Death Tick
Death ticks are clockwork menaces resembling ticks, but about the size of a man’s hand. They are programmed to seek out a living target, jump onto that target, and siphon the victim’s life fluids. Once the enemy is a dry husk, the tick returns to its sender. Any tick failing to reach the sender in 10 hours releases a corrosive acid and destroys itself.

Prairie Tick
Prairie ticks are the scourge of the High Plains. These horrid bloodsuckers live in underground burrows and are controlled by a single, giant queen that rules over each nest.

And then, thinking back, I noticed other things - such as the fact that you rarely have conversations with other people in dreams, and that most people, if they can find a dream-book to open, find nothing useful or intelligible inside.

And then I thought, these kinds of limitations are quite understandable - after all, your brain is literally inventing an entire fantasy environment around you in real time. Looking at it like that, it's staggering how realistic dreams are, in spite of their shortcomings. On the Crescent sites, a lot of us are creatives of some kind - including writers - so we know how hard is is to produce something halfway realistic in real life. In fact, it suddenly struck me to ask, 'Looking at the sheer amount of creativity that goes into a dream, and knowing how much mental effort it takes to do anything similar when up and about, how come dreaming isn't more mental effort than being awake??'

Or in the words of Humph, "The teams can say any word they want, limited only by their own imaginations.
... It's stiff, that rule."

To maximize the fun I did not realize this had happened until the thaw, when I went down to the basement and discovered a nice new paddling pool.

The water had sprayed up the side of the house for about a day and a half and frozen in many interesting patterns, but had also soaked into the ground and waterlogged it, causing many leakes through the basement wall and seepage through the floor itself. I took over 40 gallons of water out using the wet-vac, a submersible pump and a stream of class four Words of Power.

Phase 1: gotta get a cat flap, or no one will even consider me for entiddlification. That's due for this Thursday.

I had never really considered getting a cat at this address before, because I'm right on a main road and I'm not really willing to accept even a low probability of a poor mog getting squished.

But then I belatedly realised (belated by $%&^$% years) that if I got a cat that was elderly, defective or otherwise unable to go out, then the road wouldn't matter nearly so much. So that's the plan. Find an old slow animal that can't be bothered to move much and spoil it rotten for its retirement

I've laid on Bird TV for it already, so we'll both have something to look at out of the window

Although I suppose strictly speaking it would be a Moginot Line.

Glad to hear that the feature is used by people, though, as going backwards in time is not so straightforward.

OFCOM guidance is apparently forthcoming, but from reading around the Bill, my understanding is that I will be required to ensure all users are of age and further to act proactively to prevent any harmful content appearing on the pages. The consequences of not doing so could result in bankruptcy-inducing fines and/or imprisonment.

Now, obviously, this is ridiculous. This site has been running for just over twenty years (slightly miffed to have missed the anniversary in January, but there we go) in the spirit in which it is intended (notwithstanding the ever-present risk of the Morden spiral and the harm that can come from falling into one of those). So thank you all for being responsible and permitting the existence of a site that is clean, fun and requires zero moderation.

However, unfortunately, unless the guidance this is forthcoming allows the legal obligations to be performed in a light-touch and quasi-autonomous way, I don't see any alternative to pulling down the shutters and saying goodbye to this place. It's not even obvious to me that an archive of the pages can be maintained without verifying the age of anyone wanting to look at it. So archivists might want to get archiving.

There once was a batsman called Grover,
Who scored thirty-six runs in one over!
Which had never being done
By a clergyman's son
On a Sunday, in August, at Dover!

With me on this?

Bonus clue: I'm probably distantly related to these people