I can see my house from here!

Google Earth. What a teriffic bit of software.

You see a map of the planet that you can fully explore with the exception of some countryish bits which are just grass and bits of sea. Oh and a few countries that don't really interest me.

So I have the entire planet at my fingertips. I can go anywhere in a few seconds, and view 3D-models of satellite imagery complete with map locations. So what do I do?

I find my parents' house, and see which cars are on the driveway. Mine and my mum's! Woo!

I can now safely close the program knowing that I have completed what I set out to do. Waste some time in front of what should be revolutionary software.

A smooth spider eviction

After discovering Clive the spider on Saturday morning, a smooth and clean eviction was carried out with the help of a single HB pencil.

Clive is roughly two and a half inches in diameter, and was sat in the top corner of my office.

I put a pencil underneath Clive until it touched his body. He waved his arms about a little bit in a "stoppit or I'll do something mean" sort of way, until eventually his legs lifted off of the wall and if he didn't cling to the pencil for dear life, he'd have been in free-fall. He held onto the pencil as though it were the edge of a cliff until I put him safely on the outside window sill.

He climbed off looking rather sheepish and a bit embarassed at having been conquered quite so easily.

Long-live Clive. Just not in my gaff.

First impressions are important...

On the weekend, I took charge of my Mum's dog, Heidi.

She's a German Shepherd, and misses her Mum very much because she's gone on holiday to Spain for the weekend and left her behind.

So I put her and her luggage into my tiny Ford KA, and we head around the corner (no further than about 600 yards) to my place.

I take her straight in leaving all belongings in the car. The reasoning behind this was to make Heidi comfortable with her surroundings and give her some familiarity with both me and the room before I go to get her things.

She's been breathing heavily, and is clearly nervous as she runs around the room (she's 12 remember) gathering information about the lower tier of the house. She chooses (wisely) not to venture upstairs because she knows as well as I do that getting down will be a hell of a problem.

She goes back into the lounge and surveys the scene whilst slipping around like a maniac on our laminate floor.

She starts to lose her footing.

I start laughing.

Her back legs completely give up, and she starts doing the splits on the floor.

I laugh harder.

She moves slightly to the right, and I notice that she's actually been squatting, and has left a trail of shit along our living room floor.

I stop laughing.

The last laugh was on the German Shepherd.