The mallards are in feisty, prominent mood at Cavey Manor, Meems - they're everywhere now and the little ducklings will no doubt make their appearance soon as well. (There's a big brook that runs through the house grounds - full of trout and even freshwater lobster). I saw a pair of Mandarin ducks yesterday as well, but suspect these were escapees from next door's watermill gardens; they've got black swans and all sorts schlepping around there.

Ducks are amusing creatures; my rotties half heartedly occasionally give chase, but I think they've reached the conclusion it's more hassle than its worth.

There's two ducks that 'live' in a fountain at Canary Wharf. They're have a permanent adorably confused expression.

The only good duck is a crispy one. In pancakes.

You're a horrible man.
(Although to be fair, aromatic crispy duck is undoubtedly filth).

Back in the pre-child days, me and Mrs AE used to eat out at a really nice local Chinese all the time (like, once or twice a week) - by the time we'd finished with the assorted mixed starters and the 1/2 crispy aromatic duck (with that oh so gorgeous hoisin sauce and crispy cucumber and spring onion, bound together in a lovely soft pancake), we were routinely too full to make even the most cursory of efforts to eat the main courses.

Fortunately they were always happy to tray them up for us to take home. (Not surprising really since we were probably covering the rent on the premises all by ourselves.)

These days of course Mrs AE is a veggie, so her duck eating days are over. Fucking deep fried beancurd in salt and chilli pepper. Jesus.

I remember as a kid I was out walking my dad's friend's gun dogs for him. One of them suddenly darted off into the bushes, there was a kefuffle and she came back with a duck and proudly presented me with it. I was mortified.

They once nested on the roof of our office. One of my guys walked down the staircase and their was a duck and 5 chicks hopping down the stairs to get to the dock.

Ducks are awesome. They have a constant smile on their face.

Wry smile:



"Oh Zardoz, you are funny!":



Contented:



Pissing itself:

And in the classic 'lower down the food chain' pose.

Can't see the smile on this one.

I refer you again to "pissing itself" duck. The reason he's so chuffed with himself is because he knows for a fact that the meat you're rolling up in a pancake and stuffing into your gob isn't duck at all.

Er, well done WTB.

There were more people that chairs in the Blood Donor centre today, I've never seen that before. Also, when we made our next appointment people were queuing out of the door.

That makes me feel better about being too pussy to donate myself. Er, yay!

And we've just ordered a Chinese with the last of our money...

I am eating habenero chilli peanuts and thinking of Zardoz.

Ducks are all wearing stylised dog masks.

I'm masturbating furiously and thinking of Zardoz.

What are YOU doing while thinking of Zardoz?

5% pay rise. Whoop!

I'm eating habanero chili peanuts and wanking over pictures of ducks called Zardoz.

Go Ange!

Amazing! Well done

Just today got my "you don't work here anymore, you weren't entitled to it, but we want to give it to you anyway cos you're awesome and sexy" bonus from my last employer. That's paid for the Volvo we just bought.

Been going through some more of my mate Bobs record collection that he's let me absorb (he lives in Tasmania now) tonight and I've found a seam of dirty dirty breakbeat techno.

Beautiful.



Enjoy.

Stadium announcer has tweeted that they're playing "Let It Be" before the game tomorrow.

Avenue Q tonight.

Never seen it but I'd like to

Saw my first butterfly of the year at lunch.

Avenue Q is epic.

That clip is what sold it to Joans and Sam.

Avenue Q is awesome

Got Kov Junior overnight for the first time tomorrow!

Whoop whoop!

Meh, I'd eat a dog, as long as it was cooked nicely. (In fact, a properly cooked real dog would probably be nicer than that 'pseudo-chicken' a lot of takeaways seem to use.)

Wouldn't eat rabbit though, they're too cute to eat.

Two job interviews today.

First interview (financial sector outsourcing firm you won't have heard of) good; already had positive feedback and I have a follow up phone interview booked for Mon. The seniority of the job I'm going for means I need sign off from the head of development, who works in Edinburgh, hence the phone.

Second interview (mobile company you will have heard of) felt brilliant. Don't think I could have said a single thing better than I did. Fingers crossed for that one.

Both of them are a big step up from where I am today, which is going my nut in. When my boss left ages ago, I applied for his job; 11 days later I had a first interview, 22 days after that a second interview. That was 23 days ago and I've heard nothing further. I don't care if it's a no -- letting me dangle is just rude. (Particuarly as I've been doing the job in the mean time.)

I preside over a team of three -- me and two greenhorns with less than a year on the job each -- over 400k lines of Java than handles north of £200m a year in transactions for our clients. Everyone else in our place is a .Net coder. They are super fucked if I go and I no longer care. And by 'they', I mean my employer's clients, the biggest of whom is Zardoz's employer

Naturally, I am encouraging all three firms to enter a blind auction bidding war for my salary!

Good luck Rich. I wish I was in your shoes!

Would you fit in them?

Seriously, that's nice Gaywood!

I'd be back at my doctors if that happened to me. Well done you for thinking it's just rude.

I'd be a hell of a lot less calm if I hadn't been lining up interviews elsewhere in the interim. As the promotion would probably come with a three-month notice period, this delay has played into my hands, and being able to convey my feelings about the disrespect with a resignation letter rather than shouting about it feels pleasingly emphatic.

I Trekkie Monster.

This weather is fab! I do so *love* the Spring

So, out come the motorbikes later today, after their winter-long slumber. Yay!

We have fog!

That'll soon burn off mate, trust me.
Awesome - BBQ and "jugs of filth"¹ in the garden with Mrs Caveman and my girls later, too. You can't beat flames, meat, alcohol and sun amidst all the burgeoning spring flowers and plants, the twittering birds and the smell of the first lawn cut.

¹Either Pimms No.1 with fresh orange, apple, cucumber, mint - or Smirnoff Blue with freshly squeezed orange, or cranberry juice - all with shitloads of crushed ice, served in a huge glass jug. FILTH!

Footnote or not, you’re not getting away from saying something like that without a

Cavey yesterday.

(PIMMS? Do they still even make that? When I worked in a hotel bar old people sometimes bought it.)

The weather here is absolutely gorgeous today, feels like the first day of summer, let alone spring.

Unfortunately AE Jnr is having one of her 'stay at home' days, whereby she refuses point blank to go out and do ANYTHING. Even 'let's walk to the cafe for ice cream and then go to the toy shop' is met with adamant refusal. (She is instead running her 'ballet school' with all her favourite toys.)

As such me and Mrs AE are going to have to take it in turns to go for a walk around the harbour, along the prom and back again. (It's our favourite walk to do together when we get chance.)

The IOM is, truth be told, a bit grim in the winter - but when the weather comes good I don't believe there's anywhere more beautiful.

We're going to take advantage of the fair weather by chucking some stuff in the car, putting the roof down and heading off for a few days. Northwards to Skye maybe, or Harris, wherever the road takes us as they say.

I'm going to Chester today. Three trains.

Meh.
There's no better way of celebrating a warm, fine Spring or Summer day in the garden, than a jug of Pimms lads. It's got nowt to do with "being posh" or whatever, but everything to do with it tasting really nice and (gently) getting the job done. Shit, probably counts as one of your five-a-day too, so it's one up on a tin of Stella...