, bizarrely, to Sherlock wanting to read The Secret Garden, once he was assured it didn't have any talking animals or other such nonsense. Not sure how that one's going to go, since it's also distinctly lacking in pirates, booty, and mysterious corpses. 

foxes and peacocks

 A peacock from the park, photo by Mycroft. And L sent me one of his cockney fox, for anyone who was wondering what it looked like...

This post is going to have very little actual content, just to warn you. Apart from the pictures. Which I didn't even take.

Sherlock is completely manic about being off of school, bouncing off the walls, sometimes literally. Races with the dogs, playing with the kitten until she is worn out (which takes some doing), dissecting a stick of butter (don't ask), inserting cloves into the middles of all the grapes (you can ask, but I have no answers). Mycroft retreated to his room by two this afternoon, and I don't blame him. Of course, maybe it was tactical, since I did then get a short break while Sherlock sat outside his door and demanded to be let in.

S: Let me innnnnnn.

M: No.

S: Whyyyyyyy?

M: Because.

S: Whyyyyyy?

Repeat ad nauseum. If it was on purpose, Mycroft, thank you. I sat down for five minutes. It was lovely.

phobos

Watching L watch football is more entertaining (and occasionally heartbreaking) than actually watching almost any sport.

Sherlock's class are doing ancient Egypt related things again, although no one's getting mummified (that I know of) (possibly one of us if we stand still too long). I called Mycroft earlier and got about two minutes to talk to him before Sherlock stole the phone and told him about Egyptian temple architecture for two hours and also discussed what sort of animal head he would have if he were a god. His top options were jackal, crocodile, and cobra. (He said I ought to have a giraffe one, for which I blame my husband.)

I then got two more minutes of Mycroft before he had to go and do his homework. He says he's fine and, if transformed into a god, would like the head of something with no ears. We'll have him and Anthea and the dogs home again this Saturday, which will be very nice.

In his first two minutes, he told me a story about Phobos going after the rugby ball while some of the younger boys were practising and making off with it...all the way back to Anthea. Bounding across the campus with two teams of twelve year old tearing after him and whooping. He laid it at her feet and sat down, proud and panting and expecting a scratch behind the ears. Sometimes I wonder if Anthea regrets meeting us...

wormsign the likes of which...

The wreath is complete. It has tinsel and glitter and various baubles and bits of old computer circuits on it. He's also made Murray one wrapped with bandages with some fake blood on and a drawing of a skull stapled to it. Murray is delighted and wants to hang it up at work...I feel this may end poorly for him. 

L sent me this: Australia has  nine foot long earthworms. I mean, of course it's Australia. Where else would it be? Picture behind the page break thing in case anyone is horrified by enormous worms. Lots more at the link.

snail races

I keep meaning to collect all the Greg the Florist posts and put them on a page so I don't have to look up the last post every time I try to do more...but that's not going to happen today.

We've just been to the allotment. Do snails hibernate in winter? I think they do. At least, you never see them, so I presume they're doing the snail equivalent of staying home with a hot cup of tea. It must not be cold enough yet, because Sherlock found two of them that were lively enough for a snail race.

You can't count of snails to follow a race track, of course, so he raced them consecutively and measured the distance each one went...in five minutes. Which is more patience for watching a snail crawl than I would've had. Or in fact than I did have. I think I wandered off to pull carrots halfway into the second heat. He wants you to know that the second one won, and that he thinks the viscosity of their mucous may be related to their speed.

We now have carrots (and chard), tomatoes (and chard), and some more small pumpkins (and...chard). The tomatoes are stubborn, hanging on in the greenhouse and ripening while their vines die off. The chard is just unnatural, and I expect to see a news report on it any day now. 

fireworks forever

Sherlock's mum took him out for the day on Saturday, and I was on call. I'm still not quite sure about everything they did because he told me all of it at top speed when my brain was only functioning at half speed, but I understand there were toffee apples, ice cream, dinner out somewhere 'with tablecloths' (not a huge distinguishing feature, but it does let out a few places), and FIREWORKS. He said it in all caps, trust me.

I didn't have nearly as good a time. FME works rarely features ice cream or fireworks, although there was a tablecloth involved at one point, and a small cat with very sharp claws. The cat is fine. The tablecloth and the officer involved, less so. I was out from about eight to eight, and L made me a lovely dinner when he got home, even though he'd been working just as long as I had.

At some point, I took this:

bats and pumpkins

As it turned out, there was no sanctioned dressing up at school today. Sherlock just wanted to be a bat. We told him no. Or, Greg told him no. I was going to say yes because what could it hurt, but it was pointed out that if one boy showed up dressed as a bat and no one else got to have costumes, it might be a tiny bit disruptive. Sometimes I forget things like this. 

He was a pretend (sulky) bat all the way to school nevertheless, but Mrs N said he didn't give her any trouble once he got there. After school, he was an improvised bat, with dark trousers and a large, flappy black hoodie of L's. 

And then...pumpkin carving. Enormous knives, flailing limbs, potential loss of life or eyeballs. Sherlock and L carved, and I started sorting the seeds from the pumpkin guts, which is genuinely one of the most disgusting things I've ever done and I should've worn gloves. It's the way your skin gets afterwards when it starts to dry on you, like it's sucked all the moisture from your fingers and coated them in an impenetrable shield of water repellent so you can't wash it off. 

But in the end, triumph: 

fallen

Sherlock and I found some good trees today. Here's one:

And Mycroft sent me this site where you can help piece back together an engraved Pictish stone: 

http://pictishpuzzle.co.uk/

I might need more time or patience than I actually have to make any progress, but I like the idea.

Today included laundry, shopping, hot chocolate with Sherlock who helped me fold a multitude of socks afterward, and a pumpkin delivery. Reg brought over the one he'd promised Sherlock in person, and Mrs H gave him tea. We were not invited. ;)

While looking for fallen trees, we also saw a set of three pumpkins stacked up like a snowman, with a stick arm holding a pumpkin head with the guts trailing out of it to the ground. Should've got a picture. 

long gone

I can't believe how fast the week went, and I seem to mean that literally, the way I keep checking to make sure it's really Saturday. Apart from the bike place, we didn't do anything that exciting - mostly long wandering walks, cooking, talking, hottubbing (I'm sorry, Mycroft, I know how you feel about verbing nouns...), and keeping clear of the wild fowl watching us ominously from the pond.

Yesterday from picking up Sherlock to bedtime, I don't think he stopped talking once - clearly he had a much more exciting time than we did! No one burned down the city. L's back to work tomorrow, and I'm back to work tomorrow night and Tuesday daytime, so that'll be interesting.

Here's Sherlock's chocolate spider (which really looks like half an egg in a Halloween costume if you ask me...)

not good

I just got Sherlock to bed. It was a struggle tonight, but I expected it to be. He was up at least eight times between his bedtime and now, asking for anything and everything, but mostly asking if we could go to see Mycroft tomorrow.

Most of you will have seen it on L's blog, but there was a possible kidnapping at Mycroft's school today. Mycroft is fine, Anthea is fine, the dogs are fine. They're probably shedding all over L right now. He got the case - went there earlier today and hasn't been able to come home yet. Hopefully he'll get some sleep on Anthea's sofa, at least a few hours.

I hope the boy's all right. His parents must be terrified. 

dr feelgood

Dr Feelgood has been and gone. We went over my files, and he pointed out a few things I could be doing more efficiently, which was helpful. He also left a present for Sherlock, a book called Stiff, which is about all the things that can happen to dead bodies, from organ donation to decomposition to being freeze-dried and turned into compost. He said he thought it sounded like just the thing for him.

He's probably right, but I'll be reading it first to make sure that... You know, I'm not sure what I'm expecting this book to contain that Sherlock wouldn't gleefully read and then discuss at breakfast the next day. But just in case. It's obviously not a children's book.

He also said a police sergeant called him Dr Feelgood the other day. I tried not to laugh too much, if only because we hadn't finished my review yet.

And here is a video of a gelatine cube bouncing off a flat surface.

canal ride

We took a bike ride today (bicycles, not motorbikes). We went to the canal, which was a pretty long ride for Sherlock, maybe the longest he's done. You can tell he's getting bigger and stronger though. He wasn't nearly as exhausted as we had feared/hoped. It was a beautiful day and a beautiful place:

We bought sandwiches and things and eat in the grass by the water. It was strange not to have Mycroft and the dogs with us. I missed him a lot today. He would've had a good time. And, obviously, the dogs would've loved it. They also probably would have jumped in the water and then shaken it off all over us, which I didn't mind missing.

Also, Sherlock would like to remind you, me, L, Mycroft, Mrs Hudson, and the world at large that his birthday is coming up. 

klein

Klein bottles:

From the website:

This is one of a series of glass Klein bottles made by Alan Bennett in 1995 for the Science Museum, London. It consists of three Klein bottles, one inside another. A Klein bottle is a surface which has no edges, no outside or inside and cannot properly be constructed in three dimensions. In the series Alan Bennett made Klein bottles analogous to Mobius strips with odd numbers of twists greater than one.

I've always liked Klein bottles, and I like these particularly.  The more you look at them, the more confusing they get.

We have been swimming. Sherlock worked on his diving for a while and then worked on hurling himself into the water and making as big a splash as possible. He's now decided he wants to go kayaking, preferably on the Thames, but he says the ocean would do. Just like that. 'I suppose the ocean would do.' I said I'd consider it, but definitely not on the Thames. You would think he's heard enough stories from L by now to not want any chance of getting that water in his mouth.

Mycroft's gone to walk the dogs and invited Sherlock along. When last seen, Mycroft had said he knew more of pi than Sherlock did, Sherlock declared he didn't, but even if he did, pi was pointless...and so on. I'm just going to enjoy the peace and quiet for a bit. 

sherlock wishes his skull could do this

It's made out of paper. Doesn't look like it though, does it? Sort of mind bending to watch.

Sherlock took the fox skull that L gave him into school today. I gather it was a big hit, although Mrs N did ask me afterwards if it was all right that he had it. Apparently Sherlock said it was from a crime scene, and she wanted to make sure that he hadn't been making off with evidence. One of the girls liked it a lot and promised to bring her mouse skull to show Sherlock. He seemed pleased and even said later that she might like to see his model human skull with the removable teeth (he miraculously still has all of them).

It's my second shift tonight, starting at seven. I don't know whether to hope for a quiet night or not, but, being Friday, I expect I'll get at least one call if not more. Following some of the advice in the comments (sort of), L and I have a logbook now that we're supposed to write in if we have to go out after Sherlock's asleep. Hopefully it'll make him feel more secure and only make us feel very slightly as if we're out after curfew and likely to get told off by our housemaster. 

cupcakes

L crunched himself into some odd position at work today, as you've probably seen in his comments. As a result, I took his (my) bike home, and Sherlock took him home...via cupcakes and pizza. He's just said they have 12 cupcakes. Probably of all different icing and cake combinations. I think they spent at least half an hour in the shop debating.

I went to work in the allotment for a bit today, watering and pulling weeds and so on. The French beans have grown enormously:

Nothing else was that impressive, so no pictures. I texted the beans to L, and he suggested they were giant mutant city-eating beans. If this were a film, each individual bean in its pod would be an egg and hatch into something face-eating and horrible, but since it's not I think we'll probably just have beans more quickly than I expected. (Note: not more quickly than other people expected; I just had no idea how fast beans grow.) 

My interview is Wednesday. I'm sure I won't know anything definite for some time afterward, but hopefully they won't take too long about it. I'm foolishly (and uselessly) nervous about it. Be glad when it's over. 

eurovision, cake, suits

This is the chocolate and peanut butter monstrosity L and Sherlock made for Jo and Lisa's Eurovision party tonight. Sherlock said I should help, so I stood nearby and ate bits of it when they weren't looking. I think that counts. (It's delicious.) The marshmallow coating is Sherlock's doing. He was sad we only had two colours. 

And we went suit shopping. With Sherlock. I always semi-expect him to be bored by clothes, but no. He has opinions and he wants to share them. I tried on many terrifying shirts today and bought one that I will probably never wear. It's not bad, really; it's just much brighter than I'm used to. I also got a couple that I will wear and a grey suit. 

Learned about this place from someone in the shop, which custom makes suits (and shirts) online. You send them your measurements, and they send you clothes that fit. Sounds like a brilliant idea to me. Except, of course, then I wouldn't be buying them with L, which is certainly a better experience than I've ever had buying them on my own. 

And soon we'll have cake to eat and Eurovision to mock. Hope you're all having a good day too. 

i don't have a good title for this

Yesterday was nice and quiet after the unfortunate excitement of L's bike accident. Quiet anyway - not so nice for him, obviously. The bruises are pretty spectacular, and the muscle strains don't show, but they're just as bad. 

Sherlock asked him about seven times yesterday when he was getting a new bike. We thought it was just excitement at the idea of something new and shiny, but he seemed more worried about it than anything. L talked it over with him while they looked at new ones online. Turns out Sherlock was worried about it because last time L didn't have his bike was when he got kidnapped. So. There was that. We talked to him about it - mostly L talked to him about it - and I hope he feels better now. 

(Lestrade, you know you can borrow mine until you can get a new one, right? Not that I think you're going to put off buying one...)

And the allotment is proceeding:

pitch drop

From this site:

In 1927 Professor Parnell heated a sample of pitch and poured it into a glass funnel with a sealed stem. Three years were allowed for the pitch to settle, and in 1930 the sealed stem was cut. From that date on the pitch has slowly dripped out of the funnel - so slowly that now, 83 years later, the ninth drop is only just forming.

Pitch appears solid at room temperature, the site says, or even brittle. It'll shatter if you hit it with a hammer. But it's actually flowing down...very, very slowly. What it doesn't say on the site is why Parnell decided on pitch for his experiment, which I'd be interested to know. There's a video which shows a year's worth of (non)movement:

And there's a live webcam at the site. The only thing you'll see moving is the clock and the people staring at the pitch to try to see it move. It's sort of fascinating - not watching it, that's pretty boring, but the concept and the fact that it's been going on for so long, and that no one's ever seen it drip. Apparently when it goes, it happens quite quickly, in about a tenth of a second...every ten to twelve years.

I showed this to Sherlock. He was initially interested in the solid-that's-actually-a-visco-elastic-polymer concept and watched the webcam for a few minutes.

Sherlock: What happens when the next drop falls?

Me: What do you mean what happens? It...falls.

Sherlock: But what happens? Does it explode?

Me: No...

Sherlock: Then why is everyone so excited about it? It's already happened eight times.

He may have a point there. I'll probably still check the site every now and then for video of the ninth drop though.