It's that time of year again

Spring is just around the corner, the grass is getting greener, baby lambs take their first steps in the world, and I'm getting ready to move yet again.

*Sigh*

Well, it has to be done, so no point in moaning about it. And although I detest packing, clearing out my stuff and unpacking at the new place, I'm actually quite looking forward to it.

However, Lady Luck has interrupted my life again, making sure things aren't easy or straightforward. You see, the house I was going to move into was sitting on a radiation hotspot. How's that for luck?

There's a lovely part of Fife, with lovely houses, lovely views, lovely gardens, lovely cars, lovely people, lovely dogs, and a large amount of lovely radium in the sea and on the lovely beach. It seems that the site of decommissioning a large number of fighter planes has been turned into a lovely (again, I know) residential area, and I can't really say I'm against that. All's fine and good, no?

No.

Back then (and I presume now as well when nobody's looking) decommissioning something (anything) meant setting it on fire and throwing it in the nearest sea/lake/river. In the case of fighter planes, that back in the day had instruments coated with radium to glow in the dark, this lead to substantial amount of burnt (i.e. unaffected) radium being dumped in the nearby bay, and then forgotten. And then some decades down the road, a random radiation levels check shows that the area is contaminated. Great.

As always, a big survey took place and, quite predictably when considering the area was prime estate location by then, showed that everything was A-OK. Provided you didn't visit the beach too often. Or grow vegetables in your garden, which might have had a few tonnes of soil removed to reduce the radiation levels. Or hold on to rocks you collected. You get the picture; even if overall the doctors say it's ok, would you trust in that? Would you knowingly live in an area running the risk that some years down the road a new report might come out that says "oops, actually, you're fucked"?

Well, I didn't. I found a new house, one that's not sitting on the outskirts of Milpitas (those of you that get it, well done, you've wasted your life watching crappy films at least as much as I have).

It is in Kirkcaldy though, and I know there are people that would prefer growing a third leg that glows in the dark to that. Oh well.

I'll let you know how it goes. Until then, don't walk your dog in Dalgety bay. Or Aberdeen. Or Torness. Or...