Randolph We have an electrified fence running around the top of the wall that surrounds our complex. This is a standard feature of living in Johannesburg. I’d sooner have razor wire, and this post is part of the reason why.
Since electrifying the wire would consume an unaffordable amount of electricity (notwithstanding the upcoming Eskom tariff increases of 45% per year for three years), it uses a pulsed charge that runs through the wire approximately once every second.
So the control box ticks, quite audibly, at a steady 1Hz, day in and day out. Fortunately, we only hear this if we sit in the lounge with the front door open, or happen to be outside. If that was not the case, and I would hear it every night, I’d freak.
Last night, I couldn’t sleep. This upcoming move is more stressful than I expected, and I’m feeling my AS acting up, so I have a low threshold for noise. This includes garden crickets. How anything so small should be so noisy is beyond my substantial powers of comprehension.
There was a cricket chirping, or rubbing its legs together (or whatever it is they do to get laid), and it was distracting me. But much more ominous to me was the steady click, click, click, that could only be an electrified fence discharging its load through a short circuit.
Unfortunately, this sound appeared to be coming from RIGHT OUTSIDE MY BEDROOM. In other words, no sleep for me. Really.
This afternoon, upon my return home from work, I decided to investigate. I would not have my sleep affected by external influence if I could avoid it.
Using my much-vaunted and über-powerful hearing (but mostly luck), I narrowed down the clicking to the corner of the garden, where the sound was echoing off the wall, amplified by the corner, and bouncing into my bedroom window.
After getting wet from the tree under which I clambered to access the corner, I discovered a slug. It had managed to slither its way close enough to one of the plastic insulators to be electrocuted, and still carry an electrical charge through its body as it rotted.
The effect was a visible spark, every second, as the fence earthed itself through the slug and into the brick wall.
Randolph decided to remove the slug, to effect a peaceful sleep (see what I did there?). All he needed was something long enough to avoid arcing, and non-conductive (and dry) to avoid electrocution.
Armed with a stick in my right hand (I’ve been electrocuted before), I felt the electricity travel through the sap when I touched the slug, so I hunted for a better weapon.
Three minutes later, I had an A4 page, folded along the length at around 3cm wide for strength, and scraped off the slug. Yes, in case you’re wondering, it was as disgusting as it sounds. In fact, a dead slug that is being used as a light bulb does not in fact retain much structural integrity after a day. Scraping is definitely the right way to describe the process.
I am now writing this in absolute peace and quiet. Tonight, even the mighty cricket knows that Sir Randolph and his trusty paper sword is ruthless.
I bid you good night.