Also, I guess there are ducks here now, for whatever raisins. They have been following me around and they are kind of jerks. The precise number it takes to tip a cadre of ducks over the line from “charming” into “sinister” is six, by the way.

Their appearance has also elevated the number of bird species milling around this house to Weird-Plague proportions. Their presence is upsetting the pheasants.

I don’t know what the fuck is going on.

When the End Times do come, I’m going to stay here and survive on peas. Or maybe I’ll try to eat that giant hairy thing, whatever it is. I think it’s a form of giant rhubarb that happens to sound like a venereal disease, but then most things do in Latin. (Gunnera.)

A while back a man came to the house with an invitation to join the commune he is creating in preparation for the impending apocalypse. He drew a mind map of the new society he is building. I declined to join (I am not a team player) but I am sharing his survival tips here, so you can’t say you weren’t given fair warning. Good luck out there.

you can basically bring a butterfly back from the dead with honey/sugar solution but then they get rowdy and you have to throw them out, admiral control yourself the crew are watching