Things NOT to experience before you die.

Some of you faithful readers may remember when I attempted to amputate my little finger with a spool of thread and a Kirby vacuum cleaner. This was no. 1 in my list of things not to experience before you die.

I am pleased to add no. 2 to the list.

It was a lovely day today. The sun was shiny in a chilly and vaguely wintry sort of way, the birds were tweeting, and I fancied a bit of fresh air as this is one the first really *lovely* weekend days we've had this winter. So out I went, with the idea of tidying up odds and ends of rubbish left around the garden, sorting out more of the dropped leaves, and maybe mowing a bit of grass to at least bring it down to a level where we don't discover whole tribes of indigenous people in the spring when we do the first real cut.

Ellie came out with me, and was dotting about, playing football and admiring the birds (a bit like a Millwall supporter, I suppose).

"PEEEEE-EUW!!!" she commented. She was right. Something stunk.

I investigated. The stench came from a red plastic bucket, filled with black, brackish water. Seeing how I'd cleared the veggie patch a week or so ago, I thought I'd dig a little trench and empty this stagnant water into it. I dug quite a deep pit and started to tip the really BAD smelling bucket into it. As the water cleared The Object, the stench got really, REALLY bad. Bad enough that Ellie actually ran away *screaming* and my stomach was heaving in sympathy. It was the buckskin that Tim had fully intended to tan. It had been there for... well... months. I carried on tipping, thinking that at least I could bury the whole damn thing and be done with it. I hadn't appreciated that Tim had weighed down the skin by folding a brick in the folds of it.

Picture the scene. A pit in damp earth, filled with water and stinking, rotten buckskin. A brick falls into it from quite a height (believe me, with the smell, I was standing as far away and pouring as humanly possible.). Can we say "backwash"? Can we say "huge and repulsive tsunami of disgustingly putrid water and festering animal remnants?" Well, possibly not if you're Ellie, but I certainly can. Although at the time I got soaked head to toe in this vile concoction I settled on a very heartfelt, "AAAAAUUHGHGHGHGH!!!!!!". Oh yes, dear reader, I screamed. I don't deal with putrescence very well.

I *ran* into the house, yelling, "Jared, you're in charge! Something BAD just happened to me!!!" and managed to strip off and get into the shower in about 20 seconds. There has been some discussion on the Chlorofilk community about saving water from the time that one warms up the shower before stepping under. Well, I can tell you that I wasn't waiting for that shower to warm up. Yes, it was freezing cold. No, I didn't care. Had Tim been around to have doused me outside with the tap in 4 degree C. temperatures, I'd have gone for that, and stripped whilst he did it. And considered myself lucky.

I am pleased to inform you that Lush "Flying Fox" shower gel (thankyou again Rika!) is jolly efficient at getting the smell of putrescent deer out of your skin and hair.

So: Things *not* to do before you die:

1. Amputate your little finger with a reel of sewing thread and a Kirby Vacuum cleaner
2. Douse yourself in the juices of a putrescent deerskin which has been allowed to fester for 5 months or so.

More to follow as I find them.

Remember - I do these things so you don't have to...