Cows that go moo in the night.

So. I've noticed that once again, my posts have gotten all irregular. I think that my inspiration gets worse in the summer.

Here's a little something to tide you over (whoever you may be... I'm not entirely certain the is a definite you, or whether you are just an amorphous blob, made of of a huge amalgamation of the world's population. And wether, which I was going to write earlier is actually a castrated ram. that made me giggle. Sheep using the internet.)

Molly ambled over to the the fence, browsing the grass as she went. She liked it by the fence, the dessert grass tasted more like chocolate and less like sweets over here. Peering over into the next field, where here friend Rachael was having a meal in the main course grass. Lasagna by the looks of it. She took another mouthful of the dark, rich chocolate and stiffened in surprise as her brain processed what she had seen.

'Rachael, but what have you got on your feet?!'

'Hya Molly, do you like em? I got the sheep to order them from e-bay for me. They swear that they'll make my milk better! Mind you, they also said that they would stop stormlight from hurting you. That's silly, stormlight doesn't hit us!'

Molly shook her head slowly, as she thought about it. Rachael always had been an odd one, never quite fitting into the herd, always willing to try new things. It had been Rachael who had made the man-carrier make loud noises and start trundling down the hill, much to the amusement of the herd, because watching the farmer run after it with his arms waving like that... well! Everyone knew that that would spook it more.

'The sheep you say? Hmmm. I wonder if they are trying to pull your udder. You do look silly you know!'

'Naw. Remember when I sat on that fox and stopped Louise's new lamb from being carried off? They said they owed me one.'

'Ah.' Molly chewed the cud, and thought again. 'Well, I guess they aren't to bad, for manhide. I never realised that people butchered farmerkind for their feet. Are they comfy?'

'They're not bad, Moll, Although I don't understand why they have this big hollow bit at the front of their hoof. It is most bizarre. But you're right. It is odd that people butcher farmerkind. I didn't realise they did it. I wonder what happens to the rest of him?'

'Hmm.' Molly thought some more. Confusing things, farmerkind. So confusing that it required fruit flavoured grass. She wondered off deep in thought, flicking her tail at Rachael as she left in absent farewell.

Later that day all thought of Rachael's manhide hoof coverings left Molly's head as their farmer came and herded all the cows into the top field, where, to their surprise, there was a new stormlight attractor. Sniffing the air, Molly noticed that there was rain on the way, and enough to make the chocolate grass field covered when the stream broke it's banks. Hmm.

That night was the heaviest storm that Molly or any of the other herdmembers could remember. the rain came almost horizontal, and the stormlight and the stormnoise came without pause, often hitting the stormlight attractor that stood looming over them.

A particularly bright stormlight filled the air all around them and everything went dark.

When the farmer went to check on his herd the next day after the storm broke, he was shocked to see them all dead under the new electricity pylon he had fought against for so long. All except for one cow who huddled next to the fence closest to him, and for some inexplicable reason, was wearing wellington boots.

Dreams

What do you get when you lose your dreams? Some say reality, others say despair and someone else once told me that to lose your dreams is to face extinction. Either as a race or an individual. Everyone has dreams whether or not they admit it. Where they are now and where they will be in a month, a year, ten years. I know I dream. A lot.

Dreaming is essential to the human race. If we couldn't dream, not only would we not drive forward, but we would also not be able to cope with the real world. It is like the pressure valve that lets us cope with the world when we have to.

Because no-one is truly content. It's true. Even if they think they are there is something, a drive, a dream or a sense of adventure. If they didn't have it they wouldn't bother getting up in the morning, nor looking after themselves.

I believe that without dreams we lose our fight, our drive to improve. To see new things, to talk to new people, to find new ways to look at old things, we'd lose our way forward. We may have dreams but we are inherently lazy. First we forage, then we realised that it is easier to put the plants where we want them, not where they just grow, so we started farming by hand. Then we saw the usefulness in draft animals, and eventually in engines. Ever more efficient, ever easier. Our drive to make things easier for us is what drives us as a race. Our ability to chase dreams is what drives us as individuals.

The two things go hand in hand really. The easier life is the easier it is to dream. The easier it is to dream the easier it is to lose the real world. And lose those who can't dream and fall through the cracks of the world.

Like anything I suppose, dreaming is needed in moderation. Too much water can drown you, and too much heat can burn. Too many dream can make you lose your way and forget the dreams you have made a reality.

Moving Day

Moving house is a strange thing. It means the end of one way and the start of another, a new beginning but also another ending. Now this can be a good thing, or a really bad thing.

I have just moved out of halls, and into my first house. Granted it is a student house, but it is a house nonetheless, and I find I am quite bewitched by it. Even more so that the house has three levels and I have lived anywhere with more than two, if you count a flat has having only one. I have a poky little bedroom, which is fine. In fact, the only problem I can see with it is that I cant reach the rail in my wardrobe. And that if I'm not careful then I'll, (and even more so for those unfortunates taller than 5”6') hit my head when going downstairs into my nice spacious kitchen.

Best of all, Archimedes and Screw aren't illegal any more. And they will never, ever have to go over the bumps in Storthes Hall again.

I'll miss Storthes, Not least the fact that when humanity got too much for me I could disappear into the woods for a few hours, or that fact that I could play at being all grown up without actually having to be all grown up. Now I have to pay bills. No, I'll miss the antics of the other students I saw, and the friends I made, and the security guards. When all you have to do is buy food and pay rent, well, it's like the paddling pool of real life. Yes. This year is going to be a corker all round.

Not only am I having to pay bills, am responsible for my own place, and have gone from having six other people to make sure I don't do anything too blond, to one. I'm also going to be working. Like a normal person. From 9 till 5. For a whole entire year. I start Monday, which, by the time this will have been posted, will have passed, because I'm not getting internet till next Thursday. Yes. Next year, I get to pretend that I'm not a student and pay my bills, like a good little proletariat. Only with substantially less money. But then, students are always meant to be broke.

So. Now I have internets, I can finish it.

This past week has been a lot of fun. I've got a new house and a new housemate. I've had to learn how to live with a new person and how to work in a lab, and not work in a lab practical. I've learnt the different between the experiment not working and the product not working, making the experiment look like it wasn't working. And that hurrying to make sarnies in the morning is a bad idea unless you want the contents of the fridge on top of you and that if you are going to wake someone up, do so with a cuppa for them. They'll forgive anything for that. It is definitely still early days when it comes to the job; I'm looking forward to going in come Saturday.