Using Blood and Bone.

Mr Woog has left a legacy with me today, an olfactory reminder that has filled the air and permeated every room of the house. There is a distinct fog of pong surrounding this block. I cannot escape from it. It has even caused the fine hairs in my nasal passage to shrivel up.

The slightest breeze brings with it a new strength of stink that causes my eyes to water. The kids keep blaming each other for farting. I have not seen the cat in 12 hours and the pigs, the poor pigs… well to be honest I don’t really think they give a shit.

But I do. Everyone has gone to their place of education or employment  and I am stuck here doing “home duties”, marinating in the most god-awful stench known to man.

I have closed up the house, and it makes absolutely no difference. I suspect, like Santa, it is coming down the chimney. From my desk here, I am watching people walk past and can clock the change in their face as they pass the front garden, which seemed to bear a fair bit of the fertiliser.

It reminds me of the little boy in kindy, who crapped his pants and was forever known as Stinky. I am the new Stinky of the neighbourhood.

So why is this stuff so stinky?


A recipe you would have to be a complete saddist to concoct.

And why is it spread all over the garden, as far as the eye can see?

Because it improves soil structure, promotes soil micro-organisms and encourages earthworms.

A scent that is ever offensive is prolific around these parts today, and according to the Woolies man who just delivered the shopping, it is likely to hang around until the weekend.

Heaven help me.

The only smell I detest as much is the pong waft that you get when you pass a Subway “restaurant.” *insert dry wretch*

Anyone else suffering from this, this Spring?
What is the most offensive smell you react to?
*Clearly not sponsored by Yates.
If they had any amount of decency, they would make this stuff out of roses and chocolate.