Lost and Found in E11

Some say the field student's cry of horror at the wizened state of his psychogeographic manhood, which had once spoomed 'with a full sail bunt fair before the wind', is always to be heard. I can only imagine it as a barely perceptible distant cry in all the noise of the background. Let me remind you of his prowess, of his Rabelasian swelling...... Field Study's Man in E11 - strouting champion. The field student was quite the 'strouting champion' - or so he thought - for I had issues with the origin of his 'labourer of nature'. True, by proportion, his marvelous labourer of nature was 'fat, great, lusty, stirring, and crest risen, in the antique fashion'* but long it was not. I confronted his delusion head on, pricking his consciousness with the observation that he would have to be able to wind his labourer five or six times about his waist to be one of the mythical race of utterly lost (& found) and (not) quite extinct swollen on

27th April 2014 I was enraged by yet another emanation of the field student's field handi-work; this time in the blackcurrant bushes. I stamped around angrily, rousing the red ants, which duly formicated about my ankles to stimulate a diatribe which began thus, sucking parasites leaf bubbling  pox maidens   blackcurrant blistering aphids all sap bloated lice viviparous slurping arthropods! .......... I stamped around and ranted until I was a stormy  bruised grey blue in the face with little left of my little mind to give to the minuscule creatures I held partly responsible for the mutations of the blackcurrant leaves. I fear the green tongued invective has done little to remedy the problem (which is not really a problem). 

Hive inspection - 13th April 2014. I don't know why I didn't scratch away at just a few of the capped honeycomb cells to see what was concealed. I don't recall having seen capped honeycomb like this before. Perhaps it was lack of curiosity and all too willing ignorance; or fear. Our field study of the allotment is becoming something of a pestilential odyssey and there are few fields that match those of honeybees and beekeeping for pests and diseases. Bikini red is the constant state of alert for apiculturalists. If the chimeric field student is out to infest every nook, cranny and niche of the plot with all that is unremittingly baneful then the apiary, and the sole surviving hive, would be the epicentre of his demonic connivance. The demonizing of the field student played on my mind for it seemed I had also been lured into a trap of demonizing those afflicted by him - as if everything were host to him and consumed by him so as to be inseparable and complicit. That a

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Apple Tree - Plot B - 12th April I was rather down-spirited at the weekend despite the splendid show of blossom by many of the allotment's fruit trees. While the flowers presented themselves as a heartening feast for the gardeners' eyes I was also aware of them as potential sites for a spring time festival of pests and diseases. I could not enjoy them as I wanted to because Field Study's Man in E11 was likely to be inhabiting all of the flowers in the form of site specific pests and/or diseases. Of course as a counter-horticultural doctrinaire he would be inhabiting the minds of the pests. Given he had taken to the broad beans via the burrowing collective consciousness of 'thee Bean Weevil' (of the family, Chrysomelidae) I wondered if he had altered his state of mind into that of 'thee Apple Blossom Weevil' (of the family, Curculionidae)?    I searched for the tell tale signs of  Anthonomus pomorum . I was unconvinced by the absence of symptoms

The disappearance of Field Study's Man in E11 is probably only of concern to me. There is little evidence of anyone else searching for him and I have struggled to find or invent reasons as to why anyone should, even remotely, give a damn, however there is always no-one nowhere. I had an idea, whilst writhing in a morass of tadpoles at the margins of 'allotmental' pond life; I should reassert his status as a public menace. The field student's beginnings were derived from a Situationist tactic that whenever he was asked for directions (which he frequently was) he would point people in the wrong direction. I fear he has lost himself in his own misdirections; damned to be going the wrong way forever - 'meta-psycho-dis-orienteering' ad infinitum. Don't, whatever you do, put that term in a search engine! I shall keep the bad faith that the pestiferous field student can be found and will be found. I re-emerged from the pond and started looking for something to

The vision of Field Study's Man in E11 disemboweled and displayed for the pleasure and provocation of the denizens of Caledonian Road was disturbing. What are 'they' putting in the concrete to stimulate such creativity in the new heart of regenerating darkness that is Kings Cross and surrounds? A week of bloody tracks and signs on the trail of the field student from the centre to the east of the metropolis found me in need of respite from the colourful inner truths of the urban jungle. I started out for the sanctuary of the allotment. I had barely made but two bicycled revolutions in the journey when my attention was caught by a glimpse of a flattened and dried corpse of a frog in the road. The sight of the remains of this creature on the edge of inner city London stimulated a sensation in my gut that spoke of, Field Study's Man in E11. I pulled over to the side of the road to stop, park my bicycle and take a closer look. A taxi blared it's horn and stopped