Rain stopped play

My plan for today was to finish weeding the vegetable garden and spread some bark chips around the raised beds. The bark would serve as a mulch against the weeds and also be a barrier between footwear and wet soil.

Right! I had a plan! However the chicks needed their brooder cleaning and various other little jobs* needed to be attended to before I finally hit the veg patch.

By mid-morning I was on my knees weeding and making reasonable progress. Within a couple of hours the rain started to fall, and it appears that I am, most definitely, a fair weather gardener. There is no bloody way that I am going to be on my hands and knees in the mud in the pouring rain. I'll happily work in the greenhouse when it's soggy and I'll even put a coat on and prune in a shower, but hand weeding in a downpour ... no way!

Having lost my gardening mojo for the day I headed indoors and spent some time preparing, blanching and freezing a couple of batches of beans** from the garden. 

The veg patch remains unfinished, but a little progress was made and there's always tomorrow.

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* Tomato plants to tie up and a shelf that needed to be taken down in the larger of the greenhouses ... apparently it was interfering with the Marmande tomatoes

** French & Runner Beans. They are beautiful cooked fresh from the garden and they also freeze really well.

An Advent Calendar for the older generation

 All oral medicines should be chocolate coated or, at least, be flavoured and textured like jelly beans.  The reasoning behind this decree will follow shortly, but first the news of the day.

30% was out early this morning. She had a day planned with the extended coven.* They had a Group Rover ticket for the Gloucestershire and Warwickshire Railway and planned to harass and bemuse the inhabitants of Broadway, Toddington, Winchcombe and Cheltenham at various points throughout the day.

I was left  home alone and finally got my arse in to gear to attend to the rather weedy vegetable plot. There is no way that I can make hand weeding a 15' x 35' plot interesting, so I will simply state that it consumed the day. I can also report that my knees were bloody sore by the time I shuffled back in to the house.

Now it's time to turn to flavoured medication. 

I have reached an age where I need to take a daily pill or two.** These are nothing concerning; vitamins, antihistamines and a couple related to being a type 1 diabetic. However, I do need to remember to take the damned things and I generally have far more exciting things to think about other than "have I taken my pills this morning?"

30% came to the rescue and purchased me one of those dosette boxes. For the younger generations, a dosette box is a clear plastic box with seven separate lidded compartments. Each compartment is annotated with the day of the week. One places their medications in the appropriate compartment and can, at a glance, see if they have taken them.

Basically it is like an advent calendar for old people. Hence, my original premise that all oral medication should be a tasty treat ... I think you will find that it is the law that advent calendars must contain a tasty morsel behind each of the doors!

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* The local Women's Institute

** Christ! Writing this makes me seem really old. I don't feel old, so let's settle with mature or more accurately immature.

Not much to see here

 Today was one of those days when I didn't seem to do much, but I was busy all day.

At this point there is an interjection from 30% "The two hour kip this afternoon was you being busy, was it?".  This criticism is a little harsh, as she also had a mega nap.

In brief, I had blood tests down at the local surgery first thing and the dogs were taken to, and collected from, the Groomers at each end of the day.

I've already mentioned the extended early afternoon sleep, so that warrants no more page space. I also dug some rotted manure and bone meal in to the herbaceous border that I cleared yesterday. Continuing on the subject of gardening, the second crop potatoes, that were planted ten days ago, have shoots showing above ground. They will need to be earthed up tomorrow ... and there is also a massive amount of weeding needed in the veg patch.

I also picked a couple of portions of French beans, which were prepped, blanched and frozen within an hour of picking. This is the first time that we have grown French beans and I'm really impressed with the vigour of the plants and the quantity of beautiful, long, slender pods. If they taste half as good as they look we will be in for a treat.

An extended spell of watering took place as we have had no significant rainfall for quite some time. We must be getting this right as everything in the vegetable garden is flourishing ... including the bloody weeds.

We went exploring

 Another walk this morning and, this time, 30% set the route.

I tend to be quite unimaginative in my walking* and tend to plod around the Three Miler with the sole aim of getting the dogs walked and myself exercised. 30%, on the other hand, is far more adventurous and will explore the lanes and paths. She will often return and recount her walk and I won't have a clue where she has been.

Well, today we turned left out of the cottage and walked to the top of the low rise. We left the road and took the footpath along the crest of the hill.  She then directed us through a spinney and three or four interconnected paddocks. It was a lovely walk, but there is a "but". 

I learnt that my good lady is absolutely brilliant at finding new walks but she has no bloody sense of direction. Our walk became an out 'n back because it wasn't possible to loop back via the bridle path as she had originally planned. As we reached the aforementioned spinney 30% attempted to direct us down a non-existent path, despite me pointing to the route indicated by our footprints left in the grass no more than forty minutes earlier.

Our afternoon was spent working on the large bed of herbaceous perennials in the back garden. One end of the bed was dominated by a huge clump of Day Lillies (Hemerocallis) and they desperately needed to be cleared to make room for other plants.

It took most of the afternoon to clear the two or three square yards of plants, dig over the soil and do my best to remove the roots and rhizomes.** The next step will be to refresh the soil in the bed with rotted manure, compost and bonemeal, before planting our Agapanthus and Iris.

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* We think this might be a consequence of my working life. I would find an hour to get the dogs walked, but would generally need to get back to my desk fairly promptly. This became an ingrained habit and I did the same walk, knowing how long it would take.  Clearly, I now need to break this habit.

** I have a strong suspicion that I will be removing plantlets for years to come!

Mostly Mowing

This morning 30% and I took an early morning walk over the rise and down the lane towards the bridge. It is probably little more than a mile and a half, but the dogs loved it, tearing along the verges and sniffing the scents from the nocturnal wildlife.

By the time we got back home, the dew had lifted and it became clear what the remainder of my day would look like.

The shed was unlocked, the lawn mower was wheeled out and that was it. I spent the rest of the day mowing the lawns. The garden looks pretty good at the moment and a neatly clipped lawn really finishes it off.

A casual observer might note that there are a few strange clumps of uncut grass on the front lawn and on the verges in front of the cottage.  The reason for these unmown tufts is that they are where the cowslips grow. I love these delightful little flowers and do my best to encourage them.  Although the flowers bloom very early in the year, their seeds do not mature until late July or even early August. Hence the plants need to be left uncut until now, several months after their petals have dropped.

Well, August has finally arrived and I have checked the now scruffy tufts. The cowslip seeds are mature and many of the plants have already shed their seeds.  I was now able to mow the lawns without having to skirt around the tufts .... Avoiding the tufts a pain in the arse, but, I think, worth it to see the cowslips again next Spring.

A guest arrives

Yesterday evening 30% was perusing Facebook Marketplace and asked if I needed a workbench.  Before proceeding with this narrative I need to clarify a couple of points.  

1. I have two matching workbenches in the workshop and a dinky little carpenter's bench in the garage.* I am also about to build a potting bench for 30% in the shed. 
2. This is a redundant question, of course I need another workbench.

I took a look at the advertisement and saw a rather nice engineer's bench with what looked like a Record vice bolted to the top. It is fair to say that within thirty minutes the bench had been viewed, hands had been shaken and we had arranged for me to pick it up this morning.

So, the trailer was hitched to the Defender and it was a short journey to the other side of the village to collect the bench. It really needs a new ply work surface, but the clincher was the No 24 Record Engineers bench vice with quick release mechanism. The bench and vice set us back £120, but the discontinued vice model sells second-hand for upward of £150. They are a fantastic piece of kit and I am extremely chuffed to have finally got my hand on one.**

Most of this morning was spent clearing a space and moving the bench in to the garage ... Christ, it was heavy!

In the afternoon I headed over to Childswickham and met up with Bubbles and Ben for a round of clay shooting.  I wish I hadn't bothered. The course was a nightmare and I shot appallingly.  To make matters worse Bubbles had agreed to combine a shooting lesson with our round.  The tuition was a significant interruption and the delays just added to the frustration of a very poor shoot.

I followed Bubbles home, as we will be having a guest for the next few days. Bubbles and Bobbyn are off to Edinburgh for the Tattoo and we have been asked to look after their senior terrier; Lupin.*** She is a delightful little dog and is sat on my lap, demanding affection, as I write this.

It was a matter of minutes to bundle her luggage in to the Defender and we were soon heading back to the cottage. Lupin knows our house and three dogs really well and it is a recurring joke that, upon arrival, she just treats the place like her own home. 

She settled in without any fuss and has spent the evening curled up on her bed, the sofa, the other dogs' beds, our laps ... in fact anywhere she likes!

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* In need of some refurbishment

** I have perused engineers vices on the internet for a couple of years, but have been put off by the price of a good one and poor reviews of the cheap ones.

*** They have a house sitter taking care of the other two dogs, but felt that looking after three would be "too much for them". We are also well aware that when all three of the terrors are together they have a tendency to scrap, and I mean SCRAP!

Faery Beefs

Today's first mission was to head in to Alcester and pick up my new specs. A trip that should have taken no more than an hour ended up consuming the entire morning and included massively prolonged conversations in a bakery and the jewellers ... I'll leave it to you to work out which one of us was in desperate need of extended, but pointless conversation ... if you need a clue, it wasn't me!

Anyway, we eventually arrived home and were chatting in the sun, when a thought occurred to me ... what do faeries actually eat?

I mulled this over and thought that maintaining flight with those tiny wings must required one hell of a calorific input ... thoughts of hummingbirds did come to mind and I wondered whether dewdrops sweetened with nectar was the favoured faery juice?  This train of thought continued and I started to cogitate on the dietary preferences of faery folk. Pollen bread and mushroom based foodstuffs seemed like possible faery comestibles, but, after a long, hard day flying around granting wishes,* I'll wager that they really fancy a burger.  There is already literary evidence of faeries stealing milk from cows, so we know the little devils aren't vegan.  The references to theft also suggest that they are far from "pure and fair" and, clearly, no strangers to mortal transgressions.

I think it's a short stretch from nicking milk to vegging out on a comfy toadstool sofa with a dirty burger grasped between faery fingers.

The next question is where do the faery folk get the beef for the burgers?  One might be tempted to assume that they steal it in the same way as they do the milk. However, a moments thought highlights the weakness of this theory.  A faery attempting to dispatch and butcher a bullock of killing weight is probably the equivalent of humans whaling.**

I'm pretty sure that people would start to notice missing cattle, or dead beasts with little nibbles taken from the finest cuts, because there is no way that the faeries would be able to consume, or cache, an entire Bos taurus carcass. 

My research has identified that the faery folk actually have their own cattle or Faery Beefs. These are somewhere between a pigeon and a duck in size and look exactly like a miniature cow apart from sporting a fine pair of wings.  They can be a pest in parts of the country when huge flocks of them descend on, and devastate, young crops of wheat and barley.

They also make a dreadful mess if they crap on your car when they are flying over.

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* or exchanging milk teeth for coins of the realm

** Mind you, a crew of faeries manning a steam punk, flying abattoir ship does have a certain visual appeal

"On Trend" in the garden?

 Over the past few days we have cleared a neglected border alongside one of the outbuildings and have been left with a dry, narrow bed. The soil is very shallow and impoverished, so it badly needs to be improved and, if possible, made deeper.

Our plan was to add edging that would enable us to increase the depth of the soil, but none of the options available from local establishments were particularly attractive. We did, however, notice that galvanised metal, particularly corrugated, galvanised metal seems to be very popular at the moment. Many of the garden centres and nurseries are displaying vast arrays of galvanised metal containers, both new and vintage.

This must have tweaked something in my subconscious as I remembered that we had a few small sheets of galvanised, corrugated iron sheeting up in the orchard.

I grabbed one, and after a couple of measurements I realised that, if I cut it in to 8" wide strips, they would be perfect to form an edge to the border. They would also allow us to add compost and manure, raising the soil level, improving both the soil quality and its moisture retaining ability.

After twenty minutes with an angle grinder the 24" by 30" sheet was cut in to four strips and I was ready to try out my design.

It worked beautifully. The strips of corrugated iron don't reduce the width of the bed and they interlock, making them simple to install and tie together. The corrugations also add rigidity, so we will be able to add compost and manure, increasing the soil depth without fear of the edging collapsing.

The edging looks great alongside the brickwork and I am feeling quite pleased with my low cost, up cycling solution.

Everything is growing beautifully

We were both up before six this morning and, after an early breakfast, we got started with the day's activities.

Mission #1 was to give the hatching eggs a good clean in egg sanitiser before placing them in the incubator and starting off the next twenty one day incubation cycle.  I then continued in the poultry vein, cleaning out the brooder and ensured that our first batch of chicks had plenty of food and clean water.

I then headed out to the orchard where 30% had applied herself to weeding the pumpkin patch. In the past couple of months the pumpkin plants have run riot. After a slow start they suddenly put on a growth spurt and the six plants have now completely taken over the old poultry run and are pushing out vigorous shoots across the grass. Pumpkin fruits are starting to form on the vines and the largest of which is close to eight inches in diameter.

We spent a good couple of hours placing tiles under each of the young fruits to lift them clear of the damp earth and reduce the risk of rot. We also cleared the remaining debris from the now demolished chicken house. This old shed appeared to have been built on a foundation of railway sleepers, loose bricks and whatever else came to hand. I swear I even extracted an enamel dish and a baking cooling rack from the ground this morning.

With the another part of the orchard decontaminated, we lunched and then headed in to the afternoon.  30% "headed" straight to bed for a nap, and I wandered over to the computer and attempted to find inspiration for yesterday's Journal entry.

After taking it easy during the heat of the day, we wandered back out to the garden. I thinned the beetroot seedlings to ten centimetre spacings and then mowed a strip in the orchard, where 30% wanted to clear and prune. After a few minutes of this, we both decided that it was far too hot for manual labour and, instead, decided to head off in search of edging for the small bed we cleared on Monday.

The bed is shallow, narrow,  dry and its soil is impoverished. We would like to install edging that would allow us to increase the depth of soil, but everything we looked at either wouldn't work or looked bloody awful.  In the end I decided that I might be able to do something innovative in a rustic fashion with some corrugated iron that is kicking around in the orchard ... I will either be feeling smug or bloody frustrated, depending on how that pans out.

In other gardening news; the tomato crop has now started to ripen and we have tasted the first of the Bloody Butcher fruits. They are tasty enough, but not as good as Alicante in either flavour or vigour. I can also report that the Spring cabbage seedlings have already started to shoot, barely four days after planting ... not bad for seeds that passed their expiry date three months ago.

To wash or not to wash?

 Today I seemed to be mostly collecting fertile eggs.

In the morning 30% and I headed over to Stratford-upon-Avon and whizzed around the supermarket before heading across town and on to Snitterfield.  Our destination was the Domestic Fowl Trust, where we were supposed to collect twenty Crested Cream Legbar hatching eggs.

Unfortunately, the laying birds had not read the order properly and there were only fifteen eggs available ... and many of those were pretty grubby. The chap at the Trust was very decent about this and halved the price of the eggs. He also threw in a good few kilos of medicated chick crumb, so it would be churlish to be anything other than complimentary. 

As we headed home I pointed out that we would have five spare spots in our incubator and we might as well try to fill them.  The man at the Trust had mentioned Newland Poultry over towards Malvern, so I gave them a call.

It is getting towards the end of the poultry breeding season as the parent birds will soon start their moult, but Newland Poutry managed to scrape together half a dozen "Olive Eggers" for me to pick up later in the day. Olive Eggers are a cross breed from Marans and Crested Cream Legbar parent birds. They will, as the name suggests, lay olive green eggs once they mature.

Having collected the eggs, I left them to settle overnight, planning to start the incubation tomorrow. However, as mentioned earlier, the Legbar eggs were pretty dirty and, obviously, the incubator is the perfect environment for bacteria to grow. Should I wash the eggs, or not?

An internet search followed and left me none the wiser. Some sources state that washing the eggs in a proprietary egg disinfectant solution is the way forward. Others say that it damages the egg's protective cuticle and is the action of a madman.*

In the end I decided that the eggs would be washed before incubation. It'll be interesting to see how thing pan out in twenty one or two days time.

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* Many years ago I recall collecting a Minorca egg from a very muddy run. The egg was literally plastered with mud and other chicken run filth. I clearly remember that I incubated the egg and it hatched successfully, and I am pretty certain that I would have washed it first.

Cleaning & Tidying

 The chicks are doing really well and first job of the day is to check that they are OK before refreshing the newspaper lining of the brooder and ensuring they have clean water* and plenty of chick crumb.

After cleaning the chicks' brooder, I attended to the cleaning and sterilisation of the incubator. This was timely as 30% has arranged to collect a batch of Crested Cream Legbar eggs tomorrow morning.  I was amazed at how grubby the incubator was considering the chicks were only in it for less than sixty hours. Every surface was covered with a fine dusting of down and the base was littered with shell fragments and chick faeces. 

As I washed and sterilised the components my thoughts turned to an acquaintance of ours, who is an incubation addict.  She will set batch after batch of eggs without ever cleaning her incubators. I often wonder what her hatch rates are and whether her chicks are impacted by being hatched in such an environment?**

Cleaning and reassembling the incubator took most of the morning and the afternoon was fairly leisurely. 30% and I cleared a small, shallow border alongside one of the outbuildings. Until this afternoon it was planted with a scruffy rose that refused to flower, a poorly fruiting raspberry and several Stinking Iris plants.

Our plan is to plant a couple of Lupins in the bed, but, having cleared it, I wonder whether Lavender might be better suited.  The bed has very shallow soil and is also very dry.

Whatever we plant there, it will need a lot of care and attention until it is established and possibly beyond.

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* The chicks may be precocious, meaning that they require no parental care, but this precociousness seems to be combined with an innate ability to crap in any food or water container less that five minutes after it has been refreshed.

** Mind You, it can get pretty rank under a broody hen! That is definitely NOT a sterile environment and naturally hatched chicks seem to do OK.

Guests

 We don't see M&M that often, but when we do it is always great fun.

After our last get-together in Winchcombe, we had arranged for M&M and Nova* to come over for lunch and a leisurely afternoon.

That day had finally arrived and the weather was absolutely perfect for al fresco dining. 30% spent the morning preparing a huge feast of salads, cheeses, charcuterie and nibbles, whilst I spent a couple of hours mowing the orchard.

M&M arrive around one o'clock and we had a wonderful afternoon out on the patio laughing, eating and drinking.  

They are a little overprotective of Nova, but she is their "first baby" and we'll allow them their  new parent insecurities. 

Hobson was an angel and played beautifully with her. Dog #4 came out had a sniff and a bit of a play before returning to her bed and staying out of sight for the rest of the day. As for Whiffler, he did feel the need to show that he was top dog and did attempt to hump Nova a few times. This did cause a few concerned dashes across the garden to protect her innocence.

We could see that it was a dominance behaviour, mostly to show Hobson who was boss, unfortunately M&M were worried that Nova would be defiled.

Oh well, hopefully they will relax more as she gets older.

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* Their six month old Labrador pup

Hailes & Gardening.

Saturday was another busy one!

I was out of the house before eight thirty and headed over to Evesham to collect Bubbles.  We then drove over to Hailes and had a splendid morning clay shooting.  The weather was absolutely glorious and it is one of the most attractive shooting grounds that I have ever visited.  From the stand at the top of the hill there are splendid views north west across beautiful countryside towards Dumbleton and beyond.

I had a couple of appalling stands, but, overall, was reasonably pleased with how I shot. My score was 52/96.*

Clay shooting consumed the morning and first task of the afternoon was to plant a row of second crop potatoes.** I've not planted spuds so late in the year and it'll be interesting to see how they perform. If the packaging is to be believed we will be able to have Charlotte new potatoes with our Christmas Lunch.

30% and I then headed out towards Powick. We have set our hearts on a water feature comprising a mill stone with a bubbling little fountain at its centre. 30% had found a local Architectural Antiques dealer with a potential stone and we were off to check it out.  When we found the dealer we were surprised to see that it was a house that we had viewed about four or five years ago when we first put The Pile on the market. At that time we rejected the house because it was very close to a busy road and this time we rejected the mill stone because it was cast concrete, rather than the real thing ... the search continues.

Back at home I returned to the greenhouse and planted some Durham Early Spring cabbage in seedling plug trays. These will be grown on, transplanted in to pots and will be planted out in the veg patch later in the year.  They will spend the Winter under cloches and should provide some lovely Spring greens by February.

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* The Hailes shoot is twelve stands with eight clays at each.

** Maris Peer and Charlotte varieties. Ten seed potatoes of each. The Maris Peer were planted at the end of the row closest to the path through the veg patch.

Chick Update

It is time for the results of our recent incubation. We set twenty eggs on the Fourth of July. Ten were from Cuckoo Marans and the other ten were from Norfolk Grey chickens.

The eggs were due to hatch on Thursday 25th, but the first chick, a cuckoo Maran made its appearance on Wednesday.

By Thursday morning a couple more had hatched and the end of day total was five.

Friday was a busy day at the Game Fair, but we checked the eggs before we left, and ten were cheeping and staggering around the incubator. 

On our return we checked again and no more had hatched. As we were now a day over the normal twenty one day incubation, we decided it was time to open up the incubator and take a look. We also transferred the hatched chicks to a Brooder pen, providing food, water and an electric hen to keep them warm

One further egg had pipped, but the other nine were still intact. I float tested* these and none seemed show any indications of containing a hatching chick.  All of the eggs were returned to the incubator.

On Saturday morning no further eggs had pipped. The one egg that had pipped had cracked further but the chick was struggling. 30% stepped in and assisted the hatch. The youngster was left to dry off and recover from the exertions of hatching.

By Sunday we transferred the last check to the Brooder pen and turned off the incubator. The final total was eleven chicks; six Norfolk Greys and five Cuckoo Marans.  A fifty five percent hatch rate isn't great, but it could have been a lot worse. Now we need to wait a few weeks to see how many pullets we have.

Oh, and 30% is already scouring the internet for another batch of fertile eggs!

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* Float testing: If a hatching, but not yet pipped, egg is floated in warm water, the movement of the chick stirring inside the egg will jiggle the floating egg. No jiggling suggests that the egg is either infertile or the chick is dead in shell.

The Game Fair

 We were up early this morning and, after a quick breakfast, we whizzed around the garden and ensured that everything was well watered.  Next on the list was to take the dogs for a short walk to make sure they were emptied!

Then we all bundled in to the Defender and headed off down the A44 to Blenheim Palace for this Years Game Fair ... basically an excuse for a commercial extravaganza wrapped around a theme of Hunting, Shooting and Fishing. 

We had a lovely day, parts of which were spent with Bubbles and Bobbyn. The weather was just perfect, dry and sunny, but not too hot for the dogs. As for the dogs, they got many compliments and caresses ... mostly accompanied by statements to the effect of "it's so nice to see proper poodles rather than doodles and cockapoos!"

Having three large dogs meant that most of our day was a wander around and a general viewing rather than intense scrutiny of any of the events, demonstrations or commercial outlets. However, we did end up ordering a case of some splendid wines and a replacement cheese knife was also purchased.*

We headed home at about four in the afternoon. We had had a lovely day, but we both agreed that it is a far better event when it is hosted three miles down the road from home at Ragley Hall.**

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* How the hell do you loose a bloody cheese knife?  We had a little beauty, but it simply disappeared about 6 months ago, never to be seen again. We are both blaming TP for that crime!

** The Blenheim organisers haven't got a fucking clue about car parking or signposting within the venue.

Busy Day

Today was always going to be a busy day.

We have chicks hatching in the incubator, but they don't demand a lot of attention. In fact, the worst thing one can do is to open up the incubator for a better look. We just needed to be patient and leave them to hatch in their own time.

So, off we went to Alcester for eye tests. 30% was due for her post cataract surgery check up and all was good. We hope that the second operation, scheduled for October, will go as smoothly. As for me, I had my last eye test in February, but I felt that my vision had deteriorated and wanted to check that all was well. It turned out that my prescription had changed and, by the end of the session, my wallet was three hundred quid lighter as readers and long distance spectacles were now needed.

We had a fun time choosing specs, and then headed down the high street to the show shop to return a pair that 30% had gifted me last week.  They were lovely sandals, but they just didn't fit correctly, so back they needed to go. Again, we had a super time with the sales assistant* and found a pair that fitted perfectly and also a replacement pair of Josef Siebel Max mules ... my slipper of choice.

With our Alcester trip completed we headed back home and had a hasty lunch. We then headed over to Pershore to pick up a pair of teak Steamer Chairs that 30% had found on Facebook Marketplace.  They will be perfect for the garden, needing only a new set of cushions. I might give them a rub down and oil over at some point over the Winter, but, for the Summer, we can put up with their slightly worn appearance.

Back at home we both collapsed and snoozed for an hour before Mr and Mrs Tweedy arrived for afternoon tea and a peep at the hatching chicks. Mrs Tweedy was at the better end of her irritability spectrum today, so we had a reasonable couple of hours catching up on 30%'s family news.

Bobbyn arrived shortly after their departure and we headed off around the Three Miler with the mutts. More peeping at chicks followed, before I collapsed on the sofa with supper.

As for the chicks, the end of day count was five.

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* She made it quite clear that we could take as much of her time as we liked and that she was quite willing to bend over backwards ... basically do anything but be involved with the mother and two boisterous children that needed new trainers.

Cut out the middle man?

 This morning 30% and I headed in to Redditch to pick up some supplies from a local Feed & Tackle Store.  30% failed to find a suitable poultry drinker and I emerged from the fishing tackle section with my wallet £20 pounds lighter.

That was the point where I should, knowing what I know now, have just thrown the twenty quid straight in to the river ... or a convenient bin.

The day rolled on and minor jobs were completed. The high spot of the day is that a couple of the eggs in the incubator have started to pip.  The young chicks have managed to make an initial chip in the eggshell, but it will be several hours before they manage to break free.

Now, back to fishing and fishing tackle. This evening I headed over to Fladbury and set myself up on a peg near the bridge, as suggested by Bubbles. Over the course of the evening I was, once again, subjected to inane and deeply uninteresting trivia from the workshop of the local Volkswagen dealer. I also managed to loose not one, but two sets of tackle on an underwater snag and had barely a bite all evening. By ten o'clock I was quite cold and decided to pack up my gear ... just as Ben pulled a beautiful chub from the river.

At this point I realised that I could have just chucked the twenty quid straight in the river and spent the evening at home with 30%.

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Post Script: I actually do enjoy my fishing. There is something quite zen about the preparation, the gathering of the tackle, the set up of rod, line, hook and bait. It comes close to meditation. And, as for the hours watching the rod tip, the flow of the river and the rising of the fish, that is incredibly relaxing. And there is also the underlying tension of the potential catch!

It is just that, recently, I find myself somewhat irritated by B&B's chatter. They work together, hence much of the discussion is work related and I find myself excluded. Also Ben is only twenty two and has very little life experience. Consequently a conversation with him tends to be limited ... he is a nice kid, but discourse with him is definitely within boundaries established by his lack of life experience.

Perhaps I need to invest in a landing net and fish on my own peg for a while.

Quite Busy

 A short entry in the Journal today, as I need to be sorting out fishing tackle rather than sitting in front of a screen.

Tuesday morning was spent dealing with vital, but relatively minor items from my to do  list.  The cobweb covered poultry feeders and drinkers were scrubbed clean and put out in the sun to dry.  A moisture trap was placed in the BMW and I prepared some bait* for fishing on Wednesday.

I then extracted my tea chest smoker from the shed and set it up under the carport.  My intention was to smoke a few blocks of mature cheddar.  However, I was going to need to make a minor modification to the smoker to increase its capacity. 

The smoker has a single shelf comprised of removable dowels that is perfect for smoking a block of cheese. However, the cheese I smoked a few weeks ago was very popular and I had orders from Bubbles, a member of the coven and 30% for more. 

I needed to construct and install another removable shelf** in order to accommodate three pieces of cheddar. Fortunately a quick search of the workshop located dowels and a piece of oak that would work quite nicely. A happy couple of hours followed whilst I fashioned and installed the second smoking rack.

The smoker was lit, the cheese was inserted and the timer on my 'phone was set to two hours. 

Whilst the cheese smoked, I dragged The Beast from the shed and finished the lawns, specifically the rough areas around the garage and the verges at the front of the house.

That pretty much sums up my day apart from wrapping and refrigerating the cheese after smoking, a walk around the Three Miler with Bobbyn and the dogs and a lazy night trying to stay awake on the sofa.

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* cubed luncheon meat marinated in garlic paste with a sprinkle of madras curry powder.

** The shelves need to be removable so that the smoker can accommodate two full loins of pork, when I am smoking bacon.

Gardener's World

Today was always going to be a gardening day.  Our potterings over the weekend had identified a couple of jobs that needed attention and my plan was to get them crossed off the to do list.

First job of the day was to check the tomatoes, nipping out any side shoots and tying up the vines as necessary.  As I checked them over I was delighted to find that one of the fruits has finally started to ripen,* a first blush of red.  This is a gardening milestone for us and it seems to have taken an age this year, perhaps due to the mediocre weather that seems to be prevalent. 

I can't wait to enjoy our home-grown tomatoes rather than the frequently tasteless varieties available from the Supermarket.

After tying up the toms I headed out to the raspberry canes. The Autumn cropping varieties are starting to produce long shoots and these needed tying in to the supporting wires. By late morning I was finished and it was time for the first outing of the new Mountfield mower.

I am delighted to report that it mows beautifully and the lawns look fantastic,** having benefitted from the recent showers.

While I was mowing, 30% had been possessed by her pyromaniac alter ego and had an impressive bonfire burning in the orchard. By the end of the afternoon she had disposed of the huge pile of material cleared from the Pineapple Broom Bed, leaving me with another large area of the orchard to attack with The Beast later on in the week.

That's just about it for today, although I will mention that we now only have three days to go until the eggs are due to hatch. The incubator has automatically increased the humidity, slightly dropped the incubation temperature and turned off the egg turning function ... now we wait with bated breath for the first signs of pipping.

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* The variety is Bloody Butcher. This is the first year I have grown it and I am not overly impressed. The plants have not done well, when compared to the other varieties that I am growing; Alicante, Sweet Aperitif, Shirley, Marmande and Gardeners Delight. It may have won the prize for first tomato of the season, but it is far less vigorous than, and will be easily outcropped by, the other varieties.

** Apart from where that fucking mole has been buggering about!

Shattered!

After last night's dinner party it was one o'clock in the morning before my head hit the pillows.

You can, therefore, imagine my disgust when I found myself wide a-fucking-wake four hours later!  Try as I might, I couldn't get back to sleep, so I rose and took a very slow start to the day. As the morning continued I felt more and more groggy. It's not as though I can blame drink as I was the designated driver* last night. 

After re-setting the mole trap** I had to admit defeat and retired to my bed for a desperately needed hour of sleep.  This became a recurring theme throughout the day and further kips and snoozes were necessary at intervals.

The day wasn't a complete write-off though. 30% and I did manage to plant out her pea plants. They are just starting to flower and are now out in the veg patch with a rather professional looking mesh support for the vines.

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* I've actually been off the booze since the beginning of the month.

** Yes, another of the little bastards has encroached on the lawn ... fucker!

Don't count your chickens

 I am well aware that one shouldn't count their chickens before they hatch, but I am also equally aware that one should always be prepared.

With five days to go before our eggs are due to hatch we are making sure that we have everything we need to successfully raise the chicks. Feeders and drinkers have been located and will be cleaned and sterilised over the next couple of days. And much thought has been given to housing the young birds.

For the first six weeks they will need to be sheltered and kept warm, mimicking the conditions that would, under normal conditions, have been provided by the hen.  I have an old wooden brooder box that I built years ago. It is tried and tested, but is very heavy and rapidly developing chicks soon outgrow it. I therefore scoured eBay a few days ago and found a purpose built, easy to clean brooder up for auction. It would need to be collected, but was only about thirty miles away ... so guess what I was up to this morning?

Yep, I won the auction at the opening price of twenty quid and this morning 30% and I headed up the M42 to Coleshill to collect it.  I suppose one of the luxuries of being retired is having the time to find a bargain and then go and pick it up.

On our return we called in at one of the local feed stores and picked up some chick crumb. All I need to do now is get an additive for their drinking water to, hopefully, prevent coccidiosis, and we should have everything we need.

I assembled the brooder in the afternoon and delighted with it. It is light, spacious and easy to clean. All we need now is a successful  hatch.

The remainder of my afternoon was quite lazy.  Rain storms came and went and a planned dog walk didn't happen.

In the evening we headed in to Evesham for dinner with friends. Our hosts were Rosie and Jim and we were also joined by the Tewkesbury contingent; Gizzie and Jules.  The evening started with Gizz and Jules, recently returned from a trip to The States, arriving dressed as a cheerleader and a New York cop. It then descended in to many hours of great food and hysterical laughter.

It was, most definitely a late one!

A long, sweaty afternoon in the sun with a couple of Hos ...

By the end of it I was absolutely exhausted!

Hang on. After re-reading that intro I realise that I may have missed out an "e", or two.

It was another scorching day and, after breakfast in the sun and a stroll around the garden, 30% headed out for supplies and I attended to watering. 

30% returned just before lunch and informed me that "if we can't go to Greece yet, I'm going to bring Greece to us". She smiled and produced a lollipop Olive Tree in a pot and an inflatable paddling pool. Basically it's an instant villa kit ... just add sunshine, a few puffs of air and several litres of water.

30% was out again in the afternoon ... another triple c* session with the coven, so I was left alone. I did what any man starved of company would do and arranged for an afternoon with a couple of hoes.

Yep, I spent a long afternoon in the sun weeding the vegetable patch!

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* coffee, cake and chat

Home Alone

 It was foretold in the stars and the scattering of the chicken bones that I would be on my own for much of the day ... Basically 30% had planned a day out with the coven in Malvern. They would be away for most of the day, as lunch was planned before viewing a musical based on the hits of Dolly Parton.

This left me home alone with a couple of items to be, hopefully, crossed off the to do list.

It was a beautiful morning, and we started it with a gentle stroll around the garden before taking breakfast on the little bench that I have recently moved to catch the first rays as the sun rises over the orchard. 

As 30% made her preparations to leave, I realised that the tomatoes needed watering quite urgently and emptied several watering cans in the greenhouse. This left the water butts drained, so my next task was to unroll the hosepipe, plug in the well pump and refill them.

With my morning, and the water butts, duly filled, I retired to the shade for lunch before starting objective #1 ... nettle spraying.  

Parts of the orchard become thick with head high nettles as the year unfolds and they are a pig to control. I have tried brush cutting but it leaves the roots intact, allowing for regrowth.  My preferred approach is to spray with SBK. It is a selective, broad leaved herbicide that targets nettles, docks and brush, leaving grass unaffected. 

SBK is perfect for the orchard as our aim is to improve the grass cover. We are hoping that a combination of nettle killing and mowing will encourage and improve the grass to a point where we can actually call it pasture.

It took 13 litres of spray to treat the orchard and by the time I finished the last patch I was ready for a kip away from the afternoon sun.

In the later afternoon I gathered my fishing tackle together along with sundry items* and a rather tasty supper, before heading over to Barton for an evening fishing with Bubbles and Ben.  

Well! that turned out to be painful! I spent the evening sat between B&B and had to endure a fucking tedious conversation that tacked from shooting ear plugs to the comings and goings of a Volkswagen Dealership.  I wish I had selected a solo peg and enjoyed a quiet Summer evening rather than listen to their bloody nonsense.**

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* Phone, car keys, fishing permit etc

** To make matters even worse I had forgotten my insulin, so my home made chicken and mayo on wholemeal remained uneaten and my belly rumbled.

The Beast

I had problems getting my act together this morning.  I had jobs that needed to be done, but I just could not get my arse in to gear.

30% busied herself with further tidying of her Pineapple Broom's bed and suggested that we could complete a Tip Run before we needed to head in to Redditch to view the new, old mower.  I grudgingly agreed, fell in to line and soon found myself happily extracting items of garden debris and piling them up by the trailer.

At this point I should probably mention that the previous owner of the cottage was a) a bit of a hoarder and b) a bit of a bodger. The phrase "why do a job properly when you can assemble a half-arsed mess of inappropriate items" accurately sums up his approach. Over the past three years I have removed all sorts of stuff from gaps in the fences and hedges. We assume these were attempts to constrain Archie, their son's Lurcher. And, as for the chicken house, do not get me started on that abomination!*

Right! Back to the Tip Run. Obviously the Porn Mower was destined for recycling and it was joined in the trailer with several large sheets of metal mesh and plastic that had been inserted at various points in our boundary hedges. A few other odds 'n sods were added to the load and off we went to Hanbury tip.

A quick lunch was eaten on our return, before we headed off to Redditch to have a look at the second-hand mower.  It was a Honda engined McCulloch that was originally a self-propelled unit.  Time and some abuse had resulted in the failure of the self-drive functionality and it had been serviced and converted to a push only mower.

It started easily and seems perfect for hacking back the grass and weeds on the rough ground in the orchard. If it only lasts a season it will have earned its keep.

Hands were shaken, money was handed over and the Beast was loaded in to the back of the Defender. We then headed over to Evesham to pick up a prescription and a few comestibles.

Back at home it was time to try out the Beast and it was absolutely brilliant. I spent a merry couple of hours in the orchard and it was only thirst and a need to spray more nettles that brought the fun to a close. 

With a few more hours up there, it will start to look almost civilised.

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* Definitely a crime against carpentry and shed construction in general

How many lawn mowers does a man need?

 Achieving anything significant today was always going to be challenging. 

Hobson and Whiffler were booked in at the Groomers and this meant that at least an hour needed to be put aside at both ends of the day to ferry them to and from Stratford-upon-Avon.  "OK" I hear you say "but that is only a couple of hours, three at most" and I agree, but when you add in compulsory coffee breaks and a definite need to change in and out of filthy gardening clothes, the couple of hours becomes a significant disruption.

So, the day panned out as follows. We dropped them off in the morning and then headed over to Evesham with Dog#4 for coffee and a wander round the shops at The Valley.  That consumed most of the morning.

The afternoon was mostly pottering, but the most significant occurrence was that 30% has made contact with a chap in Redditch via Facebook Marketplace who has a second-hand mower for sale for a very reasonable sixty quid.

"Why the fuck do you need another Mower?" I hear you ask "You already have a ride-on that you rarely use and there is a one day old Mountfield sat in the shed!"  Well, these are good points, but you are forgetting that I blew up the Porn Mower* attempting to tame the orchard on Saturday. There is no way that I am going to expose my Beauties to the wilds of the orchard. 

If I am going to kill another mower it is going to be some cheap, potentially knackered old bastard from The Ditch!

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* God Bless its eternal soul

Out with the old, in with the new

 The forecast for today was torrential rain, which was due to arrive by lunchtime. That had a significant impact on our gardening plans and we ended up doing little jobs that could be easily aborted as the morning showers came and went.

30% contented herself with weeding out in the front, whilst I nipped out the side shoots and trained the tomatoes in the greenhouse. I then headed out to the vegetable garden and planted another row of spring onions and also a row of beetroot in the larger of the two raised beds. The carrots in the smaller bed were thinned about a week ago and are looking fantastic with their feathery foliage, evenly spaced in five neat rows.

In the early afternoon we headed in to Worcester to pick up the new lawn mower and collect a few sundries from the supermarket just over the road from Ron Smith Ltd. We were back home by two o'clock, just as the rain started.

30%'s life is punctuated by coffee breaks. Every activity is either preceded by, or followed up, with a cup of coffee, so our safe arrival home was celebrated with a cup of "instant" before I assembled the mower. 

It didn't seem to be an overly complex job. The push handle needed to be fixed in to place and the grass collection bag needed to be assembled. However, If I am honest, the task was made more complicated by the fucking appalling, infographic loaded, multi language pamphlet that had been substituted for a proper manual.* The booklet covered three model ranges and had model dependent assembly instructions. Unfortunately the diagrams did not make clear which model they for and there were a couple of steps that had to be redone after moments of inspiration, gifted by the deity** of lawn mowing.

As for the grass collection bag, do not get me started! The only reason I was able to get this put together was that I had read a couple of on-line reviews, and learnt that, if assembled inside out, the bag would simply fall apart once it was half full of clippings. It still took me a couple of attempts and a bloody big screwdriver to clip the bag on to its metal supports. What makes this worse is that I rarely use the grass collection bag, preferring to mow in mulch mode.

Anyway, rant over. All I need to do now is to decide on a name for the new mower.

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* A full manual is available on-line, but I am assembling the mower sheltered from the rain in the shed and I am sixty years old. There is no fucking way that I am going to use a tiny phone screen that turns off five seconds after I put the damned thing down, in order to tighten up the next bolt in the assembly process. I want a proper bloody manual that I can put down, open at the correct page and then glance at it when I am ready to follow the next step in the process. Is that too much to ask for Mountfield?

** Worship this all knowing entity properly and make the correct offerings.*** Then you can be certain of fine weather and a dry sward on the day you want to mow the lawn.

*** I have clearly fucked this god properly off as I have recently been stricken with a plague of moles!

Shooting at South Worcester

 A short one today!

In the eight months I worked at my last job I only managed to develop one working relationship. That says a lot about how badly the remote team was managed and it was probably the primary reason why I decided to retire. For someone who enjoys the solitude of home working, it is somewhat ironic that I found it a very lonely job. In every other remote working job I have had, the teams have been well managed and working relationships established with ease, many of them developing in to friendships.

That didn't happen with DXC* with the exception of the relationship with Gary.  A few months in to my employment I was assigned to shadow a deal being led by Gary and within a few minutes of our first phone call we realised that we were both cynical bastards that liked shooting.  The relationship blossomed and we have continued to keep in touch. 

His role in the relationship is to remind me how shit it is working for a living and my role is to piss him off by telling him how great retirement is.

Anyway, today he came down from Nottinghamshire and we went shooting with Bubbles and Ben at South Worcester shooting ground just the other side of Upton-upon-Severn. We had a splendid few hours in lovely sunshine and then headed back here for bacon rolls and a chat.

Once Gary had headed off I had a traditional Sunday afternoon snooze, followed by a very lazy evening.

All in all a grand Sunday!

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* The manager was, at best, a dispatcher who was fucking useless. He loved the sound of his own voice, but hadn't got a frigging clue how to listen or manage and unite a remote team. I realised very early on in my employment that he was pretty clueless and nothing changed my opinion in my time there. He seemed completely disinterested in how I was integrating in to the role and didn't assign me any work for over six months. There were a few nice people** on the team, but there was no opportunity or apparent willingness to develop relationships. It was basically just a bunch of middle aged men with their own assignments under a common manager.

** There were a couple of complete fucking pricks too, but, fortunately, they were relatively easy to avoid.

The King is Dead, Long Live the King

Saturday started with a trip in to Evesham to fill the Defender with diesel and to pick up a couple of bags of chipped bark. These were needed to mulch the bed that is now home to the Pineapple Broom.  En route we passed Golls Nursery and managed to pop in on both the outbound and inbound journeys!  We purchased three lovely little Coleus plants with the most beautiful russet coloured foliage. They aren't frost hardy, but, for the moment, they look lovely in the recently cleared bed.

Mole news; I learnt that the Wikipedia statement about them being "solitary creatures" is complete bollocks! Another of the little sods has created a new molehill barely inches from yesterday's successful trapping.  I've got over my mole killing remorse very quickly and have re-set the bloody trap.

I then dragged the mower from the shed and whizzed around the back lawn and greenhouses.  With the rear of the cottage looking neat and tidy, I decided to take the mower up in to the orchard and see whether it would be feasible to mow it.

At this point I probably need to state that the grass and weeds in the orchard are close to knee height and it is nearly quarter of an acre in size. This is the gardening equivalent of trying to paint the Forth Bridge with 2" paint brush.

Actually, I was very surprised! With the mower set to its highest cut it made a reasonable job of the test area* and both 30% and I were bowled over by how much better it looked.  We had already been talking about buying a second hand mower for use up there** and this trial has demonstrated that simply mowing the orchard vastly improves its appearance and will help to control the weeds and improve the sward.

In the afternoon I was persuaded to take a break from the garden and take a walk with 30% and the dogs. For a change we diverted from the Three Miler and headed over the little bridge towards the next hamlet.  A couple of hundred yards beyond the bridge we turned right on to the Bridle Path and found a delightful, overgrown, but easily passable path with lovely views over the fields.  We walked for, perhaps, half a mile before turning and heading back towards home and supper.

Back at home I decided to mow a little more of the orchard and re-started the mower. It has been making horrible noises for the past couple of outings and, after a couple of yards, it lost power and stalled. I attempted to restart it and, after a few pulls, got it going again, but it was very, very sick.  After thirteen years of faithful service it had finally expired.  Without a single look back, not a modicum of remorse I walked away, grabbed my tablet and got a new mower ordered ... I'll be picking that up on Monday. 

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* About 50 square yards

** Mowing the orchard is going to be very hard on any mower until the ground is levelled out, so I don't want to be buggering up a brand new mower up there.

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