Not all victories are glorious

I slept late this morning, well late for me, and was woken around eight o'clock by 30% with a mug of hot coffee.

After a very gentle start to the day, we divided and conquered. 30% headed out* whilst I attended to gardening matters.  The main vegetable crops were fed; tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbages and celeriac and then I went to inspect the mole trap ... Success!

I have caught one of the little blighters, but, despite yesterday's bluster, there is a poignancy to the deed. Moles are delightful little creatures and, as I have said before, I am perfectly happy for them to tunnel up in the orchard. And, for the past three years, that is exactly what they have done. It is a shame that there is no effective deterrent as that would be my preferred approach.

Midday approached and there was still no sight of 30%, so I dragged out the pawn mower and made a start on the front lawn. It was making a horrible noise, so I stopped and checked the blade. It is securely bolted to the drive shaft, but there is a lot of play and my imagination headed off down a very dark alley ... the one where the blade breaks loose from the drive shaft, exits the mower deck at the rear and shears off my feet at the ankles.

It is definitely time for a new mower!

The afternoon saw us clear the last of the ivy and brambles from behind the re-discovered bed and finally get the Pineapple tree in to the ground.  This, of course, creates a whole new gardening debate based around "what ground cover plants should we go with?"

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* For a chat with her half-sister

Crossing the Line

 A couple of weeks ago I was looking out from the bathroom window* and noticed a small heap of freshly dug earth at the edge of the lawn. 

In an instant each and every nerve fibre was on full alert ... it was clearly an initial foray by every green keeper's nemesis; a mole!

Now we have moles up in the orchard and I am quite happy for them to live their little subterranean lives, munching on worms and creating heaps of soft, brown earth.  However there is a line that shall not be crossed and that line surrounds each and every one of the lawns.

"Do your moley shit in the orchard and all is fine. Any foray on to the lawns is an open declaration of war!"

Over the following days a few more molehills appeared and a mole trap was purchased.  Now for a little tangent. Years ago my father informed me that moles have a very keen sense of smell and one should always handle mole traps with hands that have been rubbed with earth to mask our scent. Taking heed of this I ensured that the new mole trap was rubbed with damp soil and buried for a day or so, before I set it in the mole's run.

The approach I used was to dig carefully down with a hand trowel and locate the run about 5" below the surface.  I place a few chopped worms in the run as bait and carefully set the trap in place.  A bucket was upturned over the trap to keep every thing nice and dark and all needed to do now was to go about my business.

Should the mole be piggybacking on my wifi and reading the Journal, I have this message for it ... I WILL END YOU, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!

The rest of the day involved some gentle gardening, an invitation from the coven to attend an Indian cuisine demonstration and an evening fishing at Fladbury with Bubbles.**

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* The WC in the bathroom is affectionately known as The Best Seat in the House.  We have no neighbours, so we have no need of opaque glass and therefore enjoy unobscured views across open fields when sat upon the loo.

** We had several good bites, but none were caught.

Can you freeze celeriac?

 I know it's a bit of an odd title for a Journal entry, but I'll get to the point in a moment, or two.

I woke early and wandered in to the kitchen to make coffee. A flash of colour outside the window caught my attention and my eyes fell upon a Greater Spotted Woodpecker searching for insects on the trunk of the Birch tree.  We have several woodpeckers in and around the garden and they are always a delight to see and hear.

As I watched it searching for food, a movement on the ground distracted me and I saw another quite large bird. It took me a moment to realise that it was a juvenile Green Woodpecker here in the garden.  We often hear these shy birds calling in the surrounding fields, but it was a rare treat to see one only a few yards from the kitchen window. 

So that was how my day started, coffee and a rarely seen avian dinosaur. 

Now on to celeriac and whether it can be frozen.  Both 30% and I love this versatile vegetable hence I have twenty plants doing quite nicely out in the veg patch. They are slow to germinate and grow, but I should have a decent crop by the end of the Autumn. 

I have grown them previously and the limited information available suggested that they could be left in the ground and simply lifted, as required, over the course of the Winter.  I found out the hard way that this advice was complete bollocks, as they turned to a revolting mush after the first couple of frosts.

I was therefore interested in finding a way to effectively store this vegetable to avoid another wasted crop. Research on the internet had indicated that it could be blanched and frozen, so that is what I tried this morning.  

The celeriac bulb was peeled, cut in to 2cm cubes and added to a pan of boiling water. Once the water had returned to the boil, it was left to simmer for two and a half minutes before being drained and plunged in to iced water.  After chilling, the cubes of celeriac were patted dry with a fresh tea towel and then frozen loose on a tray. They will be bagged up tomorrow and then left for a month or two, before I thaw them out and see if it is an effective method of preservation.

The alternative is to simply lift them out of the ground, clean them off and store them in a box of peat in a cool, dry, frost free place.  My only concern is that the bloody mice will be at them before I shut the door on the store room.

The rest of the day saw me mostly out and about in the garden. I finally got the BMW hooked up to the battery optimiser and it is now neatly covered in the car port. 30% and I gave the dogs a short walk and finally got the Azure Rush Geraniums and Lemon Popsicle Kniphofia planted after they had sat patiently in pots for far too long a good while.

The big job of the afternoon was to prepare space in the garden for 30%'s recently acquired Pineapple Tree (Cytisus battandieri).  The chosen spot was a very overgrown bed to the rear of the vegetable garden up against the orchard fence.  The bed was home to a monstrous, tangled privet, a healthy crop of stinging nettles and a red currant that had last cropped when I was a child. It is fair to say that clearing the bed was a bit of a job and, by the end of the afternoon, several barrow loads of greenery had been piled in the orchard for burning at a later date.

We haven't finished the clearance yet, but we can see that we now have a bed that is about 5' x 8' and it should be perfect for the Pineapple Tree ... once I get those bloody roots out!

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* I must jot down the celeriac soup recipe I use. It is a fabulous rich creamy soup that must be good for you, it has vegetables in it.**

** Yes Bad Man, it also has six ounces of butter and half a pint of double cream too!

Car Cleaning, take #2

 This morning I looked out to see steady rain falling from a grey sky and was not encouraged to venture out in to the garden.

30% enquired as to my plans for the day and I knew that I had to come up with something pretty quickly or I was going to be guilt tripped persuaded to spend a soggy delightful morning engaged in horticultural activities.  I got the cerebral cogs whirring and came up with a genius idea ... I assembled a shopping list based on recent conversations and added in that we could also do with another couple of litres of deionised water for the incubator. 

This final item was the trump card. 30% loves her chickens and there was no way that the current batch of potential chickens would be risked in any way. If the incubator needs deionised water, it shall be done!

The morning was therefore spent wandering around a supermarket that was several degrees centigrade cooler than I would have liked.* It was, however, far drier than outside.

The afternoon saw me, once again, attempt to get the BMW clean before being put away in the car port. If I am honest I have been dragging my heels on this particular task as it is a real faff.  What with hose pipes, pressure washers, extension reels, buckets and car cleaning products there is half an hour of set-up before a drop of water makes contact with the car. And then there is the tidy up at the end ... ball ache!

Anyway, I managed to get myself sufficiently motivated and the car is now much cleaner and finally slotted in to the car port. Tomorrow should see it connected to a battery optimiser and sheeted up for the next few months.

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* What is it about these bloody places! They are fucking freezing inside! A few weeks ago I was dragged in to Sainsbury's in Redditch and had to huddle by the Rotisserie Chicken stand for warmth whilst 30% picked up a couple of items. I kid you not when I say that a member of staff sidled up, asked if I was cold and then admitted that she often lingered in the same warm spot for a couple of minutes to thaw out.

Domesticity

 Today was another quiet day. I had great plans which included lawn mowing and car washing, or even hoeing the veg patch, but, as the day drew to a close, they were still just that ... plans.

30% was out for much of today attending a family funeral.  I had offered support, but she was quite happy to go alone. It was one of those funerals where the relationship with the sadly deceased had declined over time, having been more than thirty years since she last saw this aunt.  It was, therefore, a relatively pain free experience and, when she eventually returned from the wake,* she seemed to have had a pleasant time catching up with her Father's side of the family.

As she left there was a casual reference to stripping of beds and domesticity became my focus for the day.  Beds were stripped, bed linen was laundered and line dried. The dishwasher was emptied and refilled and so the day ambled forward. 

If I am truly honest, the pace was leisurely and I didn't break a sweat until I decided that the dogs should be walked in the early afternoon.  The weather is still cool for the time of year, but the dogs were panting and I ended the walk wishing that I had left my hat** and sweatshirt at home.

The walk was followed by a snooze and I then undertook a job that, it seems, only I find deeply satisfying ... I cleaned two pairs of my boots.  

Many years ago someone said that you can judge a character by looking at a persons shoes and you can judge their spending power by looking at their watch. I must think that there is something in this observation.  I have often looked at sharply dressed individuals and then looked down to see dirty, scuffed shoes.  The entire ensemble has failed because the individual couldn't be arsed to spend twenty minutes polishing their shoes ... Why wouldn't you do that? And what does this tell you about the character of that individual?

Anyway that's enough for today ... domestic trivia, dog walking, depilation and character judgements.

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* There was mention of hot sausage rolls. They sounded lovely, but clearly way too large for one to be sneaked out in her handbag ... sad face emoji

** A hat is now required safety wear*** as I have sported a shaved head clipped scalp since the covid lockdown of 2020. I had a full head of hair when 30% and I got married, but when I saw the wedding pictures it was very clear that I was going quite thin at the back.  We entered lockdown shortly after the wedding and a haircut was not possible, so I grabbed the clippers and clipped it back to my scalp.  I have sported a haircut varying from skinhead to suedehead, depending on the interval between cuts ever since.

Well, today I went one step further. Having clipped my hair earlier in the day I was well aware that there is often a tuft of hair left at the back because it is actually quite difficult to see the back of one's head.  This is a source of amusement for 30%. I therefore decided to wet shave my head. I had never done this before and really wasn't sure how it would go, but it was really easy and I now sport a tuft free, smooth pate.

*** Be skin cancer aware, kids!

Day of Rest

 After Saturday's comings and goings Sunday was always going to be a day of rest.

30% and I started the day at a leisurely pace and were joined by Bubbles shortly after nine o'clock.  He has his motorcycle compulsory basic training arranged for next Wednesday and had come over to get a little more experience on my Moto Guzzi.  He is doing really well, considering this is only his second time on a bike, and was soon riding smoothly up and down the lane with much improved gear changes.

Bubbles hung around until shortly before lunch and the time was filled with chat and coffee.

TP finally turned up in the early afternoon after yesterday's Ibiza Classic gig at Ragley.  We caught up on each others' news and were joined by Charlie to discuss a potential motorcycle tour of the Pyrenees. When I say "potential" it is an actual tour for TP and Charlie, taking place at the beginning of September.  My participation was the potential factor.  Unfortunately I am not going to be joining the tour due to dog, and probably chicken, sitting duties, as 30% will be in London that week.

As the afternoon turned to evening I helped TP adjust the chain on his BMW and we soon learn that he really needs a new chain and sprockets, especially as he will be touring on it later in the Summer.

That just about sums up Sunday. A traditional Sunday dinner was eaten and an extended period of vegetation took place.

Out and About

 Friday was a day of breezy, sunny intervals. Saturday was most definitely not! 

The morning was vile. Rain fell from a grey sky and it was chilly. It is quite amazing that, for the past two or three days, it has been cool enough overnight that our central heating has fired up in the early morning to take away the chill. It hasn't been running full blast but the radiators have been warm to the touch.

Today was going to be fairly busy and I was driving down the lane by eight this morning. The rain worsened as I headed over to the Cotswold Shooting Ground and, by the time I got there, my mind was made up; there was no bloody way I was going to shoot in this crappy weather.*

I informed Bubbles and the rest of the squad of my decision, but they persuaded me to stay and score for them, rather than heading straight back home. I actually had a fun morning chatting and laughing and didn't miss not shooting. I don't shoot well in a heavy coat and the bonus was that I hadn't spent seventy quid on cartridges and the clays.

Back at home I discovered that the cleaning fairies had been busy while I was out, as had the cookery elves, and I returned to a much tidier home than the one I had left. 

As we lunched we noted that the weather seemed to have improved and we decided that we would make use of the two virtual tickets to Hanbury Show that were sitting in 30%'s inbox.  Hanbury is only a few miles down the road and their agricultural show is a little gem.  It is not huge like the Three Counties or The Royal Welsh, but it is just lovely. It is well attended, well organised and has everything one would expect at a manageable scale.  We had a lovely few hours wandering around. A few showers were dodged and an ice cream was shared.  We fell in love several times as we wandered along the pig pens and future plans for the orchard may well involve a pair of these lovely animals.

In the evening we headed over to Huntingdon Hall in Worcester to see Richard Herring's Can I have my ball back? stand up show.  We have seen Richard many times and this deeply personal account of his testicular cancer experiences was brilliantly funny and delivered with pace and enthusiasm.  It is many years since we were last at the Hall and I had forgotten just how intimate it is. We were a couple of rows back from the stage and had a huge sense of connection with the performer.

So that just about covers Saturday.  TP is attending the Classic Ibiza gig at Ragley Hall this evening and the weather appears to have settled. We haven't a clue where he is sleeping, just that he is likely to be making an appearance at the cottage at some point on Sunday ... probably nursing a monstrous hangover!

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* I had a fairly busy day planned and I really didn't want to add an hour of gun cleaning to the schedule.

The weekend begins

 Clearly I haven't lost the habits established over thirty seven years of work because Friday was very much a lazy day marking the transition to the weekend. Although every day is a Saturday or a Sunday now we are retired the weekend still has special status. I suppose it is because a significant proportion of our friends are still working and many events are scheduled for the weekend.

Anyway, back to Friday, I did very little. It was as quiet as Thursday was busy, I took a walk sans chiens in to the village to collect a prescription from the surgery and that was about it. I did also sit out in the sun and tie a few hair rigs* in preparation for next week's fishing trip, but that really was just an excuse to catch a few rays.

The afternoon involved a snooze on the sofa and some watering in the garden before 30% returned from her Spa break.

Not a fascinating read, I will admit, but my pre-weekend** was just perfect.

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* Hair Rig: an item of fishing tackle that is attached to the end of one's line. It allows bait to be presented whilst sitting alongside, rather than attached to, the hook

** Apparently the Yoof  portmanteau this to Prekend.

The Power of the List

I am a strong believer in the power of the list. I find that simply documenting a set of objectives is an incredible motivator, leading to an effective use of my time.

Now this may sound like the introduction to a Manage Your Way to Success self help tome. And, if you think about it, a lot of the management and business process stuff that is spouted is simply based on making a list. The only difference is that the management publications add a lot of posh words and superfluous waffle, taking a chapter to over-explain something that only really needs a couple of sentences.

Let me explain ...

The first thing that needs to be done is to think about the things that need to be done.  In the world of business and projects this will range in description from a Brainstorming Session to Producing a Work Breakdown Structure. Fundamentally they are both just stages in identifying shit that needs to be completed.

Now we move on to documenting writing out the list of things that need to get done.  As soon as we start to prioritise and sequence that list we are  Identifying The Critical Path and when we start to estimate the time needed to complete each activity and what is needed to complete it we are in to Resource Planning and Duration Estimation. Fundamentally we have entered the world of Project Planning.

If we take the aforementioned list and share it with one's partner for their views and input, we have identified a Stakeholder, initiated a Review Process and probably initiated a Governance Process too.

As soon as we start to address the items on the list, crossing them out as we complete them, we are Project Managers and, as we let our signifiant other know how we are doing, we have established a Reporting Process.

I will wager that there are individuals and corporations out there making a handsome living via the medium of LinkedIn on-line seminars that are fundamentally based on just making a bloody list and working your way through it.

As for me, I hit my list hard today and got a lot of shit done.

The incubator was fired up as soon as I got my first cup of coffee down my throat and fingers are crossed for a successful hatching in twenty one days time.

I then hit the internet and completed a click and connect order at Screwfix. After breakfasting I gathered my photo ID and headed off to pick up my order. On the way back I had a minor detour via the polling station to vote.

Back at home I successfully negotiated the NHS App and managed to submit a request for some eye drops before I headed out to the garden.  Initially the weather was cool and breezy and I sheltered in the greenhouse nipping out the tomato side shoots and training the vines. As the weather warmed I headed out to the veg patch and planted another batch of runner beans along with the bamboo teepees needed to support them.

Thursday night is fishing night and the dogs would be home alone this evening, so I took them out for a good walk as recompense, before I headed over to Barton. I only fished until about half past nine and didn't see much action, although Bubbles landed a couple of chub shortly after I left ... Typical!

So, there you have it. A cynical discourse on management bull shit or support for the power of the list. Either way, I got a lot done today.

An early start

 We were out of the house and heading towards darkest Herefordshire shortly after eight o'clock this morning.  

It was a ninety minute drive to reach Pembridge Poultry where we picked up twenty fertile eggs.  We have ten eggs from Cuckoo Marans and Norfolk Grey breeds and these will be rested overnight before being placed in our incubator tomorrow morning.

30% is now praying for a 100% hatch and no cockerels!

On the way back from Pembridge we picked up Jules and headed back home. A quick lunch was taken before 30% and Jules headed off towards Ashby-de-la-zouch for a couple of days of R 'n R at Champneys Spa.

I was left to my own devices, so made best use of my time by having a massive kip on the sofa.* Feeling marginally refreshed, I hauled my backside outside and spent a couple of hours dismantling and de-nailing the pallet that held our new poultry house. My pile of softwood further increases, and is now joined by a large sack of kindling.

As the afternoon drew in to evening I did what any man alone did** and threw a pizza in the oven.***

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* In my defence I will offer that I was awake by half past four this morning and tossed and turned for about forty minutes, before rising just after five o'clock.

** No, not that! You smutty sod!

*** I love to cook, but cooking for one can seem like a massive amount of effort with none of the reward that comes from sharing a meal.

But no eggs

 We had a full agenda planned for today. Well, we did until the 'phone rang before breakfast.

We had arranged to head over to Pembridge this morning to pick up some fertile hens eggs. That trip was abandoned when the poultry breeder called to let us know that "something had come up" and could we, instead, call later in the day.  Unfortunately that was going to clash with a couple of other scheduled appointments, so it looks like we'll be collecting the eggs tomorrow instead.

Our morning was now free, so I filled a bowl with hot, soapy water and headed out to the Store Room and spent a good part of the morning cleaning the bacon slicer and storing it away.

The afternoon's appointments were both of an optical nature. I had a diabetic eye screening test in Redditch and 30% had a post cataract surgery checkup in Alcester.  Her eye is healing beautifully and she can relax and look forward to her planned two night stay at a Spa, starting tomorrow.

All of this excitement resulted in a fairly long snooze on the sofa, before I headed out around the Three Miler with Bobbyn and the dogs.

That just about covers Tuesday's comings and goings apart from the fact that Bubbles has managed to pick up a couple of very inexpensive, but favourably reviewed, Fly Fishing outfits from the Middle of Lidl.  We both had a fly fishing lesson back in April and thoroughly enjoyed it.* We fancy another go, but didn't want to spend a fortune on equipment that will only be used infrequently. The thirty quid outfits seem ideal, so it looks like we will need to plan another trip up to the trout lake.

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* and the trout we caught, which I baked in a jacket of breadcrumbs, chopped smoked bacon and lemon zest. 

Bacon Everywhere

 After a weekend spent smoking bacon, today's mission was to get the loins and belly sliced and packed.

It took me a few minutes to get everything prepared and I was making inroads in to the bacon mountain shortly after 30% headed off for a manicure.  It is a slow repetitive process and processing the meat took the best part of five hours. After slicing the rashers are divided in to 8 oz portions and these are vacuum packed, before being frozen for later consumption.

The final score was 17lb 8oz of back bacon, 2lb 8oz of streaky bacon and just under 8oz of lardons. For the mathematically disinclined that amounts to over 20lb of dry cured, smoked bacon and doesn't include the 10oz of rashers that are wrapped in clingfilm in the bottom of the fridge.

After clearing up*, I took a well earned snooze and then pottered for the rest of the afternoon. Ingredients were thrown in to the bread maker and buttons were pressed,** plants were watered and grumbles were shared about the current, cool, breezy weather after the lovely sunshine in the last days of June.

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* When I say "cleared up" what I really mean is that the kitchen is free of packing paraphernalia and the work surfaces are visible. I still need to dismantle and clean the slicer, but that can wait a day or two.

** Some people would say that they "made bread", but that seems like gross exaggeration to me. The machine does all of the work.

An Ulterior Motive

 This morning I unwrapped the two cured loins and placed them in the tea chest smoker.  It is barely big enough and they hang barely a centimetre above the smoke generating tray.  I got the smoker lit early and 30% and I went about our morning.

30%'s high level plan was for us to meet up with Michelle for coffee and take in a garden centre.  This plan evolved and we took in a local aquatics establishment and this really got us thinking about pond options up in the orchard. They had a large pond with beautiful marginal plants including the quite splendid Gunnera.  This really got us thinking as we have had recent conversations about the options for a wildlife pond up there ... let's see how this evolves.

After coffee, cake and pond viewing we headed over to Golls Nurseries for a wander around their displays with Michelle. She is new to gardening, but very keen and we did our best to impart what little horticultural knowledge we have.

Back at home we lunched and I headed out to the larger of the two greenhouses to fit a couple of automatic openers to the roof vents. Hopefully that will help temper the temperatures, which can exceed 45 ℃ on a sunny day.

In the evening we were joined by Bubbles, Bobbyn and their pack of mini terrorists* for dinner. This is where the "ulterior motive" became relevant.  When 30% invited them over she made clear that recompense for dinner would be sought and that recompense would be assistance with moving the new chicken house up to the orchard.

The orchard gateway is a little over 3' wide and the chicken house is a modern recycled plastic ark that is wider still.  Help was definitely needed to carry the large coop. Bubbles and I manhandled it off the pallet and our initial thoughts were that it looked like it was going to be a bit of a pig to move. However investigation of its interior revealed very clever design and the two perches, once installed, protruded from the front and rear of the ark and made perfect poles to carry it up the garden.

Lifting it over the gateway was also less effort than expected and it now sits up under the Bramley apple tree until we decide where to locate it. We have already decided that we may use a clear tarpaulin in an attempt to keep the run dry in the wetter months.

The next step is chickens and we are off to pick up some fertile eggs on Tuesday.

Dinner was lovely and, like perfect guests, B&B left relatively early allowing us to spend an hour or two relaxing before another hectic week of retirement.

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* Three Parsons Jack Russel x Patterdale terriers; Lupin, Luna and Bellatrix**

** Bobbyn is a huge Harry Potter fan.

You can't have too many tealights

 ... or, perhaps you can!

The recent spell of warm dry weather meant that the lawns looked a little straggly and, having procrastinated for the latter half of the week, I finally dragged the ailing porn mower* from the shed and attended to all but the front lawn. I'm glad I did, as the transformation made the effort worthwhile.

Having attended to the garden, 30% and I lunched and tidied ourselves up for a trip over to The Regal in Evesham to see Susie Dent present her Secret Life of Words lecture.

I hadn't been to The Regal for the best part of forty years and it has benefited from refurbishment and a reimagining and now hosts a variety of entertainments from films through to live performances. The seating is now comfortable and well spaced and food and drink are now delivered to your seat.  It is a really pleasant venue and I was very impressed by the whole experience.

Susie's performance was relaxed, informative and amusing and I thoroughly enjoyed it. As someone who has, perhaps, slightly more than a passing interest in words** I was familiar with much of her narrative, but I had a great afternoon relaxing with a large gin and tonic listening to well presented, interesting stuff. 

On the way out of Evesham we popped in to a supermarket to pick up a couple of essentials and one of these was a packet of tealights.  One might wonder why I regarded tealights as essentials and I have to report that this is massive and recent change in my perspective.

Warning! There now follows a rambling and, probably, uninteresting tale ... 

For almost all of the time that 30% and I lived at The Pile*** there was a Tesco carrier bag hung on a hook on the right as one descended the stairs to the cellar.  In that bag were many tealights and I cannot recall a single occasion when one was removed from the bag and lit. The fact that we had so many of the damned things and never bloody used them was a running joke in the family, as was the decision to throw them out when we did the pre-move clear out in the Autumn and Winter of 2020.

Well! Today I finally needed a tealight as my new cold smoking tray was scheduled for delivery. The cold smoking tray is filled with sawdust and a tea light is used to light it. I was keen to get the recently cured bacon smoked hence the elevation of the humble tealight to an essential item. The irony of the disposal of a couple of hundred of them after fifteen years was not lost on the two of us.

A pack of fifty was the smallest quantity available and these were added to our shopping basket. Back at home I eagerly opened up the new cold smoking tray and read through the instructions. I quickly learnt that the tealight is only lit for about two or three minutes to get the sawdust burning and also that a tealight was provided.

We now estimate that I will be able to smoke foodstuffs on a daily basis until I pop my clogs and I will still not run out of tealights.

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* It's really not sounding healthy now

** Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson is a good introduction to the madness that is the English Language.

*** September 2004 to February 2021

Post Script: The new cold smoker worked beautifully on its first trial and the slab of streaky bacon is now hung bathed in smoke in my little tea chest smoker.

Nothing to see here

 It was another quiet day today.

30% headed out to the hairdresser early, and then on in to Worcester to pick up eye drops from the clinic.  While she was out I grabbed a hoe* and headed out to the garden. I spent some time on the many weeds making an appearance in the veg patch, before heading out around the Three Miler with the dogs.

My return coincided with that of 30% and both of us were starving, so lunch was taken early. I had planned a long snooze on the sofa, but this needed to be abandoned when a member of the coven arrived.  I was required to remove a large clump of plants from the large perennial border at the back of the house and transport them to the back of her car.  This was mutually beneficial as "P" is keen to increase her plant stock and we have plans for this area of the bed. There is a repeat flowing geranium and a "Yellow Popsicle" Kniphofia that are currently sat in pots in the holding area. They will look lovely there.  

Before I could even consider planting, I needed to fill the large hole left after removing the plants. This involved a couple of trips to the orchard to collect topsoil and a few mole hills. Mole hill soil is a beautiful loam heaped up as the they work their way underneath the orchard. It was well worth collecting and adding to the soil in the bed.

That was my day, other than an hour of watering and feeding the plants in the greenhouses and vegetable patch. 

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* Sharp bladed garden instrument for removal of weeds, not a lady of ill-repute sex worker**

** Reviewed and edited by the Thought Police

Meh!

 I definitely peaked way too early today and then started a generally downward slide. As it says in the title of today's entry; Meh!

Yesterday 30% blagged a free pallet from the driver who delivered our new poultry ark.  They are a pain in the arse to dismantle,* but they are a supply of free softwood,** so I set to with a hammer and crowbar and spent a merry hour dismantling it.  It produced some reasonable timber and the few split pieces will serve as kindling come the Autumn. We may need a trellis to support the rose and the honeysuckle that have been planted up against Rose Cottage, so that may well be its new purpose.

Having dismantled the pallet, I breakfasted and then seemed to spend the rest of the day attempting to get my smoker to work.  I failed miserably and, in the end, bit the bullet and ordered a cold smoking tray on-line. These are a simple metal tray which is used to hold sawdust. The tray is constructed with a spiral path. One lights the sawdust at the outer end of the spiral and it smoulders slowly towards the centre over the next ten hours.  My current device is similar, but home made by Barbecue Dave. It has worked well in the past, but has always been a little temperamental, so we'll see how the new stuff works early next week.

Apart from watering the vegetable patch I did little else and was feeling somewhat frustrated and demotivated.  I have about twenty kilos of bacon to smoke and slice and am making no progress with this task at present.

I'm certain 30% was relieved when Mr Irritable headed out for an evening of fishing with Bubbles and Ben.  

This evening we were on the Avon at Fladbury and by half past six we were settled down on a large peg in search of barbel and chub.  It sounds so idyllic, but in reality it was an evening of snagged lines, lost rigs and virtually no bites. It is a good job that the conversation was witty and varied. The strong breeze became chilly as soon as the sun disappeared from view and we reeled in our lines a little after ten o'clock. The final score was zero fish caught,*** but I had a couple of half-hearted bites. When I checked my bait as we were packing up it was apparent that it had been well nibbled by a smaller fish, but it was clearly too small to take the 1" cube of garlic marinaded luncheon meat and associated hook.

Once again garlic flavoured bait seems to be the way forward as Bubbles and Bens' curry powder coated chunks were untouched.

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* Especially the removal of all the nails

**My little honey stand by the front gate is a testament to what can be done with a little creativity and a very strong aversion to getting in the car and heading over to B&Q.

*** This is not an unusual score

There's no smoke ...

Christ, It was hot today! It is fair to say that not a lot was achieved in the garden as a simple wander around the vegetable garden was enough to bring on heat induced fatigue.

The day started with a trip in to Bromsgrove for a check up at the dentist and a quick wander around the aisles of Morrisons. I then headed home* and attempted, key word attempted, to smoke the slab of cured belly pork that should, more accurately, now be called streaky bacon.

I set up my tea chest smoker and packed oak sawdust in to the little tray where it smoulders and produces wafts of smoke.  I lit it with a blow torch and blew on it to ensure that it was smouldering nicely, before placing it in the base of the smoking cabinet and closing the door.

After twenty or thirty minutes I checked and the ember had died and no smoke was being produced. I tried other batches of sawdust and even hickory pellets but nothing would take.  I must have attempted half a dozen time, but I couldn't get the damned thing to smoke.

It has worked perfectly on previous occasions, but not today. I gave up in the late afternoon, wondering whether the sawdust was damp and, like a drowning man clutching at straws, put a batch in a low oven to dry.

At this rate I'll be slicing green bacon rather than smoked.

It is fair to say that I was quite frustrated by the inability to get the smoker going and felt that I needed some sort of win. I therefore made preparations for Autumn by lining a couple of large wooden crates with chicken wire. These will be used to produce leaf mould later in the year. I transferred the crates up to the orchard and concealed them behind Rose Cottage. 

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* The large pallet in the car port did not escape my attention ... I guess the new poultry ark has arrived then. 

Thanks for sharing

Today was scorching, so apart from ensuring that the garden was watered little else was achieved. I will however report on this morning's social event.

After the hypothermic visit to Rowberry's Nursery a couple of weeks ago, 30% arranged that we should meet up with the Tweedys for brunch* and today was the day.

The weather was far better and I arrived closer to death due to the passage of time rather than the previous occasion where I was closer to death due to a crashing core temperature. In other words, I was much warmer and in a better frame of mind.

We joined the Tweedys for coffee and, Oh God I've got to say it again, brunch.** It was after a few mouthfuls that things started to go horribly wrong ...

Mrs Tweedy is an opinionated shrew at the best of times and today she decided to inform 30% and I that diabetes isn't really a disability and that we should consider ourselves lucky that it can be treated so effectively.

Now 30% are both Type 1 diabetics and Mrs Tweedy isn't. Our collective experiences of managing the condition over a combined ninety years are nothing when compared to the ignorant bitch's ill informed opinions.  I did challenge her views and she had the fucking temerity to attempt to maintain her argument.

Fortunately Mr Tweedy has far more sense and emotional intelligence and wisely suggested that she continue with her meal.

30% and I were both bloody incensed by this display of complete and utter ignorance and the brass necked attempt to maintain her position when challenged by two individuals with considerable personal experience of the condition.

She is an obnoxious, ignorant, know-nothing bitch with less social intelligence than a chimp that investigates its own turds.

Rant over ... for the moment!

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* Do you really need to ask whether I am a brunch person!  Do I look like a twat that wears sunglasses indoors, at night?  Do I refer to a group of aquaintances as "Guys"? No I do not and neither do I see the need to mess up my calorific intake by either adding an extra meal or partaking of my lunch an hour before normal. 

** I've just had a crawly flesh moment.

Domesticity

 I was out and about early this morning and had a lovely chat with an Uber driver that clearly had no idea that he should stop and give way to traffic that is already circulating the roundabout on the outskirts of Alcester ... the fucking moron just pulled out in front of me!

Anyway, I managed to avoid a collision and went on to "win at shopping".  It was one of those days when I wandered in to my local hardware store and they had exactly what I needed.  Let me explain, the plan for today was to prepare the cured pork loins for smoking. This would involve removing the loins from the vacuum bags, washing them off and patting them dry, before wrapping them in muslin and hanging them to air dry for a few days.

I needed something to ensure that they remain clean and not danced upon by any of my little insect chums, so what could I use?  After being guided to the location of cotton string, the helpful assistant suggested muslin squares. I doubted these would be big enough, but wandered over for a look. In passing my eye fell upon a roll of mutton cloth and the heavens opened and a choir of Angels sang. I grabbed a roll and was delighted that this was absolutely perfect. The mutton cloth is a seamless tube of soft cotton material that can be cut to length.  Its modern use is for polishing, but in the past it was used to cover sheep carcasses prior to them being butchered in to smaller cuts.

Delighted, I grabbed a roll and hurried home.  The rest of the morning was taken up with the cured loins and these are now hanging in the cool of the workshop dressed in their mutton cloth jackets.

The afternoon saw me mentally prepare for the next job by having a quick snooze on the sofa.  I then mixed up a batch of SBK Brush Killer and headed out to spray the nettles in the orchard.  It is not a job that I enjoy as it is very much a "painting the Forth Bridge" type of job. Despite spraying or brush cutting, the bloody things come back with a vengeance and the job repeats.

30% and I have decided that we need to get the ground in the orchard levelled so that we can get it seeded with a grass mixture. The levelling will allow us to use the ride-on mower up there and mowing will encourage a strong sward which will easily outcompete the nettles. The only problem is that the access to the orchard is a narrow gate and a mini digger is about the biggest device we can get up there. 30% has contacted a chap to come over and give us a quote.

I had enough SBK for three batches* of spray and I estimate that I covered about two third of the nettles. The rest of the bloody things can wait for a couple of days.  Hopefully the sprayed plants will have wilted by then and I'll have a better idea of what I have already treated ... fingers crossed.

Back in the garden I joined 30% on the patio and we watched the fledgeling dinosaurs on the feeders in the garden.  After an hour watching young thrushes, greenfinches, robins and great tits, I planted another short row of Spring onions and think that there may be signs of growth in the  3' row that I planted ten days ago.

It was now mid afternoon and, as I put the sprayer away, my eyes fell upon the Horticultural Club annual show signs that are currently sat in the car port. I've recounted the tale of my resignation from my role as co-chair, but the signs are likely to sit here until they need them to advertise the annual show in early September. Two of the signs have damaged posts, so I decided that I would fix the damned things and then I could walk past them without feeling a nagging of responsibility or obligation to repair them. It was a fairly straightforward job to cut and replace the posts from some timber that I had in store, and by six o'clock I was finished and sat in the evening sun with a glass of red wine.

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* 15 litres in total

Prescott

This event had been on the cards for quite a while.

My birthday is in late December, and last year TP presented me with a voucher for us to go to the Classics at Prescott Hill Climb in May.  Unfortunately his work schedule clashed with the event and we, instead, settled on the Prescott Bike Festival which took place over this weekend.

We have been several times over the past few years and the title is self explanatory. It is an informal motorcycle get together in aid of the Blood Bikes Charity. It is an occasion when motorcyclists can apply for an opportunity to run their machine, untimed, up the Prescott Hill Climb course.

The weather was beautiful and, after a wander around the Paddock, TP and I settled ourselves on one of the benches on the hillside and watched the Bikers "run wot they brung".

We saw an amazing variety of motorcycles from modern Super Motards to Classics including a Vincent Black Shadow and several historic racing bikes. 

However our favourite are often the specials and today's winner was a wheelbarrow that had been grafted to the front of a very low slung motorcycle frame. We both awarded virtual honours to the chap that piloted this up hill.  On previous occasions we have seen a rocket powered shopping trolley and even a jet powered hearse, but the wheelbarrow wins by a country mile.

At the end of our day TP headed back to Cardiff to prepare for another week working at Shepperton and I headed back home for a takeaway from China Twon.*

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* This is an intentional typo, let me explain.  For many years our favourite Chinese Takeaway in Alcester proudly displayed and distributed menus bearing the name "China Twon". This was clearly a mistake, an oversight, but we love their food and we have religously referred to the establishment as China Twon ever since we first noticed the glaring error. So, here's a question; is it a typo or a clever marketing ploy? Well the answer is that it was a typo because they have recently, disappointingly, reprinted their menus and corrected the mistake. They will, however, always be China Twon to us.

I ran out of steam

Today's intention was to spray the nettles up in the orchard with SBK brush killer.

Overnight showers had left the vegetation wet, so any spraying needed to be put off until later in the day when everything had dried out.

I therefore started by massaging the cure in to the pork loins and putting on a batch of honey to warm prior to bottling. 

Over the course of the morning I bottled the first batch of honey, put on another batch on to warm and headed out to the raspberry bushes to tie in some of the canes and prune some of the more wayward growth.

By lunchtime I had bottled the second and final batch of honey and had cleared away most of the detritus from that job. I then dutifully gathered up the garden sprayer and SBK and just ground to a halt.

I decided that the weather seemed to be looking good for the next week so the spraying could wait. I, instead, hit the sofa for a good ninety minutes and awoke feeling almost refreshed. My waking coincided with the arrival of a sub-sect of the coven.

I would be home alone this evening as 30% had arranged to see a showing of the Rocket Man film with live orchestration in the Birmingham Symphony Hall.  As she and her coven left, Bubbles turned up and it was time for some edumacation.  Over the past year Bubbles has been teaching me to fish and he has been attempting, and failing, to teach me to shoot clay pigeons for much, much longer.  This evening it was my turn to be Yoda ... 

Bubbles has always wanted to learn to ride a motorcycle and Bobbyn had bought him a voucher for his Motorcycle Compulsory Basic Training (CBT) course as a birthday gift.  Bubbles was really excited, but, by his own admission, he was also very nervous as he has never ridden a motorcycle before.  I had therefore offered him a pootle up and down the lane on my Moto Guzzi V7 Stornello to get him used to the controls and basic riding skills.

Well! Despite his nerves he took to it like the proverbial duck to water. After a couple of tentative, feet barely off the ground, first gear runs up the lane, he finally had the confidence to take on the advice that everything is easier if you just go a little bit faster. He was soon confidently riding up and down the lane changing through the first couple of gears and making very controlled stops.

He was absolutely delighted with the introduction and well pleased he should be. We then had a leisurely natter about riding gear whilst enjoying the evening sun in the garden.

I am pretty sure he will be back for another couple of rides before his CBT on 10th July. I also wouldn't be surprised if he makes an offer on my R nineT as soon as he passes his test.

Odds and Ends

Friday was one of those days when I seemed to be on the go all day, but on review it was just a series of little jobs.

I started out by putting a batch of honey in to a hot water bath to start the bottling process and then massaged the bacon that is curing in the fridge.

I then headed out to the tomato greenhouse and was appalled by the mass of chickweed that covered the soil. It's a shame that we don't have chickens yet, as they would have devoured the sweet green shoots. Instead, I set to with a hand hoe and cleared the mess around each of the tomato plants.

This gave me a chance to inspect each plant, nip out any side shoots and tie them in to their supporting canes.

By the time I had just about finished in the greenhouse the honey needed attending to, and I spent the next half an hour bottling the 6 lb batch.  I have another two batches to bottle before I reach the bottom of the 30 lb tub I bought from Pete last Saturday.

The afternoon saw a trip in to the village. 30% seems to be having a pain free recovery, but she is not yet able to drive, so I was invited to a meeting of the coven in Sheila's garden. This was obviously just an excuse to ensure 30% was able to attend, but I had a fun time listening to the gossip, checking out Sheila's garden and partaking of coffee and cakes.

After a pleasant couple of hours sat in the sun, we headed back home and took a siesta. On waking I extracted the streaky bacon from the fridge. This slab of belly pork has been curing for four full days and is, most definitely, bacon by now.

I cut open the vac bag and extracted the slab of green bacon.* I rinsed off the remaining cure under the tap and then patted the bacon dry. It was then carefully wrapped in a muslin sheet and hung up to air dry.  I will leave it for four or five days before smoking it.

Apart from watering the veg patch, that pretty much sums up my day.

On a final note I can report that the carrots have sprouted and I am DEFINITELY going to need to thin them out.  Despite diluting the seed with silver sand, I have 5 yard long rows of very densely planted seedlings. I estimate that I should either half the amount of seed used or double the length of my rows.

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* Green Bacon: Bacon that has been cured, but not smoked.

Mostly sitting down

 I had blocked out my agenda for today as I would be accompanying 30% in to Worcester for her cataract surgery.

We spent the early part of the morning making sure that the garden was watered before leaving well ahead of 30%'s appointment time. The early departure was so that we could call in at Jules' house to proffer birthday greetings and gifts. Coffee was drunk, gossip was exchanged and then we headed down in to the city, parked and wandered in to the clinic.

30% was seen promptly. Drops were applied to her right eye to dilate the pupil and a rather fetching black arrow was drawn on her forehead to indicate the eye to be treated. She was then sent out to wait for the eyedrops to take effect.

We were both under the impression that we would be in and out of the clinic in about an hour.  Unfortunately this was not the case. Despite the actual procedure taking only twenty minutes, we ended up being there for a good couple of hours due to complications with the patient immediately before 30%.

I amused myself with an extended period of people watching as the clinic looks out over a busy pedestrian thoroughfare leading to the High Street.  I found it quite fascinating to just watch little excerpts from peoples' lives as they wandered, cycled, ambled or strode down the fifty yards of pavement in front of me.

30% was eventually escorted in to the OR and twenty minutes later she reappeared. It had all gone well and after receiving various eyedrops and post-op guidance leaflets we headed home.

A siesta followed a late lunch and I was rudely awoken just before five o'clock by my 'phone. 

It was Bubbles asking if I was still on for an evening's fishing.  30% had confirmed that she was happy to be left at home alone, so I threw my fishing gear in the back of the Defender and headed over to Barton for an evening's fishing on the River Avon.

Our chosen spot is a lovely little meander on the river that is just downstream from the lock and weir. This was our first evening of river fishing in 2024 and, as we set up our gear, we voiced our hopes for monster barbel so strong that they would almost pull our rods from our hands.

We had a lovely evening and learnt something quite interesting. We were ledger fishing using a hair rig and our chosen bait was 1" cubes of luncheon meat. Last year Bubbles was insistent that luncheon meat marinaded with curry powder was the best bait and we did manage to pull a few fish from the water with it. He had therefore turned up this evening with that concoction.

I had gone for an alternative of luncheon meat marinaded with garlic paste and we decided to see whether there was any difference ... There most definitely was!

From the outset I was getting far more attention on my bait and, after I pulled a small chub* from the river, Bubbles switched bait.  In less than ten minutes he had a fantastic bite that was probably a large barbel. Unfortunately the fish broke free leaving an empty hook. Bubbles, ever the optimist, was simply delighted that he now knew that there were barbel for the taking on this stretch of the river.

After changing to the garlic infused bait his bite rate increased significantly.

We fished until eleven o'clock and then headed home. Both of us were delighted in a great start to our 2024 river fishing season with a catch and a new bait identified.

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* Possibly 1.5 lbs and about 9 or 10" in length

Sods Law

Today's primary objective was to clean the BMW.

Neither 30% nor I can bear to part with the Defender, despite the current Vehicle Duty of £735 per annum.   We appreciate that this is an astronomical fee, but it is such a cool, imposing vehicle with real road presence. We just love trundling around in it, so cannot bear to sell it. It also brilliant when it comes to collecting loads of top soil or collecting rotorvators, as it has in the past few weeks.*

However common sense has prevailed and the BMW estate has been sorned and will be put in the car port for the next few months until we both remember how comfortable, warm and delightfully smooth** it is and it will be reinstated as our preferred vehicle for a good few months.

I appear to have entered a weird phase of my life where I alternate between two vehicles depending on the season ... Oh, and one of the motorcycles if it warm, sunny and dry ... and I don't have to carry anything!

Right, I seem to have wandered away from the story line there.  The plan for today was to wash the BMW before I put it away in the car port.

The pressure washer was connected to both power and water and the car was given an initial blast to clean the worst of the Winter grime from its bodywork. 

The sun then decided to show its face and my plans were buggered.  All of the cleaning products I had planned to use were quite clear in their instructions. The paintwork needed to be cool and the products should not be allowed to dry on the car. There was no way I could snowfoam or shampoo the car until the sun went in.  

Basically, and somewhat perversely for the UK, the sun had stopped play!

I checked the forecast and cloud cover looked like it would increase in the afternoon, so the rest of the morning was spent clearing some of the crap that had accumulated in the carport over the past 12 months.  The trailer was sheeted and parked up and the diverse items of garden paraphernalia were put away.

Eventually the weather cooperated and I was able to continue with my car cleaning. A snow foam treatment was applied and washed off and I then filled a bucket, grabbed a wash mitten and gave her a thorough clean.  The pressure washer was used to give her a final rinse and I stood back to admire my hard work.

At this point I will mention that the local farmer had decided that today was the perfect day to bale a crop of hay from the small pasture alongside the cottage.  The baling had produced plenty of dust and my beautifully clean car was now covered with little circles of dust as it had settled on my drying car.

Bollocks, it looks like I'll be doing this again in a few days time!

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* Bubbles, a Volkswagen devotee, also loves it and is absolutely convinced that it is the perfect vehicle for our fishing trips.

** It's bloody quick too. She may be a big old bus, but, when she hitches up her  drawers, she can tear off down the road along with the best of them

Parcels

 I received two parcels today.

The first was 75 jar lids that I had ordered yesterday. In the intervening 24 hours I had managed to totally forget that I had ordered them and was, therefore, a little concerned at the rattly, broken sounding box that arrived this morning.  After identifying the contents I was amazed at the speed of delivery and, if I could have been arsed to leave a review, it would have been very positive.

The second parcel came in a box that was about 50cm x 50cm x 25cm.  Once again, I was a little perplexed at what I had ordered. I opened the large box and was presented with a lot of shredded cardboard packing material. After routing around for a moment or two, my hand fell upon the box of plant fertiliser that I had ordered a couple of days ago.

I looked at the packet of fertiliser, looked again at the box it arrived in, and did a swift mental calculation. I swear that the box could have easily held twenty packets of Phostrogen!

It was bloody ridiculous. "Brown paper and triple twist twine are the preferred media"* and they would have been more than adequate. Instead I got packaging more appropriate to a priceless relic.

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* Thanks Tommy! A prize may be awarded if the source of this quote is identified correctly.

Good News & Not So Good News

 The first event of the day was to accompany 30% on a trip to the Optometrist in Worcester.  She would be having her pupils dilated as part of the examination and this precludes driving for about six hours afterwards.*

The Consultation went well in that she has been booked in for cataract surgery this coming Thursday. This is impressive as the surgery will be eleven calendar days since she first consulted an Optician about her eyesight. The speed of referral and operation scheduling is, quite frankly, amazing.

30% was also delighted when the final comment from the receptionist, after booking a slot for her Op, was "You won't be cooking or doing any cleaning for the next few weeks".

Back at home I massaged the pork that is curing in the fridge and then started to process a batch of honey that needed to be warmed, filtered and bottled.  Over the course of the day I managed to process a further batch of honey and now have twenty, eight ounce jars to be labelled and put out for sale.

I also completed this week's lawn mowing marathon with a forty five minute wander up and down the front lawn. It all looks rather neat and tidy now, although I am seeing signs of weeds ... where's my hoe!

The final activity of the day was a wander out on the Three Miler with Bobyn and the dogs. We had an amusing conversation about our comings and goings since we last saw each other and one of the topics had us in stitches.  I shouldn't really go in to detail but the punchline of this conversation was that she "does watch other things".

I also caught up with Grandad Jack courtesy of WhatsApp and was saddened to learn that he is about to start a course of chemotherapy.  He is, understandably, shocked and terrified by his diagnosis and we both did our best to avoid the subject at all costs. I took the piss, sent him much love and offered him large quantities of home cured bacon as soon as he felt up to it.

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* Many years ago a nurse explained the reason for this. The belladonna based substance dilates the pupils to facilitate the examination of the eye. However, it prevents the construction of the pupil for several hours afterwards and this is the key point. If one were involved in a car accident after having ones' pupils dilated post accident checks will include a medic shining a bright light in to each eye to check the pupillary reflex.   Obviously the belladonna adversely affects the reflex and may result in the medic incorrectly diagnosing a pressure related brain injury.  The treatment may involve many holes being drilled in to the skull to relieve the non existent pressure.

All Mondays should be like this

This morning I took the two loins and the slab of belly pork from the fridge and gathered various implements.

The basic method of making bacon is very simple. The pork loin, or slab of belly, is laid on a large tray. Generous handfuls of the cure mixture are massaged in to the cut of meat and my approach is to then vacuum pack* it, although zip lock bags or sealable containers will work just as well.

As just mentioned, the cuts of pork are inserted in to bags and a couple more handfuls of cure mixture are added. The bags are then sealed and placed in the bottom of the fridge. For the next week the loins will be taken from the fridge each day and will be massaged and flipped over. The belly pork has the same treatment, but will only need four or five days as it is much thinner than a pork loin.

Starting the cure took much of the morning and a spell of gentle pottering** took me through until lunchtime.

In the early afternoon I dragged the mower from the shed and cut the back lawn. I had every intention of doing the same at the front, but heavy, grey clouds and half a dozen drops of rain convinced me that a downpour was imminent and the mower was put back in the shed.

Further pottering ensued, which turned in to an internet search on the best way to put fishing line on to a reel. Half an hour, an arbor knot and a bowl of water later, I can report that my new Shimano reel is replete with 12lb breaking strain line and ready for the next fishing trip.

As afternoon turned to evening I clambered in to the Defender and headed over to collect Bubbles and Ben. We had arranged to attend the last North Cotswold Hunt Supporters Clay Shoot of the year up at Blockley.  We had an amusing evening in beautiful countryside, attempting to hit forty clays.

Surprisingly, Bubbles was well off his usual form and, for the first time ever, I actually managed to equal his score of 25/40.  Ben kicked both of our arses with a fine 28/40 ... for a beginner he is far too fucking good!

The evening ended with a trestle filled with pork pie, sausage rolls and other fabulously unhealthy food.  We filled our faces before heading down from the Cotswold escarpment back in to the Vale.

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* Many years ago we purchased a little vacuum packing unit. It came with a couple of rolls of heat seal plastic bags. This is basically a plastic bag tube on a roll. One cuts off the length that is needed to make the required size of bag and seals one end.  The item to be vacuum packed is then put in the bag and the open end is inserted in to the vacuum packer. A vac & seal button is pressed and all of the air is sucked from the back and the open end is heat sealed. They are an absolutely brilliant device for home freezing as the produce never gets freezer burn.

** Gentle Pottering: a catch all term covering a multitude of skives. These can range from watering the veg plot to putting away an item that has been left on display for so long that it bears a couple of millimetres of dust and at least one abandoned cobweb.

Not a Completer/Finisher today

The weather was a little more seasonal today and, after a few indoor jobs, I did get to experience a few rays of sunshine.

On return from 30%'s shopping trip yesterday, she had proudly presented two full loins of pork. Our supply of bacon is running low and a cure has been discussed for a few of weeks. It now looks like I will be making some bacon in the next couple of days. *

The loins will make some fabulous back bacon and there is a slab of belly pork in the freezer that will make a good few rashers of streaky too.

First job this morning was to mix up a batch of cure. The following ingredients were assembled;

• 500g Salt
• 500g Soft Brown Sugar
• 25g Black Peppercorns
• 25g Coriander Seeds
• a good handful of Bay Leaves
• 2 Star Anise pods
• A few Juniper berries

The spices were ground with a hand blender and then thoroughly mixed with the salt and sugar. This was bagged up and will be rubbed in to the pork tomorrow when I actually have time to get the pork cure underway.

I also cleared the foam from top of the 30lb tub of honey that Pete dropped off yesterday. Again, I didn't have the time to start to clarify, filter and bottle the honey. That too will need to wait for another day.

At lunchtime we headed over to 30%'s brother's house for a joint celebration of the ELF's birthday and Father's Day. It was a pleasant enough do, perhaps a little formulaic, but we had a pleasant lunch and chat before we needed to head home.

30% had planned a trip to Birmingham to see a musical performance of The Wizard of Oz with one of her friends, leaving me home alone this afternoon.

First job was to plant out four tomato plants that we had picked up from a local nursery on our trip out this morning.  For some reason one of my tomato plants has wilted and is now dying, while its neighbours are flourishing. I can see no signs of insect or other infestation and am at a loss to understand its demise.  My approach was to simply remove the dying plant and replace it. I also filled a couple of gaps in the greenhouse with the other new plants.

I was now on a roll and dragged the porn mower from its den. I was well in to the afternoon at this point and settled on just mowing the lawns around the greenhouses, the garage and the verges at the front of the cottage. The front and back lawns can wait until tomorrow.

By the time I had put the mower away it was definitely time for a glass of wine and dinner. I settled down with the dogs and realised that I had managed to start three different jobs today and finish none of them.

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* The bacon cure is becoming an annual event. Over a period of about two weeks a pair of pork loins will be dry cured for about a week, followed by air drying for another week. They will then be hung in a little "tea chest" smoker and cold smoked over smouldering oak sawdust for about 24 hours. Finally the bacon will be sliced, vacuum packed and frozen for consumption over the next year.

A lazy day.

 The forecast for today was rain, lots of rain, so any gardening plans were put on hold.

30% headed out for a supermarket visit and I headed to my desk with the aim of locating a few documents for the FAs. Well, one thing led to another and, before I knew it, it was lunchtime and I was about half way through my on-line tax return for 2023/24.

I still have a few points to clarify, but I hope to have finished the damned thing in the next week, or so.

Just as I was finishing lunch, Pete C called at the house.  Pete is a local beekeeper and it was he who provided me with the bucket of honey that I clarified and bottled for sale at the end of April.  I have managed to sell about 24 lbs of honey from my little roadside stand in the past six weeks and Pete arrived with another bucket of honey in hand.

This is probably an appropriate point to cover the current situation with the bees, or rather lack of them! I've already mentioned that I was virtually housebound for a good chunk of last year and, although I attempted to inspect my bees, there was no way that my condition would allow me to maintain my colonies.

I had four or five hives and each of these needed to be inspected once a week. Each inspection would take a minimum of twenty minutes and, as the colonies took on nectar and pollen, I would be moving honey supers weighing 20+ kilos. I did attempt an inspection early in the year, but only the one. I just couldn't do it.*

My bees were left to their own devices and, unfortunately, by the time I was able to take a look in the Autumn, all of my colonies had swarmed and left the hives empty. The vacant frames were crawling with wax moth larvae and they had eaten their way through the comb leaving behind a mess of frass and untidy webs of grubby silk. It was a very depressing task to burn the frames and dismantle the hives.

Pete was aware of my misfortune and had promised to sort me out with another colony. Over the past couple of months he has been trying to find a colony for me, but the one he has selected, is being problematic.  We had a pleasant hour discussing honeybee management and the options for sorting me out with another colony.  One way, or another, Pete is confident that he will get me started again by the Autumn.  

Obviously I will not be harvesting honey this year, so will be a honey re-seller through until next year, or possibly the year after.

The afternoon faded in to evening and we headed over to see my Alcester Mum and Dad and join them for dinner. We had a lovely evening catching up with each others' news and it was a great way of finishing our lazy day.

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* The rigours of a honey extraction are even more physical and involved. If I couldn't manage colony inspections there was no way I could have harvested a honey crop last year.

More Planting.

 First job of the day was to plant the cabbage and French bean plants that we purchased from Rowberry's yesterday.

This took a good chunk of the morning, as the cabbages needed to be netted to keep the pigeons and butterflies away and teepees needed to be constructed to provide support for the beans. 

The veg patch is filling up quite nicely, but there will be plenty of  room for the peas and beans that 30% sowed this afternoon.

I also sowed a few seed in the larger of the two raised beds. We bought some Spring Onion seeds yesterday and I planted a 3' row. The plan is to plant a 3' row each week for the next few weeks to give us a longer cropping of these tasty little bites.

Our gardening was interrupted for a brief chat with the FAs before we returned to the plot. I managed to clear the weeds from the final square yard of path up by the well and can therefore mark this job as complete ... until the little buggers start growing again!

Hypothermia!

 The plan for this morning was to head over to Rowberry's Nursery to meet up with Mr & Mrs Tweedy.

This seemed like a great idea, as a day of rest was in order after our recent gardening exertions. Fortuitously it would also keep us out of the unseasonably cold weather.

I'm not a fan of the cold, so having never visited this establishment before, I asked 30% whether it was an indoor or  outdoor experience.  She informed me that it was an indoor premises, so I stupidly assumed that a coat would not be necessary.

We arrived and partook of coffee and cake in the cafe before venturing out ... KEY WORD there "OUT" in to the polytunnels that formed the accommodations for an absolutely splendid array of plants.  The only problem was that the polytunnels were open ended and a biting wind blew down each and every one of them.

After an hour, or so, of wandering I was fucking freezing* and not in the most positive of moods. It was fair to say that I was relieved when lunch was mentioned and we, again, retired to the cafe to eat whilst wrapped in emergency silver foil blankets.

This is not a disparaging report of the nursery. It was fantastic. It's just that next time I would like the temperature to be a little less Baltic.

Back at home we stayed indoors away from the wind and were joined by Bubbles and Bobyn for dinner. It was Bubbles' birthday on Sunday and this was a belated celebration of his 35th.

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* actually it was after about 3 minutes of wandering that I was hypothermic!

An Offering to the Hedgehog God

 I spent most of today on my hands and knees.

This wasn't a day of worship and offerings* at the alter of the great hedgehog spirit Ar 'n Tuith,  and my back wasn't playing up either.**

Instead, I returned to the overgrown path at the front of the cottage, the clearing of which, I started at the end of last month. Previously I had cleared the path as far of the front door and now I had another twenty, or so, feet to get to the end of the path by the well.

It is fair to say that it was a long job, but it now looks really good. The only slight annoyance is that I gave up as a result of fatigue at about six o'clock in the evening, leaving about one square yard left to clear. The completer / finisher in me really wanted to complete the job, but a sit down and a glass of red wine was just too persuasive.

Clearly my offerings to Ar 'n Tuith were not well received and my request for eternal stamina was ignored ... Well, bollocks to him, I'll try worshiping one of the Badger spirits instead!

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* Juicy beetles, probably.

** Although it may well be tomorrow.

If you build it ...

Prior to the fox attack last Summer, our chickens were housed in a decrepit old shed with an attached run.*  We took the decision to re-home the surviving birds and not to replace them until we had a more secure home for them. That was in February 2021 and I have already mentioned that 30% and I managed to dismantle and burn the old coop in the Autumn of last year. 

This left us with no chickens and no coop ... up until today!

30% has ordered a poultry ark and it should be with us in seven to ten days time.

She is already reaching out to suppliers of fertile eggs.

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* The shed was already in a decayed state when we moved to the cottage* in February 2021 and I recall that TP and his girlfriend spent the first morning up there with cable ties, hammers and other tools to make the crappy old shed almost habitable for poultry.

Planting out at last

I was out early this morning for a trip over to Droitwich to see the Consultant Optometrist. 

Once I was back at home I headed out to the newly tilled vegetable patch with watering cans, pegs, a line and a trowel and finally set to putting some plants in the ground. Since moving here I have become really quite taken with growing vegetables and they really do taste so much better than the produce at the supermarket. It may be down to the varieties or just that the veg is fresh taking literally minutes to go from plant to plate.

We are nowhere near sufficient, but, all being well, the freezers will be filled with surplus produce over the next few months and we will be able to delight in soup made from home grown tomatoes and frozen fresh runner beans well in to next year.

I put in a row and a half of celeriac* and eighteen runner bean** plants with their requisite bamboo teepees.  

It all looks beautifully neat and ordered at the moment, but I am well aware that the bloody weeds will be poking up the moment I turn my back.

Note to self: get 30% to reach out to Bev and Dawn and arrange for us to go over and pick up some horse shit to mulch the bare earth.

While I was planting, 30% has been hard at it in the orchard and has cleared a huge amount of deadwood from the top, right hand corner, which was left when we had the hedge laid back in the Spring of 2021.

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* 20 plants that I have raised from seeds, Var: Ilona 

** Variety: Lady Di.

A Bonfire in the Orchard

30% and I spent much of our time in the orchard today. The weather is unseasonably cool, so our plan was to complete a task that would ward away the chills.

Our goal was to have a bonfire and deal with the large pile of stems and branches abandoned there after the Winter fruit tree pruning.  Over the past few months a dense mass of stinging nettles and docks had grown up through the pile and it was certainly overdue for clearance.

We have a metal cage about 5' in length, 4' wide and about 3' high. It is great for bonfires, but was already heaped his with weeds and other material from our gardening activities.

Phase 1 was to drag out branches from the nettle patch and cut them in to reasonable lengths. After about an hour we both had a couple of good sized piles, so I grabbed matches, a cardboard box filled with shredded paper and about an eggcup of heating oil ... Despite the wind I had the fire lit with a single match and 30% and I started to pile on dry wood.

We soon had a blazing fire, hot enough to burn the damp herbage previously piled in the burner along with the pruned wood.

Whilst we were working the dogs alerted us to a visitor at the gate. It was my adopted dad; Buzzer who had come to pay us a visit and invite us over for dinner on Saturday evening. We caught up on each other's news whilst drinking coffee and warming ourselves by the bonfire.

30% needed to head off to the Opticians in the early afternoon, so I piled the fire high with the last of the brush cut grasses from my orchard clearance last month and then attended to an odd hole in the orchard.

Now the orchard is far from an even piece of ground, but there is this weird hole about a foot deep and about three feet square. It is regular in shape and it looks like someone might have attempted to dig a very shallow pool at some point in the past. All I know is that it gets concealed by the rampant growth of grass and herbs and I fall in to the bloody thing on a regular basis.

We had some topsoil spare, so it has now been filled and I scattered some grass seed on it.

If you could see the rabbit hole ridden, rough patch that is our orchard, you might think that gallons of herbicide and a bulldozer would be a more appropriate tactic. You might be right, but I'm tempted to have a play with the new rotorvator and see if it is feasible to get parts of it levelled and grassed ... I can always hire a mini digger later if I need to.

Notes on Carrots

I found time today to get some carrots planted in the smaller of the new raised beds.

In previous years 30% has grown carrots in containers and her approach has been to sprinkle on the tiny seeds and water.  Thinning has not been her thing, leading to very closely packed plants. The result has been tasty, but tiny, little carrots no bigger than one's little finger.  They have been perfect for dipping in hummus, but not really worth the effort to prepare and cook.

This time I decided to take more technical approach, but found that details were lacking. 

These notes are to help me work out what went wrong later in the season.

It is said that silver sand acts as a diluting agent and enables the tiny seed to be more evenly distributed along the row.  I found an internet resource that suggested that a quarter of a teaspoon of seed be mixed with a cup of silver sand, but there was no advice on what length of row this should sown in to.

I ended up distributed my sand/seed mixture evenly over five rows, each of which was about 3 feet in length. The seed was sown at a depth of about half an inch.

I should see results in about ten days, so fingers crossed that the bloody pigeons keep off them.

The Rotamatiser!

 First job of the day was to tender my resignation as co-chair of the local Horticultural society.  I used to get paid quite handsomely to deal with sarcastic and petty wankers, but I certainly wasn't going to that for free as a volunteer.  

The abridged version of events was that a poster redesign took place.* The abomination was distributed with a request for feedback and I provided a couple of comments** instead of tearing the thing to shreds and doing it myself.

The designer*** decided to get pissy and questioned my understanding of design and finished off with, if you think you can do better, do it yourself.

The society is a real ball ache and, in my opinion is at the end of its life. I have tried making a number of suggestions to encourage new membership and make the club more accessible and inclusive, but these have been met with indifference and a strong desire to continue doing things as they have always been done.

They had therefore given me an easy way out and I politely resigned, pointing out that I was not a good fit for a committee where common courtesy falls by the wayside when requested feedback is given.

I have subsequently received an non-apology from Mr Pissy, recognition of my organisation skills, ideas and enthusiasm, followed by requests to reconsider my decision ... Yep, they can go and fuck themselves!

Now on to important matters ... The Rotamatiser. 

After topping up the larger of the raised beds, 30% and I headed over to Tewkesbury to the commercial premises of Gizzy and Jules.  When we last met up they advised than an elderly acquaintance had a rotorvator for sale at a very attractive price of sixty quid.  We leapt at the offer and then the old Duffer went cold on the idea and decided that he would hold on to it ... arse!

However, a couple of weeks ago Gizzy got in touch to advise that the Rotamitiser was now definitely available and we leapt again.  We spent a lovely morning catching up with G&J and the Rotamatiser looked in great condition. It even still bore the little label from its most recent service.

After an hour or so of coffee and chat, we loaded the little red beast in to the back of the Defender and headed back home. A quick lunch was eaten and the little monster was unloaded and plonked in the veg patch.

An hour later I can report that it is awesome in a wrestling with a bear whilst trying to excavate to the centre of the earth sort of way. It was certainly a work out, but the results are amazing. The vegetable garden is now a tilled masterpiece and I am just a little sad that events and weather have meant that we have missed the planting window for some of our favourite crops. 

Still, not to worry, we'll find something to grow that isn't beetroot or Pak Choi.

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* and it still looked like an eight year old had been let loose with a desktop publishing application

** I really was restrained, surprising, I know! I suggested we decide on either left or centre justification rather than both and that we tidied up the final elements at the base of the poster relating to sponsors and access to schedules.

*** This is stretching the definition of that word to a monumental extent

Filling our time

 Here's a two in one Journal entry after a couple of jam packed days.

Friday, 7th June

Bubbles and Ben picked me up just before nine o'clock and we headed over towards Ledbury for a practice session on the clay traps at Long Ridge Shooting Ground.  I have only been once before and it certainly hasn't got any easier. 

It is CPSA registered shooting ground which means that it is of a standard suitable for hosting national competitions. *

It is fair to say that I struggled with some many of the birds and I was certainly glad that we weren't keeping score.

I was home early in the afternoon and hitched up the trailer, once again, before heading over to Weston Subedge for the final load of top soil.  I then spent a frustrating hour, or so, on Horticultural Club admin before tidying myself up ... 

... Bubbles had arranged a barbecue for this evening and we had a lovely time centred around salads and grilled meats of many varieties.

Saturday, 8th June

Today was another day with Bubbles and Ben.

This time we had arranged for a day's fishing over at the Lakes in Harvington. By quarter past eight we had purchased three pints of maggots and were setting up our equipment on the edge of the Boundary Pool whilst merrily taking the piss out of each other.

I nearly failed at the first hurdle when my reel jammed, but Bubbles fortunately had a spare and I was soon  drowning maggots in the cool morning air.

Bubbles also decided that we should have a competition for the most fish and the heaviest weight of fish caught, and I was off to a good start when I landed the first fish of the day, a small but handsome 3lb common carp.  I then caught a couple of small Bream before Bubbles brought in a rather nice Perch.  Poor Ben looked a little downhearted as we three were only spaced over about fifteen yards of the bank, but he wasn't having any luck at all.

Bubbles and I were neck and neck before he went ahead just before lunch with six or seven caught to my five.** Ben eventually got lucky with a decent sized bream and he even managed to use the landing net to sweep up a large mirror carp that was idly cruising at the surface just in front of us.  We teased him that he couldn't count that his as he hadn't caught it with a rod and line.

We fished until four o'clock, but we had very few bites after lunchtime. It was, however, pleasant to sit in the sun and talk nonsense for most of the day.

30% and I were out again this evening, visiting the Palace Theatre in Redditch to see a performance by Back to Bacharach. As the name suggests, we were treated to a performance of hits from the song book of Bert Bacharach performed by a seven piece band with four different vocalists.

It was a really great event and the very capable musicians and vocalists certainly did justice to the works of a very talented man. 

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* i.e. Bloody hard!

** My catch was a carp, two small bream, a small tench and an eel, which was very wriggly and quite freaky in its ability to wrap itself around anything it came in to contact with.

Pottering & an infrequent visitor

30% had gone off with a sub-sect of the coven this morning for trip around Hidcote Gardens.  I was left to my own devices and pottered around the greenhouses; watering, pinching out the side shoots on the tomato plants and tying in the tomato vines to the supports.

The afternoon started with a little snooze before I hauled the porn mower from its lair and mowed the front and back lawns.  The attentive reader might recall that the self drive failed on the mower a week ago and I can certainly state that I miss it.  It was quite a workout having to provide the motive power to cut the grass.

I decided that the lawns around the garage and greenhouses could left for another day and retired to the house for refreshments.  As I was sat stroking Hobson I noticed a strange little lump on his leg. Initially I thought it was a skin tag, but as I examined it I realised that it was a tick, quite a large tick!

A quick Google session followed, leading to me digging out my old dissection kit and locating a decent pair of tweezers. Hobson was an absolute star and settled quietly so that I could grasp the vile little parasite where its head entered his leg and pluck it off.

They really are an unpleasant creature that is little more than a flabby grey sack about 6mm long with tiny legs and mouthparts at the very tip. I disposed of the tick and checked all of the dogs just in case.

That just about covers Thursday apart from a walk around the Three Miler with Bobyn and this time we managed to remain dry.

I do have a post script relating to an event earlier in the week. I forgot to mention that on Monday I was leaning on the garden gate having a chat with Sheila, who was on her constitutional around the lanes. As we chatted we both heard a familiar, but now infrequent* sound ... we heard a cuckoo calling.  We both commented that neither of us had heard a cuckoo in years and it was lovely to hear one once again.

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* Apparently cuckoo numbers have declined by at least 65% since the 1980s.

Back Story

 This morning I had a check up arranged with my Spinal Consultant at a hospital in Stourport. 

As I got my shit together* a team of roofers arrived to install a dry valley in the junction where the 1970s and 1980s extensions meet with the original cottage roofing.  We have had an intermittent leak in the redundant chimney in the kitchen and our roofer thinks that this will, hopefully, remediate the problem.

I left the roofers to it and headed off for my check up.  The Consultant was pleased with the condition of my back and we agreed that there was no treatment needed at present, other than over the counter painkillers when necessary. I'll see him again in six months, or sooner if it all goes horribly wrong!

At this point I'll bore you with the back story to my bad back ... Sorry, another fucking awful pun.

In early February 2023 30% and I had been out in the garden doing something. I can't, for the life of me remember what the task was, and there ain't much that needs doing at that time of year. Anyway, we finished the now forgotten task and headed back in to the warm where I fell asleep on the sofa.

When I woke about an hour later my back felt dreadful and I put it down to sleeping in an awkward position due to Whiffler taking up more than his fair share of the settee.  I took painkillers and expected the pain to subside over the next 24 hours, but it didn't, it got much worse!

Within the space of 2 days I had gone from being relatively fit and active to being virtually housebound.  The pain was incredible and strangely manifested itself in the lower back and in shooting, burning pain in my left shin. This was so bad that I couldn't stand for more than five minutes and I couldn't walk for more than fifty yards without having to sit down.

Over the next six months I had many consultations with my GP and Physiotherapists. Their approach was to fob me off with ever increasing strengths of pain killers and tell me that it would get better on its own, rather than refer me for any diagnostic tests.  At its worst I was taking nerve blocks and high strength painkillers** that made little impact on the pain. They just made me incapable of staying awake for more than three hours at a time.

At this point I should commend 30% for her patience and care. She kept the whole household on course and did her best to deal with the most miserable, evil tempered patient ever. 

It is fair to say that being immobile and housebound at the age of 59 with no diagnosis or effective treatment plan was incredibly worrying for both of us.

Whilst I was not able to walk very far, I was able to drive so I signed up with a local Chiropractor; had a few sessions and dutifully followed an exercise regime she designed for me.  After a couple of months we realised that there was no significant improvement, so she referred me to a private imaging company in Cheltenham for an MRI scan.

The scan was completed and I was soon in possession of the Consultant Radiologist's report. I now had a diagnosis. I had a bulging disk between the L4 and L5 vertebrae and also foraminal stenosis on the left side of this joint.  Foraminal Stenosis is a degenerative condition and basically means that a nerve branch that exits the spinal column is being pinched ... hence the crippling pain in the left shin.

I now had a diagnosis after 6 months and was able to get referrals*** to see a Consultant.  A number of treatment options were outlined from an epidural with steroids to back surgery involving removal of bone material and the insertion of a titanium cage to support and tie together the offending vertebrae.

It was agreed that we would start with the epidural steroid injection to control the pain. Interestingly as I was going through the arrangements to have this procedure I noticed that my back seemed slightly better. I was moving slightly more easily, I was sleeping through the night and needed to take far fewer pain killers.  

This was around the beginning of September and over the next six or eight weeks I had the epidural and my back pain diminished. By October I was relatively pain free, but incredibly unfit after eight months of inactivity.  From that point on I have been doing my best to regain a degree of fitness and improve my activity.

The outlook is uncertain. My Consultant is very happy with the current state of affairs, but cautions me that there is every chance that the nerve could become inflamed and put me back on my backside again. All I can do is keep as fit as possible and be very sensible when lifting heavy object ... like sleepers for raised beds!

Having finished that health report I'll quickly finish today's activities.

The roofers finished in the early afternoon and 30% and I headed off to Weston Subedge for another load of topsoil. That has now been transferred to the large raised bed and, as predicted, another load will be needed to top it off.

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* I failed at the first hurdle when, about ten minutes from my destination, I realised that I had forgotten my wallet.  I then offered many prayers to the Gods of car parking that the payment machine would be out of order.  I then rationalised that this was an NHS appointment at a private hospital and no private hospital would charge their paying customers!

** Amitriptylene and Tramadol

*** By this point in time I had qualified for the Private Health scheme of my employer