#tractor Victoria

[kakivino]

Ten Minutes by Tractor 2016 Estate Pinot Noir

Enticing bouquet offers strawberry, rose, sous bois and dried leaves. Sanguine and savoury, soy sauce and amaro set the early tone for a palate seemingly fruit-challenged. Quite Valtellinese. Rediscovers fruit vigour in the next pour, with sour plum, blackberry and orange zest joining the red fruit core alongside creamy oak imprint and silky tannins. A smooth operator, and a winner. — ★★★½

Appellation: Mornington Peninsula Region: Victoria, Australia Cépage: 100% Pinot Noir Abv: 13.5% Production: n/a Élevage: 12 months in French oak barriques, 21% new Distributor: n/a

Critic review:

The price of this wine always makes me pause, but I very much like the wine in the glass. Which is the main thing. You can go this now, you can go this later. It’s pretty and slippery-smooth but the line of acidity, overall balance and strictness of the tannin makes you think that it will mature well, at least into the medium term. Undergrowth, sweet spices, noticeable smoky/cedary/creamy oak and a flush go sweet cherry-like flavour. Perhaps some chicory notes too. It’s eager-to-please but it doesn’t lack either presence or length. Drink: 2018-2024 Campbell Mattinson (The Wine Front, 02/2018) 93

[mekachu04]

Read on A03 or below the cut.

At 13, it was quickly becoming clear that Kidd Eustass was going to live up to that wild 'firey' stereotype that seemed to haunt all red-heads. To begin with, at that age most boys growing up tucked away in the county's back country run wild, hellions by their own rights. Freshly turned teens running amok as they start to try and define themselves as their own people for the first time - testing the rules and how far they can push the limits. Shooting road signs, vandalizing old derelict barns, joyriding tractors on the paved roads. Harassing the big bosses' herds, messing with the tourists at the dude ranch, terrorizing the local dogs in the middle of the night. Get a few of them running together, and stuff starts to get stolen or broken or blown up.... and then there's the wild parties in the national forest. Every kid goes though it, and Captain Smoker's biggest headache is when to look away as part of teenage growing pains, and when to start cracking down before someone gets hurt. Kidd Eustass was quickly running down the docket - ticking off each offense like it was his personal to-do list and he wanted to be the first to do them all before he even hit high school.

Smoker had warned Brichtrede Eustass that Kidd was spending too much time with the older boys and needed friends his own age. They were a bad influence on him - the local degenerates. Two of them already dropped out of high school, and Smoker didn't have high hopes that Killer was going anywhere with his life either. Too much weed, too much rock music, too much leather and chains and piercings. Too city. Too.... different. Weird. Too.. close. Heat & Wire were attached at the hip these days, never one without the other. And since Victoria left, Killer was never far behind the two. Kidd had admitted to her that Killer wasn't on the bus home most days and he didn't think he was going to classes much anymore.

Most recently, the boys had the brilliant idea of using a homemade potato gun made out of soup cans to shoot down a wasp nest in Heat's back yard, leading to Killer bringing her boy home covered in stings. Killer had not fared much better, and she'd ordered the two boys inside to wash before covering the both of them in calamine lotion. She'd tried not to smile as the two talked over were they'd gone wrong, and how to built a better potato gun next time - like that had been the problem and not the fact they were using it on a venomous flying insect that lived in a hive of hundreds of other venomous flying insects.

Brichtrede had to put her foot down last year with the boys, Killer specifically. She'd known Wire, Heat & Killer longer than her own current husband by this point, and the boys had been there for Kidd nearly his whole life in ways she couldn't. Despite the age gap between them, Killer had become her son's best friend before Kidd could even read. Last year's debacle had shown her while Killer could be trusted to make sure the any trouble her son got involved in didn't end up on his permanent record, he didn't however understand how serious the danger he and the others had put themselves and her son in was to begin with. There was teenage shenanigans, and then there was behavior that would get someone killed.

She would prefer some parental supervision when the boys got into anything involving fire, but she would take it any day over the night she'd picked Killer up from the Sheriff's office after he'd been caught drinking in the park; with the intention of driving her son home afterward. She'd told him in no uncertain terms that it was his one free pass and he would not be getting another one. Killer had make a clear effort after that to be better behaved with Kidd around. He was still a wild child - his father completely checked out as a parent over a decade ago, and now seem to exist as a task assigner and little more - but she knew there was a boy in there just trying his best with no idea how to do that.

Honestly, between the four of them, Killer probably was the only one with any impulse control, and even then it only seemed to pop up when Kidd was involved. And in turn, her son knew just what buttons to push to override that when he wanted to. Thankfully, he was still young enough Brichtrede wasn't too worried just yet.

She was watching them tinker under the hood of Killer's truck, mulling that over. Kidd seemed to be ready to crawl right in while Killer was either content to watch or was actively egging him on; she wasn't sure from here.

"Babe?" She called to her husband from where she watched from his workshop window. He was tinkering himself, and came over to peek out and watch the two boys.

"What is he up too?" her husband muttered, trying to see what Kidd was messing with.

"Please go make sure whatever 'adjustments' our son is making doesn't get our boys blown up later, hmm?"

[scotianostra]

On May 6th 1870 Sir James Young Simpson, Scottish physician, died.

James Simpson was born on 7 June 1811 in the village of Bathgate,his parents were the village bakers and he was one of 7 children. However his mother died when he was 9 years old. James Simpson attended the parish school then went on to study medecine at The University of Edinburgh and became Professor of Midwifery there. Simpson wanted to cut down the suffering of his patients in childbirth.He often used ether, but disliked it because of its strong smell which made his patients cough.

In 1847, Simpson and two assistants experimented with a new anaesthetic, chloroform, which had none of the side effects of ether. Within a month he had used it successfully on over 50 patients.

Unfortunately, the use of chloroform was not without risks. Some doctors did not know how to use it properly and in 1848, Hannah Green, aged 15, died from an overdose. There was opposition from those who saw chloroform as unnatural and members of the Calvinist Church of Scotland claimed its use was forbidden in the bible.

In 1853 Queen Victoria was successfully anaesthetised during the birth of her eight child. This turned the tide and from then on chloroform became widely accepted. However, its effects sometimes meant that surgeons spent too long on operations and patients could still die from blood loss and infection.

Although his name is always mentioned in books as the developer of anaesthetics, chloroform was only used until around 1900 when it was discovered that it could damage the liver. From then on surgeons returned to using ether. Today, surgeons use a complex mix of drugs administered by a qualified anaesthetist. Simpson’s use of chloroform helped to gain popular support for the use of anaesthetics.

Simpson's most significant contribution to medicine was the introduction of anaesthesia to childbirth, however he also improved the design of obstetric forceps that to this day are known in obstetric circles as "Simpson's Forceps", as well as designing the Air Tractor in 1838. He also became an expert on the history of leprosy in Scotland.

He died at his home in Edinburgh in May 1870 at the age of fifty-eight. A burial spot in Westminster Abbey was offered to his family, but they declined and instead buried him closer to home in Warriston Cemetery, Edinburgh.

[adhd-merlin]

Before they can pick up the stretcher, a figure darts out from behind the carcass of a rusting tractor and lifts a rifle. Wayne steps in front of Gareth. Click! The man in black looks down at the weapon in disbelief as Wayne raises his pistol and shoots him in the head. (...) In a dark corner, Gareth finds Wayne. 'You stepped in front of me. What am I? Your baby? I am your baby, Wayne?' Wayne opens his arms and Gareth steps in. Wayne gripping him round and pushing his lips hard against his forehead. 'You're my brother,' he finally gets out. 'My brother.' While his wild, traitorous heart leaps in his chest.

—Bliss & Blunder, Victoria Gosling

[f0point5]

CultLH loves to pretend that Lewis is driving a literal tractor instead of a car that, even though it's not up to standard, is the 4th fastest... Is very much giving Victoria Beckham claiming she was from a working class family. I want what they are smoking.

To be fair, Toto has always fuelled that narrative. He makes it sound like the drivers are having to flintstone it up the pack.

But I think that’s the perception, when you go from having an unbeatable machine to the midfield.

I’m still low-key hating on the RB20 because it’s not pulling 30 second gaps so I really can’t talk lol.

I do think people are not paying enough attention to how Lewis, who likes to make a big deal of how much development work he’s doing, consistently sets the car up so wrong that he ends up behind George Russell. What are you doing? Just copy his set up and leave it. It won’t be winning you any races but it might make it so you’re not 18th. How is he so bad at set up? His experiments never work. Stop inventing

[mrmeowziii]

Rodney’s DAD, Daryl- the grief-ridden lumberjack stereotype.

Daryl was born on the farm his family still inhabits to this day, one that he would later pass to his son Ryan. The oldest of three children, Daryl was the classic oldest sibling, and a hard worker too. He’d always been the quiet type, though deep down he’s a really sensitive guy. His large stature easily gave him a spot on his high school football team, and he was good enough that he could’ve moved up to college football if he’d wanted to. He ended up deciding to stay near his hometown and marry his high school sweetheart Charlotte O’Connor, while taking over the family farm. (They met when he was a junior and she was a freshman.) They got married when Daryl was 20 and Charlotte was 18. They waited five years before having any children, wanting to sort themselves out before they added more mouths to feed.

The couple were deeply in love with each other, and each new child brought more joy. (And a little stress). At first both of them worked on the farm and had separate jobs, but after Robbie was born Charlotte became a stay-at-home mom. A big reason they kept having kids was because Charlotte really wanted to have a daughter- unfortunately that would never come to fruition. Still, they two of them loved all their children equally. Daryl always found himself worried that his wife would overwork herself, but she would always wave him off. He had a hard job in construction- alongside the farm, she would say. Still, it had never felt right to him. Eight boys was a LOT. And even then, she helped with her fair share of farm work herself…

His younger siblings Benny and Victoria respect him quite a bit, and have been there for him during the hardest times of his life. Both were there when Charlotte gave birth to their first son, Richard. That followed with Ryan, and then they returned the favor by being there for Victoria’s first child Scott, and Benny’s eventual daughter Maybelle (later Crimson). That stayed true when Charlotte passed away in a horrible accident involving a tractor and a (never again used) molasses tank. Daryl was the first to reach her, but he was too late- she was already gone. Her death would scar him so much he would never date again. More often Victoria, but sometimes Benny, would come for a week or two at a time to help watch Daryl’s children, as he still had to work often to support his family. Even more so after his wife’s death. Scott, Albertha, and rarely Maybelle would come along too, though only Albertha really got along with any of Daryl’s kids.

As time passed, more and more responsibility was passed to his son Ryan, who was forced to grow up much too soon for Daryl’s comfort. It pained him to watch his children become adults so early in life, and he was practically helpless to stop it because he just couldn’t stop working. They simply would run out of money if he did. Because of his frequent absence, he missed out on much of his children’s early lives, something he would never forgive himself for. Despite his children all loving and respecting him, he can never shake the guilt of basically abandoning them, especially towards Ryan.

Daryl has positive relations with all of his kids, even the more rough around the edges ones like Robbie, Rowan, and Richard. Though he often wasn’t with them, they all know how much he worked to keep their family afloat. For that, none of them will tolerate any slander of his name.

In the future, Daryl lives on the farm with Ryan and his family, taking care of his grandchildren. Later Richard steps up to parent Ryan’s kids after his death, and Daryl connects with him during that time. They’ve both seen the loss of people very close to them, and they’re able to help each other process the grief they’d been living with for much of their lives. Daryl dies at age 87, proud of his children and loving his grandchildren deeply.

(Daryl’s siblings and their families aren’t getting posts like these, but they’re on my family tree post. Scott gets enough attention from me anyway, lol. Also a sad fact is that Daryl’s mother also dies young, echoed by his wife and son also dying early in their lives. Poor guy.)

[crappymixtape]

something infinite • part four

SOMETHING INFINITE • PART FOUR T H E H O U S E T H A T B U I L T M E

part four of something infinite – a history of you and steve and your families, all the broken pieces you’re both trying to gather up and put back together are more similar than you think // warning, *18+ note: the themes written about in this piece can be triggering – brief mentions of loss of a parent, neglect, unplanned pregnancy, and other heavy content – read with caution please and be gentle with yourselves! | ( 2.3k, angst, enemies to lovers, steve x you, steve x reader – find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here )

JULY 12TH, 1966 • INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA 🎶 motion sickness, victoria canal ( phoebe bridgers cover )

Your aunt Joyce and her sister Ellie – your mom – grew up in Hawkins, Indiana with loving parents, a simple life, but they had everything they needed. They were like built in best friends, sisters sharing a room through high school, keeping secrets and laughter under the sheets even after mom told them to go to sleep. It all felt like it was building to something hopeful, something bigger, until the tractor accident. Your grandfather, Dell Byers, died leaving two daughters and a wife behind and everything felt fractured after that.

Joyce and Ellie’s relationship with their mom stuttered and stalled like a truck on the freeway with a flat and instead of turning to each other they ran. Ran in opposite directions from the sting of grief, from the family photos hanging in the hallway, from what had been a false promise of forever. The whole town tried to come together to support your grandmother, Bea, and her daughters, but sometimes things can’t be fixed. Bea further retreated into herself, making hermit and Byers synonymous, and the girls both coped very differently.

While Joyce stayed in Hawkins with her boyfriend Lonnie, Ellie wanted nothing to do with it and found escape in the city. Indianapolis was full of things she’d never experienced before and getting lost in the sheer size of it was intoxicating, like a drug, and Ellie went in on it full send.

As separate as they seemed though, the two sisters did finally have one thing in common after a few years. Unplanned, and kept, pregnancies. And while they could again have turned into one another, it was like any kind of contact would reignite the grief again. So they raised their children in parallel, Joyce and Lonnie struggling through everything and Ellie taking care of things on her own.

Joyce grasped at straws, wanted to hold onto what her mom and dad tried to build, happy family, white picket fence, little job at the corner store, but it was far from it. Lonnie was shitty and Ellie knew that before she’d left so she went without a man in her life, instead dumping every fibre of her being into her career. She had propelled herself so far forward into success early on that she didn’t want for much, including a partner. Your father was never involved, a lot like Lonnie, but at least it was intentional.

It wasn’t until things with Lonnie got worse that the two sisters spoke again. Joyce cracked first and made a phone call offering vulnerability and love and wanting her sister. Ellie almost hung up, but she heard the sadness in her sister’s voice. Joyce told her she finally left Lonnie, and Ellie couldn’t bring herself to put the receiver back on the hook. They talked regularly after that, and even though Ellie wasn't willing to go back to Hawkins, Joyce did visit Indianapolis a few times with the boys. They were really the only family you knew of.

But growing up without a dad didn’t seem weird to you. Normal was just you and your mom when she was around. When she left for work your grandma, your dad’s mom, would stay with you, but you didn’t feel like you were necessarily missing out on anything until your first sleepover.

Your ex-best friend Samantha York's parents had been picture perfect and despite all the junk food and movies and silly, stupid games you all played all you could do was watch them. The give and take. The shared small smiles.

Love.

After that you didn’t want to sleep over anymore and friends felt like a chore for you. The girls were mean and the boys were fine until you got older and all they wanted was to make out in the backseat of their car. So when your cousins visited it was always a nice reprieve, a moment to show Will and Jonathan something new, take them to the skate park, escape from the bullshit. From the popularity contests. And they genuinely cared and god it felt nice. You knew about Lonnie, the boys didn't mind talking about it, and for a while you thought maybe your aunt Joyce would be just as disconnected and aloof as your mom was, but you were wrong.

Joyce loved Will and Jonathan. With every bit of her heart, you saw it on full display the first time they came to visit, and every time they'd finally leave to go back to Hawkins it felt like they were taking some part of you with them.

It wasn’t as though your mom didn’t love you, she was just so focused on her career. Having a kid along the way was more a speed bump than a detour and you were just along for the ride. Conferences out of town all the time with you staying at your grandma’s, your mom’s bedroom door closed with light slipping under the crack into the wee hours of the morning as she worked. Then when you got older it was leaving a twenty on the counter with a note and a little heart, Be home in a few days, don’t just eat pizza it’s bad for you! Keep the door locked!

You remember catching her as your junior year of high school as she was leaving for another conference, bags packed and ready for the taxi waiting downstairs.

“Mom, can’t you just stay home one weekend? Call out sick? Maybe we could like, go see a movie or something, you know?”

“Oh, honey. Call out sick, that’s no way to work. I’ve been planning for this presentation for months, it’s a huge priority. I can’t.”

“But you’re never home, like, ever. One weekend won’t hurt–”

“One weekend turns into two turns into a month, it’s a slippery slope I can’t afford. The Reynolds across the hall said they’d drive you to your– was it chess thingy? So you don’t have to take the bus. Money’s on the counter. No pizza.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

And she gave you one of her small smiles, the forced kind where you wished she hadn't, and she left without a second thought like she always did.

It’s a huge priority.

But you weren’t.

She didn’t make it to your science fair. She wasn’t around to drop you off at school dances. She missed your chess tournaments.

You were the parent.

Looking after yourself. Making your own decisions and you thought maybe if it had been more like Lonnie maybe it would’ve been better. Maybe if she was meaner or something. Maybe if you had a reason to hate your mom was it would make it easier because anything would be better than the indifference you swam in every single day.

Maybe that’s why you were relieved to see your aunt.

Maybe that’s why you finally felt at home in Hawkins.

Maybe that’s why you don’t want to go back to Indianapolis.

Maybe you’re not so alone.

Maybe you share more than you think with others.

With Steve.

APRIL 24TH, 1966 • HAWKINS, INDIANA 🎶 tears in my eyes, justin caradine

Steven Gary Harrington, a semi-namesake to his father, set up to fall before he could even walk.

His dad had never wanted for anything. Given everything by his father, Gary Senior. See, money could buy you anything. It got Gary Junior good grades. It got him out of trouble at school. It got him into college. It got him his degree. And in turn he got the family law firm on a silver platter when his father died.

He had it all, down to the beautiful and perfect trophy wife on his arm at every party, every event, every gala. And much like it went with your mom – Ellie Byers – Gary didn’t find his son to be a detour, but a box to check and eventual heir to the firm. He was ‘building a legacy for the Harrington name’.

Steve’s mom, Carol, wanted to be supportive and at first she was, staying home with their son when he was little and taking care of the household, but one weekend in August when Steve was seven it all changed.

She was cleaning the cars out like she did every Saturday, a trash can and vacuum on hand to throw away what little trash there was. There was no particular reason why she decided to open the glove box, after all it needed a key, but she had it and when it clicked open a pair of panties fell out. A pair of red, lacy panties that did not belong to her fell out. The first of many indicators that she was not the only woman in Gary Harrington’s life and the first time she raised her voice to him.

Steve had heard the arguing from out in the backyard while he practiced his baseball swing. The kitchen window was open and their voices carried perfectly on the breeze so that he could hear every word.

“Who do they belong to, Gary?? Your secretary? The intern? Who is she?? Some hussy you met at the–”

“I told you! I don’t know, Carol! I don’t know how they got there. I loan the car out to the guys all the time, they could belong to anyone.”

“I found a number, Gary, on a fucking napkin and it’s addressed to you: Gary, call me next time you’re in town. Ringing any bells now?”

Silence.

Steve remembers hearing the front door slam so hard it made the screen on the back patio slider rattle in the frame and when he’d gone back inside he found his mom leaning on the kitchen counter with her back to him.

He’d tried to ask what was wrong, if everything was okay, and when she turned around she put on a big smile for him. Told him it was all okay, they’d just had a little discussion. She made him his favorite dinner and took him for ice cream. Everything is just fine, Stevie. But he knew it wasn’t and after that his mom went with his dad on every single company trip while grandma stayed with Steve until he was old enough to be left alone.

Thirteen. That was old enough to take care of yourself, and grandma got replaced by a twenty on the counter with no note and the keys to the car just in case. When they weren’t out of town, Gary tried to take Steve to company events once he was high school. Tried to get him involved in conversation with firm partners, teach him the language and the finesse it took to be in law, but all Steve wanted was to play baseball. To spend time with his friends. To be a kid. And after a gala at the mayor’s estate the summer before Steve’s sophomore year of high school everything blew up.

Gary introduced Steve to one of the firm’s biggest clients, proudly boasting how his son was going to be applying for law school in a few short years.

“Steven here is the Harrington legacy. A chip off the old block, aren’t you son?”

“Yeah, sure thing, chip off the old block.”

“Of course he’ll attend Cornell or Columbia if he wants, he’ll have his pick obviously, but if he wants to be like his old man he’ll go to Harvard. Best time of my life and man were the girls wild. They’d do anything you wanted once you told them you were in law. Still do! Am I right?”

The laughter then from the group of men lit a fire in Steve’s chest as he sat and listened to them all talk so casually about how many women they’d been with, how they got away with it. How they still did. And all Steve remembers is picking up the laughter with them, but in a disconnected and unhinged kind of way before finally chiming in.

“Totally, yeah cheating on my wife is definitely in the ten year plan. Just like you, dad.”

All sound felt like it’d been sucked out of the room as Gary apologized profusely for his son’s behavior before grabbing him by the collar and dragging him out into the hallway of the estate.

“How dare you. How dare you embarrass me like that in front of a client!”

“Mom is literally in the room with us, and you’re standing there talking about how you–you’re going around banging other women?? And-and how funny it is that you get away with it?”

That was the first, and last, time Gary put hands on Steve. A slap to the cheek that stung and sent a flush across his face and pulled tears from his eyes. Regret flashed across Gary’s face, but he tightened against it by adjusting his tie and running a hand through his hair.

“Enough, Steven. Get back in there.”

“Fuck you, dad.”

And Steve walked the two miles home knowing three things. He didn’t want to go to law school. He didn’t want to take over the Harrington Firm. And he didn’t want anything to do with his dad.

So he poured himself into baseball and swimming and lifeguarding at the pool during the summers. Into Tommy Hagan, Carol Neilsen, and Nicole Dryfus. Into working two jobs to buy a car with his own money. Into literally anything that didn’t involve being home and he made a name for himself – King Steve. No one would tell him what he could or couldn’t do.

And that’s why you confuse him.

Why you’ve turned things on their head.

You challenge him, but not like his dad. Or Tommy. Or Kyle.

You make him stop and think.

What if he changed?

And what if he liked it?

SOMETHING INFINITE SYNOPSIS: hawkins, indiana, 1987 – your mom is out of town for the summer on business and she sends you to live with your aunt joyce and her husband jim in hawkins while she’s gone. joyce works at the library and jim is the town sheriff – the kids, will, jonathan and el slowly warm up to you and it’s after you get in with them that you really start to feel at home, but there’s one person who just annoys you to no end. one person you’d love to just boot off a cliff – steve fucking harrington. ♥️ find the rest of the series and more here and find the series playlist on spotify here.

[theodoraflowerday]

heartstopper s3e5 live episode reaction

LETS FUCKING GO THIS WINTER/OLIVER SPRING/VICTORIA SPRING/NICKTORI STANS

genuinely the episode I'm most excited about

me, currently surrounded by three pillows and two throw pillows: oh wow tori's got a lot of pillows

BIG SISTER TORI

"I hope I get a soul" "I hope I get good mental health" the way I love the spring siblings cannot be described accurately in mere words.

I HOPE I GET A MUM WHO CAN REGULATE HER EMOTIONS OH MY GOD

"I hope I get grandparents who don't comment on my weight" wouldn't that be so fucking awesome charlie (not that my grandparents have ever been like that but other family members have)

I HOPE DAD REMEMBERS TO PROPERLY SEASON THE TURKEY - HE WON'T - YEAH HE WON'T

I LOVE YOU BOTH SO MUUUUUUUUUUUCH

move over jane I will in fact be taking over care duties for these two

honestly jane needs therapy the most out of everybody in that household. and we're talking about the same household where charlie and tori spring live in.

HENRYYYYYYYYY

BRO HE'S SO CUTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I was imagining he'd be smaller tho :(

"by little guy who needs hugs I did mean henry but actually that applies to me as well so" I WAS *ABOUT* TO SAY AKDJFISJFOSJFSOIF

OLIVEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRR

OLIVER SPRING I MISSED YOU SO MUCH I MISS YOU EVERY MINUTE OF EVERY DAY

I know why they couldn't have oliver but GOD I MISSED YOU

HE'S GOT LOADS OF TRACTORS THATS MY BABY BOY

oh my god it's been eight months? that's so cute

"any lovely boys in your life?" "no"

STRAIGHT BOYS ARE THE WORST LAJFLSJFLSJF

good thing michael isn't straight eh eh eh eh eh

"he might not end up being straight" olly is the springs' token straight but he's a good one. like tao.

Jane I SWEAR TO GOD

oh my god

is that David? NOOOOO I THOUGHT WE WERE FREE OF HIM

oh my god I'm gonna rip his balls off I'm gonna drag him down the street with his dick tied to the car I'm gonna rip every single one of his eyelashes

FUCK YOU DAVID

LETS FUCKING GOOOOOOOOOOOO

TEAM LET NICK NELSON SAY FUCK 2K24 JUST HAD ITS BIGGEST WIN YET

nick really needs to tell david to shut the fuck up more often honestly

"stop flirting in the group chat" same isaac

DARCYYYYYYYYYYYYY

DARCY'S GRANDMA SAYING YOU LOOK SO HANDSOME I'M GONNA CRY

oh..... oh is sahar flirting???

TEAM ZAHEANEY

god this is stressing me out so much

TORI

TORI NOOOOOOOOOO

fuckkkkkkk her FACE my BABY GIRL

oh he's so soaked baby :(

parallel gifset thoooooooo

OH THEYRE KISSING okay I see it

ODKFKDJFDKFKDLGKDLGKF

AUNTIE DIANE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

oh he's peaking I see u nick

RIDICULOUSLY ADORABLE

god

I love both of them so much? it's insane?

obsessed with auntie diane also adoring charlie like that's a nelson sisters thing

god sarah should be here I miss her :(

nick and charlie and the twins :( I love them :(

henry as everyone's emotional support pug

fuck you david you know what you did

JAKFJSKFJDKFJDJF I know david's terrified of tori I know he is

AGAIN: henry as everyone's emotional support pug!!!! get tori a dog please for the love of god!!!!!

"I worry about you all the time, you know" of course you do bbg, best sister ever award goes to victoria spring

nicktori teaming up on charlie to support him! charlie spring stans #1

"there's always new years eve" god I hope NYE is good

"I think about it. like all the time--NOT all the time, a respectful amount of time that one thinks about one's girlfriend in that way" JAKFJSKFJDKFJDJF TAO I LOVE YOU

off the top of my head I can't imagine a single show or movie that's handled being a transgender teenager and starting your sex life. let alone in a way that feels so beautiful and respectful. heartstopper is truly just breaking barriers left and right.

tori, charlie and oliver playing mario kart together....... you will rip this scene from my cold dead hands. COLD DEAD HANDS im telling you

HOW'S MY TINY BOYYYYY

oh my god

the way nick said "lucky me" sounded so.........

I know those two are going to salt that car

IMOGEN HUGGING CHARLIEEEEEEEEEE

omg

oh poor tara baby

ZAHEANEYYYYYYY

oh. oh yeah imogen honey no

yeah I see why sahar would be so annoyed like omg

DARCY AND FELIX ARE DISCUSSING PRONOUNS IM GONNA SOB

not rush playing in the background lmfao this party is so homosexual

oh OH OH OHHHHH okay

okay so that WAS the point I thought I was being odd when thinking that song was weirdly sensual

naomi is the sweetest tiniest loveliest babygirl I'm so glad we have her

god they're SO BEAUTIFUL we lucked out so much with kit and joe

oh tori

"the only person I care about is you" oh tori baby girl love of my life

"that won't be true forever" IT WON'T BE!!!!! I CAN ALMOST FEEL MICHAEL

oh my god

"we haven't spoken properly since halloween and now you're here to kiss me at midnight" god I wish I was sahar she's so brave and cool and fuckin awesome

GASp

WHAF

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

IMOGEN IS WHY SAHAR REALIZED SHE WAS BI

WHAT ZJFLSJFLDJFSLFJDLFJDLFISLFIDLFI

G A S p

OH MY GIC

MICJAEL

MICHAEL

OYMGJ

THRUR ENOT MEETING LIKE TJAT

BRO THATS A MEET CUTE

SPROOOOLLLLDDEEEEENNNNNNNNNNNNN

TJR LITTLE SNOWFLAKE

IM NOT

BRO I'M NOT DOING OKAY

TAOELLE

Y'ALL AREN'T HAVING SEX RIGHT AT NEW YEARS DJDKSUFKDJFLDJFLDKF

IMOGEN AND SAHAR???????????

oh my go d

BRO

BRO I'M DYING

NICK AND CHARLIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

fuck

yeah I was so right this is probably gonna be my favorite episode of the season

[mawofthemagnetar]

Language is the story of a people.

Machine translation is a useful thing, don’t get me wrong. It’s really, really handy if you have a chunk of text in one language, and you, for personal reasons, REALLY need to know what the fuck it says right fucking now. And there’s times where that’s handy- awhile back, we needed to reinflate the Japanese-made tires on the tractor. Tires with the instructions written on the side, in Japanese. I pull out my phone and wave google translate at it, and poof! We learn all about the tires and how they should be treated. It’s a miracle of technology, truly.

But machine translation isn’t a replacement for humans. It’s a supplement.

Because language is the story of a people.

In Canada, we have a silly little term: “Ghost Car.” Suppose I plug that into my translator, and turn that into German. What will it spit out?

It’ll spit out “Geisterauto”.

That’s absolutely, one hundred percent WRONG.

Why is that wrong?

Because language is the story of a people.

And “ghost car” isn’t just two words.

“Ghost cars” are unmarked police cars. They hide, like “ghosts,” waiting to catch unsuspecting motorists. They appear out of nowhere, and there’s whole superstitions about them- my dad says you always look for the unnaturally clean parked cars, because cops keep their cars very clean. There’s controversy, too- if the point is to get people to slow down, why are the cars unmarked? Why are they hiding like phantoms? Is this just a tax, or is this an earnest attempt at safety?

But there’s the thing: ‘ghost car’ is better translated into ‘unmarked police car.’ Because Canada’s story, of hated cop cars appearing out of the drifts like greedy ghosts, isn’t the same story in other languages. I don’t know what the story in those other languages is; because that’s not my story.

Language is the story of a people.

And machines have absolutely no idea about any of those stories. When a machine sees the word ‘ghost car’, it doesn’t see decades of angry motorists. It sees two words: ghost car. And it matches words of equivalent meaning into the target language and spits that back out again.

So.

If language is the story of a people…

Do you really think AI can understand the implications of an unmarked Crown Victoria hiding in a blizzard? 

[thehiccupingbanana]

Banging on the Wall

PAIRING(S)/FANDOM: Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Michael Holden & Victoria "Tori" Spring (Heartstopper) GENRE: fluff, crack WORD COUNT: 1,010 RATING: Teen+ WARNINGS: sexual references SUMMARY: "When Nick and Charlie are here, it starts the same every time: Charlie's bedroom door closes, there’s a loud thump with some giggles, and Micheal and I make the mutual decision to go downstairs to play tractors with Olly." or Tori is tired of having her daily routine messed with when Charlie and Nick are home after school with their own routine. Tori has a bad day and Michael has an idea to help Tori's day get better and put a stop to her routine disruptions. ADDITIONAL TAGS: Crack Treated Seriously, POV Victoria "Tori" Spring, author is american, i wrote this in 1.5 hrs when my afternoon meeting was cancelled, I didn't edit this, Fluff and Crack, time: after solitare before nick goes to uni

[READ ON AO3]

Michael and I have a new routine after school. I don’t like my parents, but Michael really doesn’t like his parents, so we go to my house. Sometimes we do homework and other times we just do our own thing; I just enjoy spending time with him. Not that I would tell him or anyone that.

Unfortunately, Charlie and Nick have their own routine too. They usually go to Nick’s after school, but sometimes Mum demands for Charlie to come home straight after school. When they are here, it starts the same every time: his bedroom door closes, there’s a loud thump with some giggles, and Michael and I make the mutual decision to go downstairs to play tractors with Olly.

I know Charlie’s therapist tells him it’s good to have a routine, my therapist tells me the same. But does his routine have to be having sex with his boyfriend every day after school? In my opinion, it’s too much sex, there’s nothing special about sex anyways.

I am happy that Charlie is happy, but I would like for my routine to not be messed with on days Charlie is home. I quite like staying in my room, scrolling on Tumblr while Michael plays games on his phone or Switch.

Today was not a good day for me, therapy yesterday evening was hard for me, and I woke up this morning knowing it was going to be a bad day. Nothing bad happened, per se, but there is still time left in the day for the world to end. Michael bought me a lemonade at lunch today, so that helped a little bit; I didn’t have to tell him, I think he just knew.

Michael and I currently are laying on my bed, I’m scrolling on Tumblr on my laptop, with my headphones on, but music low enough to hear Michael’s argument on why it would be weirder to see a fairy in front of his door, instead of a walrus.  

Then I hear it, the inevitable sound of Nick and Charlie about to start their routine. I don’t want to go downstairs and act happy for Olly’s sake today. No, today I am going to stay in my room, but first- “I’m going to tell them to stop.” I tell Michael, standing up to march out of my room.

Before I can make it two steps from my bed, Michael grabs my wrist, “Wait!”

I look at his hand on my wrist and back at his eyes, he must get the memo, because he drops my arm and mutters a ‘sorry’ before continuing. “Tori, do you trust me?”

I give him a look, of course I trust him, why else would I let him look at my Tumblr dashboard, not that I would tell him that out loud.

“Aww, you do trust me. That’s so cute.” Michael coos.

I give him another look to which he raises his hands in a mock surrender. “Okay, I get it. Follow my lead.”

Before I can respond Michael gets off the bed and squats at the foot of the bed, puts his hands on the footboard, and pushes the bed against the wall, hard.

The sounds next door stops for a moment before there’s another giggle and then the sounds continue.

Oh.

I sit on the edge of the bed and start to lightly bounce, just enough that the springs in the bed start to squeak, Michael still slamming my bed into the wall. Not for the first time today, I’m glad that my parents are at work and Olly decided he would rather play Mario Kart than tractors today.

“Harder.” Michael says in a voice slightly above his normal volume.

I stop bouncing and turn my body to look at him, and raise an eyebrow at him.

He shrugs in response, slamming the headboard against the wall again before saying, “Yes! Just like that!”.

I can feel my face break into a small smirk, and see Michael’s face light up with its own smile.

I continue bouncing while Michael is pushing the headboard against the wall.

“Ready?” Michael whispers to me, before groaning loudly, “Oh my god.”

Next door is completely quiet.

“Let’s go.” Michael whispers, standing up and beckoning me to follow him out of my room. He stops us in front of Charlie’s bedroom door.

“Nick, we should go.” I hear Charlie say in his room, “We can walk Nellie or something. Come on.”

The door opens abruptly to Charlie’s shocked face and then a squeaky, “Jesus, Tori.” and a yelp from Nick.

“Charles.” I greet him.

“How? What? Why?” Charlie huffs, holding a hand to his chest, “What?”

“You know we share a wall, right?” I ask Charlie, but glare at Nick as a blush rises on his face.

“Yeah guys, we can hear everything.” Michael chimes in.

I didn’t think it was possible, but Nick blushes harder, before walking up to hide his face in Charlie’s shoulder.

“We,” Charlie starts, gesturing between him and Nick, “are not that loud.”

“Sorry guys, but-” Michael cuts in.

“Sorry!” Nick lifts his head, “I can’t help it!”

Charlie quickly turns his head and looks at Nick before saying, “Nick!”

“Sorry Char. You’re just-” Nick starts.

“Nope.” Charlie chides, putting a hand over Nick’s mouth. “No more talking for you.”

The look Nick gives Charlie, makes me think my brother has told him that before in a different context, and I am horrified. I look at Michael and his face tells me that he caught that too.

“Glad we had this conversation.” Michael says, already walking back to my room, “Have a good evening, boys.”

I follow Michael ignoring the whine of “Char” from Nick and the “shhh” from my brother. I really don’t want to know.

I lay back on my bed next to Michael, seeing a post about a fairy sized walrus or a walrus sized fairy being weirder to see on my porch.

Today was not a good day, but I almost smiled, so it’s better now.

~~~

title by the most lovely @sleepywriter00 who always helps me with titles and i am the most greatful <3

as always, if i missed any cw/tw's or this is mis-rated, please let me know and i will fix it.

[ao3feed-narlie]

Whats Wrong Charlie

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ymQzsU4 by A2p3n I originally wrote this for a school assignment but uh yea i might continue it this is written from Oliver’s pov!! Words: 830, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Heartstopper (Webcomic), Solitaire - Alice Oseman Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Oliver "Olly" Spring, Victoria "Tori" Spring, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper), Nicholas "Nick" Nelson Relationships: Charles "Charlie" Spring & Oliver "Olly" Spring, Nicholas "Nick" Nelson & Oliver "Olly" Spring, Oliver "Olly" Spring & Victoria "Tori" Spring, Nicholas "Nick" Nelson/Charles "Charlie" Spring, Nicholas "Nick" Nelson & Victoria "Tori" Spring, Charles "Charlie" Spring & Victoria "Tori" Spring Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, I wrote this at school, this was a school assignment, Self-Harm, Tractor Tom, Mario Kart References, Doctor Who References, Autistic Oliver "Olly" Spring, Cute Oliver "Olly" Spring, Good Sibling Victoria "Tori" Spring, Protective Victoria "Tori" Spring, Charles "Charlie" Spring (Heartstopper) Needs a Hug, How Do I Tag read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/ymQzsU4

[bikepackinguk]

Day One Hundred and Five

It's been 15 weeks on the road!

Whilst it doesn't manifest too often, I am a sufferer of hereditary Restless Leg Sybdrome, and last night it decided to be its wonderful self and do what it could to prevent much sleep from being had.

So, may as well get up and at 'em! It's an easy start today, extricating myself from a patch of trees by Hythe Bypass and rolling down around town to the pier at Hythe, where I don't have long to wait for my first ferry of the day.

The Hythe ferry is a catamaran style vessel, and it's a short cruise over the water to land at the docks by the city centre of Southampton.

Ruah Hour is in full swing right now, so it's some careful maneuvering to navigate around town and over the bridge across the River Itchen, before heading through the streets of Woolston to get back to the waterside.

There's a nice run along the water's edge here, before heading up through the grounds of Royal Victoria Country Park and into the nice little village of Hamble-le-Rice, which is still and quiet in the early morning.

Down to the docks and it's onto ferry #2 of the day, a tiny little pink boat that I share with a few ramblers to get across the River Hamble to reach Warsash.

Around the trails I go and it's up into some rough pathways along cornfields above the sea.

The paths meander around the fields before turning down to Hill Head, before a nice long run looking over the water through Lee-on-the-Solent.

As the road turns inland a little, the busy roads have a good few cycle paths along them, so I have a good charge down the main streets to speed my way through to the town of Gosport, where awaits my third and final ferry if today's river-hopping.

It's only a short journey across the harbour to land in the historic docks of Portsmouth, beside the famous HMS Warrior.

I'm on a bit of a schedule currently so I hit the road once more, rising through Old Portsmouth and missing a turn to take me through aome of the busier urban stretches of town, before zigging down to hit the edge of the Solent once more for a ride down past Eastney Beach.

I double back for a ride up through Eastney and along the easterly edge of Portsmouth and roll up to a hearty greeting with my lovely cousin Sarah!

The last time I was in Portsmouth was for her wedding to her lovely wife Charlotte and riding through has brought back many happy memories of the occasion, so it's all the more joyful to be able to interrupt her busy schedule as I'm treated to a beer and slap-up steak lunch. Thank you so much again and look forward to seeing you again soon cuz!

Farewells said and bellies full, I'm off along the road north as the cycle route hits some major road junctions around the north of Portsmouth, but the cycle paths track around alongside a good ways yet ao I'm spared the heavy traffic as I track around the A27 past Havant.

The route drops on to the A259 here, so it's time to put that hearty lunch to good use as I stretch the legs for a long run along the busy road awhile.

The cycle pathing here is spotty at best, and I end up just staying in the road to get some miles cranked out, and as the miles and small towns drop away it feels like practically no time at all before I hitnthe edges of Chichester.

With some twisting through town, I drop on to the towpath at the Chichester Canal to follow the cycle route down the water to Hunston, where I tack on to the B2166 as it curves around the expansive farmlands.

Along the road and jostling with plenty of tractors and school-run drivers, I keep in peddling away the miles and charge my way down through the growing suburbs and push on through to arrive at the beach at Pagham.

I have a brief pause to appreciate the view up the coast, but I've energy yet in the legs and light in the day, so am eager to keep at it.

Around through the roads of Pagham, it takes a good bit of routefinding to work my way around, but eventually ride around to hook up once morenwith NCN 2 as it restarts once more at the promenade of Bognor Regis.

My eagerness hasn't done me a great deal of favours here as I had been thinking of stopping a little short of Bognor, as it's a long urban stretch ahead with little opportunity for stealthy camping.

A bit of thinking and checking of the maps has me riding up and through the seaside town to head to the northern end of town where there look to be more possibilities to hole up for the night. I'll let you know how the scouting goes in the morrow!

TTFN!

[krisinthefalklands]

It Begins...

"I've applied for a school in the Falklands", Sara tells me. ".... Huh!? Oh? Right... OK", this comes as a bit of a shock to me, we've previously spoken about the possibility of us returning back up north, where the quality of life is better than where we currently are, just outside of 2023's Worst Place To Live, Luton, and where the cost of living is significantly cheaper, but at the same time, I was also somewhat unsurprised, Sara has always had itchy feet (I'm talking about a desire to travel, not a long undiagnosed skin condition) and was ready for a new school to teach at.

We'd previously visited an island with a small population for her to attend an interview weekend, where partners were also invited, and please, do read the next bit in air-quotes, with as much sarcasm as you can muster, "but partners aren't being interviewed, just invited so they can get a feel for the island", sure Jan... and just days before the 2020 COVID-19 lockdown measures were introduced in the UK, we visited the tiny island of Sark in the Channel Islands.

Not only is Sark a tiny island, it also has a tiny population of about 500 people, where people are outnumbered by the sheep, and the coastline is frequented by funny looking black and white birds (just remember this information for later) as puffins can be spotted on the sheer coastal edges of the island in Spring.

During our time on Sark, when Sara wasn't preparing a lesson to give to her potential future class, we went up and down their bustling high street, avoiding the local traffic of tractors, horse and carts and bicycles...there are no cars allowed on Sark (despite how much my friend Victoria keeps suggesting that if you squint, you could mistake a sports car for a small tractor), not that you would need a car given the size of the island! We also had a lovely curry at the seigneur's home with the other candidates, headteacher of the school and his wife, and a few local residents, including the locum GP, who I may have landed in hot water when I was "absolutely not being interviewed" by the island's vicar and his wife.

The current seigneur of Sark is the delightful Christopher Beaumont, the 23rd person to take up the mantle, a former officer in the British Army, but despite his highfalutin sounding status is down to earth, and happy to chat away with visitors to his beautiful gardens, especially about his newly installed solar panels and electric tractor (the first of it's kind on Sark!)

Sadly, it wasn't to be for our dream of a few quiet years on Sark, and we returned to empty streets, loo roll shortages and queues outside supermarkets, as we took our singular government approved walk of the day. Life moved on, just day after day after sodding day. The more things changed, the more things stayed the same.

There were other attempts to move to Sark, the teacher who did get the job decided it wasn't for them and returned to mainland UK. I guess choosing small island life requires a certain kind of hardiness, pig headedness and a desire to be part of a small community who will know everything about you after a certain amount of time. We have those qualities (we hope), but again, the job was offered to another applicant.

So after a couple of attempts of moving to one small island, and it not being successful, I pessimistically assumed it would be the same here, Sara would go for the interview, impress the panel, but there would just be that one sodding person with a smidge more experience, who would get the job and leave us stuck on rainy Brexit island.

The big day came, Sara set off to London for the interview, you see, whilst for Sark they flew us to Guernsey and then put us on the cute little ferry to the small island, the Falklands is a 16 hour flight across the Atlantic, and a bit far to go for an interview, so the interview panel came to the UK, at Falkland House, the Falkland Islands London address, where you can visit to discuss all manner of things, so long as those questions are about the Falkland Islands. Of course, things didn't go smoothly, as her tube decided to stop in the middle of a tunnel between stations, unable to contact the office to say she was delayed as this was a line that did not yet have 4G signal installed throughout, but she did make her interview in the nick of time, and on exit was told she'd hear back within a week.

At this point my pessimism had kicked in. They had clearly given the job to someone else, and we were doomed for another year in the London commuter belt. Another year of eating fish fingers whilst watching Pointless. Another year of breathing in the polluted air from the main road we lived next to. Another year of...

"ring ring¹"... Sara's phone is ringing, it's a +500 number from The Falkland Islands... I listen in...

"Hi, is that Sara?", asks the caller, she confirms, and the voice on the other end replies, "Sorry about the delay in getting back to you, when we arrived we needed to have a week to rest from the exhaustion of flying and to have a think about the candidates we saw. We were really impressed with your"... I could sense the "but", again, I'm a pessimist by nature... "and we'd like to offer you the position of class teacher at the Infant and Junior School starting in September" - for once, my natural glass half empty, cheery outlook on life, was unfounded.

I went to Tesco to get cake to celebrate the news, although the choices were rubbish and I came back with mini Millionaires Shortbread bites rather than actual cake, but now we had to let it sink in that we were going to have a very big journey ahead of us.

What follows is that journey²...

¹it didn't actually go "ring ring", we're millennials and as such our phones are permanently on mute, and just went "vvvvvvb vvvvvvb" but that would have looked like a cat walked across my keyboard if I'd put that.

²It's worth noting up to now, this has mostly been about Sara's journey, but from hereon this will be a shared journey

[kcaustcrimefiction]

EV Range Anxiety for Rural Dwellers doesn't need to be a thing

In December 2022 we picked up our first EV - SUV style, maximum range is 435 kilometres on a single charge. Granted that's not a long period of ownership, but we didn't go into this eyes clamped shut. A bit of plotting was undertaken and a bit of "it won't work / you're mad advice" considered.

We don't "tour" much because we've got stock to be cared for, but we do a fair amount of driving around - to the nearest large rural town (91ks one way) at least monthly, sometimes more frequently as that's where the doctors, hospitals (particularly if transport for somebody local is required), the greengrocers, and the "shops" are.

Other than that there's the regular 42k trip to the nearest minor rural town for vet visits (we really should have priority parking there by now!) and various bits and pieces, the run to the nearby tiny town which is 20ks - post office / library / pub / take the dog's for a stroll along the river in summer when the snake situation in the paddocks is a bit too fraught, and a bit of wandering about the neighbourhood.

So not a lot of driving, and it is often reasonably spaced out (although there's always "those weeks" where you never seem to get out of the car).

We're in central west Victoria, in the middle of nothing much in the way of public infrastructure. Nearest chargers (super or not) are at the end of the 42k trip, with the 91k trip taking us to a supercharger and a heap of other choices if we need them. We have our own solar system and battery on the house, which is grid interactive by choice - long story / lots of reasons. There are very few days in the year when we're not pushing some power back to the grid - so we trickle charge the car at home, using an extension cord at the moment. We've got a solar interactive charging station coming at the end of February.

Mostly the car is fully charged when it heads out the door (takes about 30 hours from dead empty, but if we're doing a couple of runs on consecutive days we can charge it overnight off the battery, otherwise we just trickle it over the day, turning on and off automatically based on the solar collectors efficiency). On the rare occasion we've charged at one of the charging stations, we've found that in the main we're waiting for long enough to grab a coffee or do a bit of browsing in a nearby shop before it's charged and ready to go, and the cost is NOTHING compared to what we were coughing up in diesel for the last car. (Our only complaint there is that it would be very very nice to have some chargers nearer to the aforementioned coffee shops and/or cover from the sun - it's bloody hot out here in summer.)

Anyway, my point is anxiety about range. We just don't get it. We have all the apps and the car points out the location of chargers. We top up if we're near a charger and think it's worth the wait to be 100% sure, or if it's a bit cloudy / overcast at home (ask anyone out here - it doesn't rain / lack of solar is the least of our problems), and we keep an eye on the levels. Just the same as we did with fuel. The number of times we had to top up from the diesel tank on the farm (for the tractor etc) because we'd stuffed up and the warning light came on after the last fuel station I can't begin to remember. The number of times that we just topped up on the road because you don't know a) where the next fuel station is and b) the price of diesel varies like nobody's noticing when you live in the bush. So we used EXACTLY the same behaviour then as we're using now - we keep an eye on things, we do a lot of "topping up" if we're around somewhere convenient. We keep an eye on the options at home and we rarely leave home without 435ks range in the "tank".

So anyway - no more thinking or planning than we needed to do when we were driving a diesel - in the land outside the world of frequent fuel stations (ask us about the people we've had to top up with fuel because distance between fuel stations isn't something taken into account it seems). A lot more convenience in some ways because now we have apps like PlugShare that has brilliant trip planning and Evie, ChargeFox and everything else that we can happily peer at and dream / one day we will "tour".

Interestingly we had a look at the Western Highway over Christmas - there's charging options every 100 or so kilometres, with fast chargers every 200 or so kilometres - all the way to Adelaide. We've joked it would be worth a Costco run there one day, probably an easier drive than battling with Melbourne's interminable roadworks.

[mummasaurus212]

My sisters kids are sick again. Seems to be some kind of stomach bug going around their school. I'm really hesitant to send Lincoln there at the moment, because he's finally been his happy self for a few weeks! Even with cutting molars and other teeth he's been a peach. I'm hoping a spot will open in day care next week so I can send him the 3 days.

My husband has resigned from his job. After 10.5 years and a brain injury he has finally but the bullet and decided enough is enough. I'm so proud of him 🥰 he is leaving the auto painting industry for good now and is moving on to selling agricultural products, tractors and equipment. I'm very excited to see what the future holds for him.

This means he heads to rural Victoria for a few days on the 4th of Jan and then starts at the new job fresh the following week.

This means, he gets a few months annual leave paid and long service as well, so we will have some buffer sitting aside ready for when the baby arrives, as neither of us have any leave 😣

[steveskafte]

BEFORE THE MODERN

Old tires end up in unexpected places. Dumped by someone off an embankment, rolled down the hill; picked up by some heavy rainfall, washed into a stream. Eventually, it will follow from here to the ocean. There are no more eager polluters than those who've lived in one place all their lives. Familiarity with nearby nature inspires some to keep it pure – and leads others to believing that they can do what they like with it. Before the modern institution of curbside pickup, every homestead had a dumping ground out back. It was mostly metal and glass, slow to break down, and so I find a lot of historic refuse in my travels. But some folks have kept up that tradition in the age of plastic. Rather than memorize a weekly schedule, they'll simply truck their trash to the back of a field or throw it off the nearest cliff. It gets blown everywhere, torn apart by wildlife, a real big mess. Last winter in a blizzard, I spotted someone setting tractor tires ablaze in Port Lorne. For worst or best, we all become are truest selves when we're sure that no one sees us.

September 3, 2024 Victoria Harbour, Nova Scotia

Year 17, Day 6141 of my daily journal.