I think I’ve found out where all the bees are going. They’re hiding inside the light fitting in my cellar. I can hear them buzzing away in there, but they know I suspect something and have lookout bees warning the light fitting hive if I start to look in their direction. Somewhere just beyond my peripheral vision a spotter bee performs one of those intricate little dances, which communicate so much to those of an apian persuasion. The dance of the spotter bee says “Watch out, he’s turning his head towards us.” My gaze fixes on the light fitting, but the bees, having been pre-warned, have already fallen silent.
I discussed this phenomenon with a couple of friends, both of whom tried to fob me off with the same implausible explanation. They suggested that the electrical wiring of the light fitting is generating the noise itself. They allege that the fluctuating electro-magnetic field, generated by the alternating current of the mains electricity, causes tiny mechanical effects in the wiring, hence the noise.
“Aha!” said I “If that’s the case, why does it stop when I look at the light fitting?”
They suggested this is because my ears are on the sides of my head.
“For goodness’ sake” I said, “I suppose you’re suggesting that I’d still hear the noise whilst looking at the light fitting if I had an ear on my forehead?”
“Well, yes.” they replied.
But they’re wrong. It’s the bees.
Since it’s been in the news over the past few days, I decided to look into the Large Hadron Collider (LHC), though not literally of course.
(Free online: Full documentation for the Large Hadron Collider – Posted using ShareThis)
Let’s face it, unless you’re on intimate terms with the Higgs Boson, or just happen to love very big, long, boring corridors with too much plumbing, you may feel a brief perusal of a news article is as close as you need to get. Anyway, as the Neatorama blog observes, the Japanese Heliotron is a much more attractive piece of kit.
However, there are fears in some quarters that the switching on of the LHC will result in the creation of several, if not more, mini black holes, resulting in the destruction of the Earth, Moon and surrounding space. This isn’t news though. The people over at Live Science covered this one a couple of years ago. Apparently the black holes will be so tiny that they’ll gobble themselves up before they even have a chance to add a light seasoning and sprig of parsley to the nearest proton. Unhindered, as I am, by any knowledge of the subject, I found myself speculating on what might be left behind after a black hole has devoured itself; nothing, I presume. Surely nothing is a sort of hole? Given that these non-threatening holes are likely to be produced on a daily basis, possibly up to one a second on busy days, perhaps the Large Hadron Collider should be renamed the Large Hadron Colander?
My thanks to Xorpheous for finding and posting a link to this wonderfully awful LHC rap thing video.
So, it’s Sunday morning and I’m in my dressing gown. Why is it called a ‘dressing gown’? I don’t wear it when I’m getting dressed; I take it off first. Perhaps it’s a contraction of something like ‘addressing gown’.
“I addressed the large and unruly crowd, my un-amplified voice carrying to the back, thanks to the excellent acoustic qualities of the House of Lords’ principal lavatory. My ultimate authority was assured by my choice of blue paisley silk ‘dressing gown. The mass acquiesced and the day was saved.”
Eventually something will hit it. Be ready for that eventuality. A skateboard helmet is light, but surprisingly sturdy. Being of open-face design, it doesn’t get in the way of eating, drinking, licking postage stamps etc. and can be decorated with small herbs; I favour the chive.
I’m sure there are spiders living behind my noticeboard. I can hear them whispering to each other and giggling at each other’s arachnid quips. I wonder if they post their own notices on the back of the board, which they consider to be the front? If so, perhaps they have discussions about the human they suspect lives on the back of their noticeboard, commenting on the fact that they’re sure they can hear the occasional, unmistakable sound of a chive falling from his skateboard helmet.
Well, it had to happen. The stitching has looked dodgy for a while now and this afternoon it finally came loose. I’m not sure I can be bothered to fix it, plus I’ve a feeling I’ve run out of that coloured thread. Still, perhaps it gives it a bit bit of a grungy look, if that’s not too passé.
I’m contemplating going out with a painted on red vest this evening. I have a picture in my mind of me, resplendent in said vest, holding court in a nearby hostelry, not needing to strain the grey cells too much, thanks to the thrall in which my painted on red vest will hold people.