Saturday, July 28, 2012
Genetics is not always wonderful. I took James to farm dump this morning, where the relics of the last 60 years are lurking in case there is something useful there. The farm has grown broccoli for seed, wheat, cattle, sheep and the owners are commercial divers. They're also - like me - people that battle to throw useful stuff away. We were hunting some treated posts for a woodshed, which took about 10 minutes. The other two hours were spent sticky-beaking through the junk of ages, coming up with increasingly weird ideas of what one might do with XYZ. He was far worse than I was. James is now set on a poly-pipe catamaran. I hope he either sinks within 20 yards of the shore or gets to South America before it does. At least all my crazy ideas are edible or for processing the same.