We think there might be a problem with one of the bumble bee size quails, it hasn't, until this afternoon, lay on its side and run round in circles, so somethings not quite right unless its a freestyle quail break dance champ aged five days. The other one sits and watches with interest but thankfully has not copied this unique behaviour. Plans to rehouse the bumbles into a newly acquired plastic fish tank have been put on hold while we figure out how regulate the temperature. Key to maintaining a constant temperature in Rock HQ is the Rayburn.
The temperamental beast has thrown another wobbly and refused to heat up or do anything remotely associated with cooking for the last 24 hours and despite yours truly getting on his hands and knees and prodding around with its internals, relighting the new wicks it steadfastly refused to contribute to the scrambled eggs I wanted for supper. I chose to ignore the poor behaviour and showed my contempt by using the single electric hob, the type that frequently inhabits bedsit land, purchased after the last sulky shut down forced the consumption of sandwiches, soggies (cereal) and take-away until the arrival of the SAS forced the heavy metal paperweight to cooperate.
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