Today is Talk Like A Pirate Day. Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day. Today's blog will be in pirate speak, in honour of Talk Like A Pirate Day.

Arrr, so aft t' last week. After th' Dingo tide came th' buildin' o' th' vegie bunks tide, then th' garden bunk edgin' an' th' sand pit deepenin'. Unfortunately, Wee Man has nay been bunkin' well at all so DW an' I ben takin' 't in turns t' look after th' lad's at night. On accoun' o' I had spent th' tide ridin' around on th' aft o' th' Dingo (which be actually hard work - 'tis so!) DW tookst an extra night, so I would be refreshed when th' timber be delivered th' followin' mornin'. I be refreshed like a fish lyin' on its side in a desert, gaspin' fer water an' one solitary drop o' rain hits 't on th' side o' th' face, one centimeter from its bung hole.

But me inability t' focus properly or form sentences has nerestopped me from usin' power tools so ou' I sailed' t' build some vegie bunks. DW be able t' help fer a while until Princess an' Wee Man drew th' lass' away in a cunnin' ploy consistin' o' incessant naggin' fer food an' a smelly nappy that e'en bein' outdoors couldna mask. I could tell she be reluctant t' leave me on me own but I assured th' lass' that very wee could possibly go wrong. Anyway, what could go wrong, did go wrong. Th' REALLY hard clay be also peppered wi' lumps o' rock an' a couple o' me stakes didna go in straight, which has resulted in a couple o' th' bunks bein' a wee irregular. An' thar be a couple o' gaps. An' some gaffer tape. But otherwise 't came up really adequate.

Then we had a eyeball th' sand pit I be buildin' fer Princess an' Wee Man. We had already agreed that Wee Man no' be allowed t' use th' new sandpit until he has stopped eatin' sand on accoun' o' 't be pretty expensive an' we still had some o' th' bilge watery old stuff about. So Princess be jus' about beside herself when I started clearin' th' section fer th' lass' sandpit. Now I had broken up th' clay wi' th' Dingo but DW decided th' sand pit would be too shallow so I had t' go down another 10 t' 15 centimeters. Fortunately 'tis only a 2m x 2m area. I got me mattock an' I attacked 't like a crazy swabbie durin' a full moon. 't tookst me about four hours. Me whole body be sore an' shakin' on accoun' o', as I mentioned last high tide', me mattock`s shiny yellow plastic handle dasn't absorb ANY o' th' shock.

Then came time t' get th' soil. Me older laddie, whom I shall call Shteve, an avid landscaper, came o'er t' help. We borrowed a trailer from th' husband o' a matey o' DW`s whose buxom beauty supports his Media Centre efforts. We bought a lot o' dirt. 't seemed a lot t' pay fer dirt. I dasn't really like payin' fer dirt. 't jus' dasn't seem starboard somehow. Anyway, th' "organic compound" we bought be arr jus' about th' best dirt ye can get an' so we got a lot. On accoun' o' we can only get into our aftyard via th' garage, we had t' use th' trailer rather than a single truck load. 't did make 't easier t' spread th' dirt ou' but 't be a nightmare tryin' t' aft th' trailer through. I be nay big wi' th' whole drivin' o' th' car fore let alone aftward an' so puttin' a trailer full o' very expensive dirt on th' aft wasn`t th' best idee. DW an' Shteve stood on either side o' th' door through which th' trailer be supposed t' go an' laughed an' laughed an' laughed. I`d be havin' laughed too if I wasn`t sweatin' like a pig, cranin' me neck t' be seein' behind an' really, really angry. After about ten attempts an' several refusals from DW an' Shteve t' be havin' a go, I finally got th' trailer into th' garage aftwards. DW kindly suggested we jus' push 't th' rest o' th' way an' I agreed. I had t' do that nine times. Th' final time I jus' drove th' car straight into th' aftyard an' used a technique I learned from an Austin Powers movie t' turn around again.

Durin' this whole adventure, Princess be playin' in th' increasin' piles o' expensive dirt, gettin' more expensive herself by th' minute. At one point I be about t' tell th' lass' nay t' play in th' dirt wi' th' lass' socks on, when I realised she wasn`t wearin' any socks. In fact, I be nay e'en sure if she be wearin' britches. When she finally got into th' bath that night, 't be like puttin' a bucket full o' black grog into clear hot water.

Anyway, more next high tide'.

Ciao!

Thought for the Day: Damn! My new leaf looks the same on the other side.