I know I've lapsed again ...

but I've had one hell of a week!

For Christ's Sake, I've cremated my father, attended his younger sister's funeral and wake, been to two gigs and lost a dear friend. I think it's fair to say that we have had a fair amount of shit to deal with over the past few days.

I'll now attempt to fill in a few gaps and get back on track.

Wednesday, 16th October, 2024

I know that I've already covered Wednesday's events but I also managed to complete the first draft of my tax return.  For some reason I procrastinate for months and then, when I finally get my act together, it is far more straightforward than I expect it to be. The draft has been now forwarded to our "chap"* for his approval before I submit it to my former employer HM Revenue & Customs.**

We also and an "intimate evening with Martin Fry" at the Palace Theatre Redditch. For those of you who are unfamiliar with 1980's pop, Martin was the lead singer with ABC and he was touring to promote a recently written autobiography. The evening was a mix of conversation and acoustic versions of some of his hits. It was interesting to find out more about the man and band and his voice is still good. The only observation I would make is that ABC's music was known for it's huge orchestral arrangements and Trevor Horn's production. Acoustic versions are always going to sound a little lacking.

I bought ABC's Lexicon of Love when it was first released back in the 1980s. I still have the vinyl LP and a CD version too. The songs have been part of my life's soundscape for the past forty years and several of them are present on my current MP4 playlists.

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* Our chap is our Financial Advisor. In the final stages of my employment with the Neat & Tidy Piano Movers I discovered that my employer would part-finance the engagement of a Financial Advisor. A very good friend recommended a firm that they had used for many years and we made the call. That was back in April 2023 and we have been amazed at the services they have provided. One of the best days of my life was when we had a consultation after their initial analysis of our finances and expenditure. They simply advised "You don't need to work any more, Badman"

** I was employed by the Inland Revenue SFO from October 1987 through until December 1998. SFO sounds exciting; Serious Fraud Office? Nope, it was the Superannuation Funds Office back in 1987. It was forced to change its name to the Pension Schemes Office so that the Serious Fraud Office could use the acronym ... true story!

Thursday, 17th October, 2024

The plan for today was to take it easy,

I managed to stick with that for about an hour and then headed out to the garden to attack the hedge that borders the arable field upslope of the cottage. The local farmer's hedging contractor had failed to cut the hedges bordering the property and the best view from the house* is becoming obscured by 14' of hawthorn. The farmer indicated that he would get the contractor to return and finish the job, but I doubt the hedge will be cut until Autumn, next year.

I therefore assembled tools and ladders and started to hack a good six or seven feet off the top of the hedge. I still have plenty more to do, but was pleased with the improvement.

The reason for attempting to have a lazy day was that we were out at Warwick Arts Centre this evening. Rhod Gilbert was performing his Rhod Gilbert & the Giant Grapefruit tour and we were joined by Bubbles and Bobbyn.

Rhod's set was based on his recent experiences with head and neck cancer and it was brilliant. It was both hysterical and touching and delivered at an almost manic pace. We loved it and it was definitely needed after the stresses of Tuesday and Wednesday.

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* The best view from the house: This is debatable, but a prime contender is the view when sat on the lavatory in the bathroom.  The view is over an arable field that is uphill of the cottage. The local geography is such that the horizon is only about 150 yards distant. The view is therefore very simple, but very effective. The foreground is a single field that varies from rich brown earth in the late Autumn, fresh green shoots in the Spring and then, as Summer comes, the strident yellow of oil seed rape or, slightly later, wheat and barley turning a dusty gold before harvest. The skyline is punctuated by the silhouettes of a few overgrown hawthorns and all of this is surmounted by the ever-changing sky. The view is eastward, so each morning it is lit by the rising sun and the rising moon greets us in the evening.

Friday, 18th October, 2024

Today was the funeral of my aunt. I'm not one for football analogies, but it felt like a friendly match after the intensity of Tuesday.

Polite conversations were enjoyed at the wake and we used the dogs as an excuse to make our way home midway through the afternoon.

As I reflect on the past week I do wonder if I will encounter any of my family again. This is not as sad as it seems. Over the years we have drifted away and formed new bonds and friendship groups. I have my own family and no problems filling my time. I don't think I miss them. In fact, the thought of being with them quite unsettles me. I wonder if it because they seem to think they have the right to openly judge?

On the subject of new bonds and friendships, we spent the evening with B&H. One might think that a quiet night in might be prescribed after this week, but it was exactly what the doctor ordered. H had cooked a simple, but splendid dinner and we enjoyed laughs and wine with caring and unpretentious company. They are treasured friends.

Saturday, 19th October, 2024

A couple of weeks ago 30% informed me that I was to attend a baking course at the Butter Street Bakery in Alcester.

Basically it was originally a gift for TP,* but his work schedule had not allowed him to attend, so I was his substitute. In all honesty, I didn't really want to go and felt almost coerced to attend. However it was a fun day and Nelson was a charming and lively instructor.

Some of the baking was done in pairs and other items were made individually. I came away having baked a small white loaf, a brioche loaf, a focaccia, a couple of croissants, four pain au chocolat and a couple of cruffins. 

The Defender smelt divine on the journey home.

30% had made chilli con carne for dinner and the olive and sage focaccia was the perfect accompliment.

The other big new for today was that 30% had managed to sell the nine young chickens. We are now a hundred quid better off and only have the birds up in the orchard coop to care for. 

I plan to do nothing tomorrow, apart from letting the chickens out and feeding them!

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* TP is my son; The Progeny and 30% is my wife and better half. I'm not sure why she has become 30%, but, as I have grown to know her over the years, one explanation could be that it is the amount of any task that remains unfinished. She is not a completer/finisher!

A thought on yesterday's funeral

Yesterday's funeral was as is to be expected. Somber expressions, polite smiles, generally dark attire, and positive thoughts and memories about the recently departed.

I am embarrassed to admit that I easily recognised Paul and Carol, my Father's neighbours, but totally failed to identify my second cousin; Judith and friend from my teen years; Winnet.*  Fortunately they were both very kind, saw my lack of recognition and saved any further embarrassment by introducing themselves.

One recurring conversation throughout yesterday was that everyone I spoke to said that there was no mistaking who my Father was and that I was his spitting image.

I'm not really sure how to take this, as I was being repeatedly told that I looked very much like the ninety two year old, lying in an oak coffin at the front of the crematorium!

Only the other day a young lady at the Ophthalmology clinic commented that I didn't look sixty. Fuck me I must have aged in the past few days!

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* This is clearly not her real name, but a cruel nickname assigned to her nearly forty five years ago.  It is a corruption of her surname and has a most unpleasant meaning in these parts. We all found it hysterical at the time and it's still mildly amusing now.

A sad day.

 Today was a sad day. We lost the Wordle Witch. A few days ago she was her normal, smiling, vivacious self, and now she's gone. 

30% and the rest of the coven are, understandably, devastated. And, although my friendship with her was nowhere near as deep, I shall miss her greatly. She was bright, witty and had a permanently sunny disposition. She couldn't help laughing, even when she was extremely annoyed.

I'll always know her as the Wordle Witch, over our shared addiction to the daily word puzzle, now owned and published by the New York Times.  She once made the careless admission that she had used a crossword solver website to conclude one of the Wordle puzzles. Forever after I used to taunt her that she "cheats at Wordle".

She was a permanent ray of sunshine and I hope my memories of her never fade.

Catching Up

Apologies, it's been a few days since I last made an entry in the Journal. Here is a half-arsed attempt to cover the events of the last four days.

Saturday, 12th October, 2024

This was the third early start that week. 

I had arranged to go fishing down at Severnstoke with Bubbles, so I was out of bed at five and on the road before six o'clock that morning.  We had a pleasant few hours on the bank, chatting and catching up with each others' news and this time was untroubled by the presence of barbel, or any other fish species for that matter! We had a few nibble, but neither of us managed to bring anything in towards the bank.

We packed up our tackle early in the afternoon and headed home. I needed a restorative kip before getting myself clean and tidy for a charity fund raising event over at Edgbaston Cricket Ground. It was for the Giles Trust and was themed around the film Grease. We had a great time, including beautiful food, good company and rather too much red wine!

Sunday, 13th October, 2024

Sunday was, shall we say, a rather lazy day after yesterday's activities and alcohol. My most strenuous activity was to dig up the last of the Charlotte potatoes and cut a cabbage from the veg patch.

TP arrived late in the afternoon and would be home until tomorrow afternoon, so 30% "killed the fatted calf" and assembled a huge Sunday dinner for us, including produce from the vegetable garden.

We, obviously, spent the time together catching up with each others' news and plans for the coming days.

Monday, 14th October, 2024

It wasn't the most cheerful* of days, so I decided to have an indoors day. I dug up a celeriac from the garden and spent a good chunk of the morning making celeriac soup for lunch.

30% headed out in the early afternoon to see her Nail Technician and deliver one of our pumpkin crop.** I took another lengthy snooze and spent further time with TP before he headed off home to Cardiff, via a friends in Worcester.

My main activity this evening was to dig out a suit and accompanying apparel suitable for tomorrow's funeral.

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* The day took a turn for the worse when we heard that the Wordle Witch had been taken seriously ill over the weekend and was currently in intensive care with her family around her.  We are both shocked and dismayed that such a vivacious, funny and mischievous friend is so suddenly and so gravely ill. 

** We did very little to our pumpkin plants after getting them established up in the orchard at the end of May and they have done really well. They produced vigorous vines and we ended up with seven good sized fruit. 30% advertised these locally  and all seven have been sold for carving at Halloween.

Tuesday, 15th October, 2024

Today was not one I was looking forward to and any my primary goal was to get to the end of it without throwing a hissy fit or biting anyone's head off.

I did actually manage to achieve these objectives by employing 30% as a human shield. She did a magnificent job of interjecting herself between me and most of my family and made perfect small talk. I could, therefore, avoid exchanging meaningless chatter, in fact avoid any conversation at all.

The service was pretty much as expected, as the Celebrant had lifted most of her eulogy from my Dad's brief memoir. So, no surprises there.*

The wake was held at a local pub and, again, I managed to avoid small talk with my immediate family and, instead, caught up with J** and his mother's partner Ana. We stayed as long as necessary to be polite and, after a brief goodbyes, headed back to our little sanctuary.

I'll see all of them again at Friday's funeral, hopefully that will be no worse than today.

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* My cousin "J" had been at his father's funeral the day before and commented that it was the same Celebrant and she used exactly the same final reflections in both ceremonies.  I had to pity J, he had his father's funeral yesterday, his uncle's today and his mother's will be held on Friday ... his 53rd Birthday! 

He did see a slightly humorous side to this unfortunate week. He had attempted to hire a suit for three funerals from Moss Bros and was told "no mate, you need to buy one"

** I last saw J back in 2000. At the time he was living in Mahahual on the Yucatan peninsula in Mexico and I escorted his mum out there on a visit to track him down. It was quite an adventure and, perhaps, on a quiet day I should add a few tales from that trip.

That looks a lot better

 I am, in equal measure, both amazed and dismayed at the ability of growing chickens to create mess!

I have already recounted the fact that they will willingly crap in their food and water receptacles and, despite being caged, they can spread food, moulted feathers and excrement for a considerable radius beyond their cage.  They also produce a fine, grey, powdery dust that settles on every surface in the space where they are reared. They are very messy indeed!

This morning I fed and let out the chickens in the coop up in the orchard and then wandered down to the storeroom to feed and water the younger growers.

The storeroom was an absolute bomb site of poultry related debris and, if I am honest, didn't smell too pleasant either.  Enough was enough, it was time to sort out this fucking mess.* 

Phase 1 was to put the three older Crested Cream Legbar pullets in a cardboard box and take them up to the orchard. This went smoothly and they were soon looking a little bemused at being in a large outside run with eight Marans and Norfolk Greys.

I then returned to the storeroom and implemented phase 2.  The brooder box, that held the legbar pullets, was carefully dismantled and the waste was dumped in the bin. I then spent the remainder of the morning vacuuming up the mess on the storeroom floor.

I appreciate that I still have a cage with nine growers in the store room, but it smells a lot better in there and I can get to my fishing tackle without having to shimmy past a brooder box.

The storeroom was a lot more pleasant by lunch time and first task of the afternoon was to head out and collect a prescription for 30%.** I killed a couple of birds with a single stone and headed up to Astwood Bank to pick up a few essentials for tomorrow's fishing trip while I was out.

On my return, I implemented phase 3 of my plan and spent an hour, or so, scrubbing the brooder box with a disinfectant solution. It was then left in the sun to dry.

After all of that I plan to do very little other than make a packed lunch for tomorrow and ensure that I have all of my fishing stuff packed in the Defender.

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* I have a plan to sell on our surplus growers at the weekly Stratford upon Avon poultry auction. During my research of upcoming sales I learnt that it has recently become mandatory for all poultry keepers to register the fact that they are keeping chickens with the relevant Government department.  I would need to register the fact that I was a keeper, before I would be able to sell the birds. 

One of the first jobs this morning was to get the form filled in and emailed off to DEFRA, Animal and Plant Health Agency (APHA). 

** A request instruction was received via WhatsApp this morning.

Another early start

 Today featured another early start.

I had an appointment at the Ophthalmology Clinic over at Worcester Royal and needed to be out of the house at about half past seven.  This meant that I was whizzing around in the pre-dawn darkness emptying dogs and ensuring that the chickens were fed and watered.

It was a bloody good job that I sorted out the dogs and chickens because it was half past eleven before I made it back home.

The appointment was thorough and informative and it appears that I do not need laser surgery, but have finally been provided with a more accurate diagnosis and treatment plan.*  The only negative aspect of this morning's outpatient appointment was the forty five minute wait for the hospital pharmacy to dispense the requisite steroids. This was somewhat surprising as the pharmacy was filled with busy little pharmacists and dispensers and there were only a couple of outpatients waiting. I appreciate that the inpatients also require drugs but I just can't fathom why it took so long when there were so many staff and so few customers in the pharmacy?

Mind you, this is my view of most of the NHS. It seems to have loads of people doing stuff and an even greater number of people just wandering around and chatting. As a final point I will mention that the UK Quality Care Commission assesses this hospital as Requiring Improvement! Not exactly confidence inspiring, is it?

The afternoon descended in to several hours of laziness, including a snooze and a bit of binge watching. I eventually got my shit together late in the afternoon and took the dogs out for a walk and finished raking up the hedge clippings in the front garden.

There you go, that was Thursday.

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* For several months I have been treated by an NHS Service Provider. In other words, a private company that performs straightforward clinical services on behalf of the NHS. A cataract factory! The consultant I saw today has finally pointed me in the right direction if my eye condition doesn't improve.

What time is it?

 That was my first utterance this morning.

Apparently it is a husband's duty to ferry his wife and her crony to the Airport.*  So, this morning I was shaken from my bed shortly after five o'clock and heading towards Birmingham Airport, via Alcester, at six o'clock sharp.  30% and "M" are off to Amsterdam for a three day mini-break and I was the sucker that had to endure Birmingham's rush hour, motorway traffic in the dark. The drive wasn't actually too bad, although I doubt the sanity of anyone who would want to commute on the M42.**  

The airport run took about ninety minutes and, once home, I ministered to the chickens and took the dogs for a quick walk down the lane.

I then got back in to the car and headed over to Evesham to make floral arrangements for next week's funeral. This was quite straightforward and I have to say it is quite lovely that absolutely no-one wants to be a pain in the arse when you are referencing bereavement and funeral arrangements.  If people can be that nice, why do they default to being complete arseholes for most of their lives?

Anyway, flowers sorted ... CHECK ✅. 

Next I headed over to Redditch to purchase chicken food and a few fishing tackle essentials for Saturday's expedition to the Severn. Again, I was successful although these errands consumed virtually all of the morning.

The early start caught up with me after lunch and I have to report that an extended snooze took place. I then headed up to the orchard and topped up the bees' feeders before getting busy in the kitchen. A large bowl of tomatoes was converted to tomato soup before I took the dogs out for another short walk along th lane.

So that sums up Wednesday. In retrospect it looks like I didn't get much done, but it felt like I was on the go for virtually all of the day ... apart from the minutes when my eyes were shut!

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* The interesting point about this statement is that, whilst it may be my duty to take them to the airport, it is most definitely NOT the crony's husband's duty to pick them up when they return on Friday. When the crony was asked whether her husband would perform this task she replied "Oh no, Steve wouldn't do that".

** Today's local television news reported that it has been rated as the worst motorway in the UK. 

Rain stopped play ... eventually

My plan for today was to continue hedge cutting, focussing up in the orchard.

However ... there's always a "however" isn't there. A little fact or incident that puts paid to my original plans and diverts me to some other shit. Today's "however" was that I planned to make a start on the hedges in the orchard HOWEVER I noticed that 30% had left scatterings of hedge cuttings all over the place* and these needed to be raked up.

So, other than nipping out to Redditch for some building sand, my main accomplishment was the raking and piling up of hedge clippings. 

The rain came in about midway through the afternoon and I didn't fancy a soaking, so I spent a lazy afternoon indoors doing very little.  I like to call this "planning".

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* One example of this madness** was that she had raked up the clippings from one side of a hedge and had then moved on to another hedge, not bothering with the other side of the first hedge.

** I am a completer/finisher. She is more of a starter and let some other idiot finish the job, because she's moved on to something more interesting. My wife is something of a mental butterfly.

Guess what I've been up to?

 Yep, no surprises here!

Monday was exactly like the preceding four days, more hedge cutting. Today I managed to cut the hedges at the front of the property, bordering the lane, and also the hedge alongside of the garden, bordering the arable field upslope of the cottage.

As I was working I heard the hedging contractor in a field just down the road and hoped that today's duties would include the hedges bordering the cottage ... unfortunately that was not to be. He actually tried the gate to the little pasture, but it was bloody locked and he disappeared off to do another field ... Fuck!

Anyway, I can't make hedge cutting in any way interesting, so I'll move on to the equally unexciting subject of potatoes. Back in July I planted a row of second crop potatoes. The Charlotte variety flowered a couple of weeks back and the foliage has now died away. I therefore decided to dig up a couple of plants and see how they have done.

Second Crop Potatoes. var: Charlotte

It is fair to say that the crop isn't huge and I needed to dig three or four plants for a meal.  We had them with home grown carrots and runner beans and roast pork this evening and they tasted superb. 

In retrospect, I have had far better crops with Spring planted, second early potatoes, but I wasn't able to get them in the ground this year as a result of very wet soil and other issues with the veg patch in the Spring.

However, the Maris Peer are still in the ground and looking very healthy. Fingers crossed that they produce a better crop.

On a mission

The past few days have been exhausting, and, as a consequence, any downtime has been spent slumped on the sofa rather than making entries in The Journal.

Let me explain.  The cottage has about three hundred yards of hedging. This is not your suburban, domestic 4' high privet or laurel hedging. This is your agricultural, 6' high, 6' wide, hawthorn and bramble, a cow aint getting through that hedging. It is thick. It is nasty and it is time to cut it back.

Most farmers use a tractor and flail hedge cutter to keep their field boundaries in order. Unfortunately access issues prevent their use at the cottage, so I need to resort to loppers and a variety of chainsaws and hedge cutters. 

To make matters worse, I was unable to cut the hedges last year due to my bad back and the farmer, whose land borders the cottage, didn't cut his side of them either. As a result the 6' high hedges now sport vigorous shoots reaching 14' skyward. 

It is going to be a bastard of a job and, with a fine spell of weather forecast, it is time to make a start.

Thursday, 3rd October. 2024

This morning started with a trip to the Vets as Whiffler was due his inoculations. Since we were out and about, we decided to head over to The Valley in Evesham and pick up a few terracotta pots. These will be needed for the tulip and dwarf iris bulbs that we picked up at the RHS Autumn Show last Sunday. 

We were home by lunchtime and, after eating, I headed out to make a start on the hedges. I decided to ease myself in to the task and started on the short length that borders the back lawn and the orchard.  This hedge had been laid a couple of years ago, so it was in good shape and needed little more than a good cut. Having said that, there was still four or five feet of growth that needed to be taken out of the top of it and the wild rose at one end was vicious.

After an hour or so I stood back and surveyed my effort and was reasonably pleased. It was now time to start on the hedges that border the property. These are monsters. I decided to make a start on the one that borders the neighbouring pasture, as this currently throws a lot of shade on the greenhouses and the veg patch.

First I used my electric hedge cutter to take back the growth on our side of the hedge. Then I grabbed a short ladder and set it against the hedge. It was now slow progress using loppers to take out the 8' high shoots of Ash, Hawthorn and Elder* as these are far too big for a hedge cutter. After clearing the larger shoots, I was finely able to use my petrol long-reach hedge cutter to level out the top of the hedge.

It was slow progress and I estimate that I can complete about five yards of hedging in an hour. At the end of day #1, I reckon that I had cut about forty or fifty yards of hedging and poor 30% had created a mountain of brash up in the orchard.

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* That is 8' above the top of the hedge. These shoots are a couple of inches in diameter at the point I was cutting them!

Friday, 4th October, 2024

It was hedging all day today. I continued the hedge bordering the pasture downslope of the cottage. This is probably close to fifty years in length and gets challenging, as twenty yards of the hedge runs behind the outbuildings. It has almost completely filled the 6' gap between the hedge and the back of the building, so clearing the overgrowth was tricky in such a confined space.

It took all day to clear about thirty yards of hedging* and my hands have been cut to ribbons by thorns, despite stout leather gloves and equipment that does its best to distance the user from the hedge.

I just hope that the farmer gets his contractor to cut the hedges in the pasture, as the ragged edge on his side really messes with the completer/finisher in me!

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* This 30 yards included the ten or fifteen yards of copper beech hedging that forms a break between the front and rear gardens. The beech hedging was an absolute breeze to cut in comparison to the thorn filled. field hedging.

Saturday, 5th October, 2024

This morning saw me, bright and early, down at the local surgery for my flu and covid inoculations. As I wandered back to the car I realised that my left arm was going to be really sore later on, from both the injections and a day of hedge cutting.

I guess I managed about four or five hours on the hedges before I decided that I needed a change. I dragged the lawn mower out of the shed and spent a few hours tidying up the lawns around the house.  Mowing seemed like a positive picnic after the slog of the past three days.

Sunday, 6tth October, 2024

Guess what? Yep, another day working on the hedges. I finally finished the stretch behind the outbuildings and 30% has had the genius idea of hiring an industrial shredder to convert the cuttings in to mulch for use on the garden. We have used one previously, when we lived at The Pile, and they are absolutely brilliant tools.

We also had some potentially good news from our neighbouring farmer. 30% received a text message advising that his hedge cutting contractor will hopefully be attending to the hedges around the cottage in the near future.

I bloody hope so, because that will reduce my work by a massive amount.

A mildly frustrating morning

 This morning I had a plan.

I needed to go and pick up a bag of chicken food from the local feed store and decided to try to kill several birds with one stone.*  I grabbed a parcel that needed to be posted and a honey bucket that needed to be returned to Pete the beekeeper.

Smugly I mentally ticked off items on my to do list as I clambered in to the Land Rover and set off towards the village post office. Unfortunately I had messed up my astronomical, floral and faunal observations and the bloody place was closed. "No worries" I thought, as I had a vague recollection of there being a post office close to the feed store.

As I drove over to Redditch I caught sight of the post office just before I turned in to the feed store, where I learnt that they were out of growers pellets. Apparently a chap had come in on Monday and bought their entire stock.  My first thought was "bollocks", but an optimism neuron fired and I realised that, at least, I could get the damned parcel posted.

Two minutes later I was heading towards feed store #2 in Feckenham,* where I was politely informed that they only stock layers pellets. 

Arseholes! Our supplies were very low and I couldn't recall experiencing a situation like this in all the years we have kept poultry.  I grabbed my phone and gave feed store #3, over at Bromsgrove, a call. Their customer service was brilliant, as they confirmed that they had growers pellets and even went to check the stock levels.  I was delighted that I had located a supply, but then needed to drive another ten miles to collect the feed.

In all my forty minute errand took all fucking morning, I'd driven twice as far as I had planned and I failed to return Beekeeper Pete's honey bucket.

The afternoon was slightly more productive, as I managed to prepare, blanch and freeze two of the celeriac stems that I dug yesterday.

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* It's probably worth stressing that this errand should have taken forty minutes at most ... forty minutes, less than an hour, not very long at all really.

** minus the parcel

Goblin Fruit #2

 It was another soggy day and, again, I did my best to stay out of the rain and chilly wind.

I did, however, spend the best part of an hour outside harvesting five of my celeriac plants. They have grown beautifully over a Summer that can, at best, be described as cool with average rain and sunshine.

Just out of the ground

Washed and scrubbed

Trimmed, but not yet peeled

Having processed the celeriac to the point where they could be stored, I weighed them just to see how they compared to store bought examples. The largest were around 950g and the smallest of this bunch was about 650g after trimming. It seems that our celeriac is as big as those in the supermarket, but is much more fragrant.

If I am honest, after cleaning up the stems, I planned to do very little for the rest of the day. However, a modicum of motivation intruded on my laziness and I grabbed a large saucepan and the other ingredients for a batch of creamy celeriac soup. It took an hour or so to prep the veg and make the soup, but this batch will provide about ten servings and freezes beautifully.

After finishing the soup, I glanced at the three remaining celeriac stems. It looks like I will be blanching and freezing those tomorrow and, possibly, trying out a recipe for remoulade.

An indoors sort of day

The weather this morning was miserable. It was cold and there was a fine drizzle that did its best to surreptitiously soak you.

It was definitely an indoors day. After sorting out the chickens and taking the dogs for a short walk down the lane, I spent the day pottering. Bills were paid, little jobs were completed and I even took a chance on finding the village post office open*, as I needed to post a parcel.

In summary, I managed to potter through the day without having to resort to a significant quantity of daytime television. A decent siesta was taken and a variety of admin tasks and little jobs were completed.

The weather forecast for tomorrow looks similar, so I need to have a think about what might be achieved on Tuesday.

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* The village post office has opening hours that are even more complex than the timing of Easter. Apparently Easter is scheduled on the first Sunday after the Paschal full moon. Our Post Office opening appears to be dependent on an array of complex astronomical calculations combined with the presence or absence of local fauna and flora. Basically you need to recall when the Lords and Ladies are in flower, whether a hedgehog wandered through a specific garden last night and the position of Orion in the night sky .... or just chance it.**

** I'm not sure which experience is more disappointing; arriving and finding it closed or arriving and wandering in to the dismal broom cupboard that is our local post office.

It's a good job he doesn't bite!

Several weeks ago we purchased tickets for the RHS Autumn Show at the Three Counties Show Ground in Malvern.  We've been on a couple of previous occasions and enjoyed the show but two factors encouraged us to go again this year. Firstly, we have a much bigger garden and retirement has given us the time to explore the joys of having a proper garden.* Secondly, for the first time ever, the Three Counties Show society has allowed visitors to bring their dogs.**

We decided that we would only take Hobson, after taking all three dogs to the Game Fair. The Rat isn't a great fan of unfamiliar crowds and it is a long day for Whiffler, who is now in his eleventh year.

After completing our morning chores, we threw Hobson in to the back of the Defender and headed over to the Malvern show ground. We had a lovely day, but it was fair to say that Hobson was the star. He looked incredibly smart, having been groomed on Friday and, being 26" at the shoulder, he certainly drew attention wherever he went.

We had lots of people come up and ask about him and I noticed that people were reaching out to stroke the top of his head as they wandered past. As it says in the title of today's entry "it's a bloody good job he doesn't bite"! It is common sense to ask a dog owner before reaching out to stroke their animal. I've come across a few mutts that respond to a proffered hand with a growl and a lighting fast snap. Fortunately Hobson is a calm and friendly lad and he bathed in the adoration of the crowds.

He was an absolute star all day. He walked beautifully alongside us and there was no lunging to try to greet or sniff the other dogs at the show. He even behaved himself when we took a walk through the small animals display and encountered llamas, ponies, pigs and goats, although he did try to eat some pig pooh at one point. I am amazed at what a calm boy he is, considering that he is only twenty months old.

Anyway, we had a lovely day and even had a few plant and bulb bargains, as it was the last day of the show. A final thought on the day was provided by 30%; "it's a good job we didn't take Whiffler as well, we would have become an attraction rather than visitors".

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* The garden at The Pile was a reasonable size, about one fifth of an acre, but it was low maintenance; being mostly lawn, paving and a short length of laurel hedging.

** This was a "one-day only" concession on Sunday 29th September. Previously all other Three Counties events have been assistance dogs only. The realist cynic in me wonders if this was a trial to explore whether allowing dogs increases footfall and commercial revenue?

Mouse Guards and Cheesy Peas

After running around for most of Friday, with little to show for it, today was a little more productive. I'm not promising that it was exciting or interesting, but definitely more productive.

First job of the day was to check on the BMW, which is currently off the road and under covers in the carport. I replaced the moisture absorbing crystals in the damp prevention device and dug out another couple of bags of absorbent crystals from the shed. These had been sat around for years, but I could see no reason why a couple of hours in a low oven wouldn't desiccate them ... experiment started.

After sorting out the car, I headed off down the road with the dogs for a short walk, while 30% headed off to the supermarket. On my return, I pottered for a while before I gathered a spade and mattock and wandered up to the orchard.

My intention was to lay a couple of paving slabs at each end of the chicken coop. The weather will worsen over the coming months and this measure will mean that I avoid trudging through a muddy slurry at each end of the day. I didn't actually get very far with this task as 30% returned from her errands and we stopped for lunch.

In the afternoon we shifted gear and got on with shit! The slabs were laid by the coop and, while I was up in the orchard, I topped up the feeders on the hives and pinned the mouse guards* to the hive entrances. We then spent a happy hour ensuring that various drains around the property were cleared of debris. 

As the afternoon waned, I cleaned up and headed in to the kitchen. Mummy Sheila had been invited over for a bite to eat and we had decided that we would attempt Matar Paneer,** following the Asian cookery demo on Wednesday.  I used a BBC Food recipe*** and we were delighted with the outcome. It was more spicy than the recipe demo'd on Wednesday, but one could always reduce the chillies and garam masala, according to tastes.

The dish was eaten with garlic naan, poppadoms, pickles and minted yoghurt and was lovely ... another vegetarian triumph!

Sheila departed shortly before nine and we spent the remainder of the evening slumped on the sofa.

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* It is claimed that, if you can fit a pencil through a hole or crack, a mouse will be able to get through it. The little sods have a tendency to creep in to hives over the Winter months and cause chaos eating the comb and honey. Hence perforated metal mouse guards are pinned over the hive entrance. The bees are still able to come and go, but mice are excluded.

** I loved the Fast Show and it amuses me that Matar Paneer is cheesy peas.

** Note: BBC Food, not BBC Good Food

Busy doing nothing

 Well, as today closes, I look back and surmise that I seemed to have been on the go for most of the day, but I'm not sure that I achieved much.

Shortly after breakfast I encouraged Whiffler and Hobson in to the back of the Defender and headed over to Stratford upon Avon.  They were booked in for a bath and clip. As I drove in to this delightful* little Warwickshire town all seemed well and then everything seemed to come to a stop. At this point I should advise that this was ten c'clock in the morning, and therefore not an understandable rush hour jam.

I eventually made my way across town and dropped off the dogs. A mental note was made to leave home in plenty of time to collect them, or, preferably, abdicate from this duty and remind 30% of this point.

I stopped off at the supermarket on the way out of Stratford and picked up the key ingredient for the Matar Paneer and also added a key ingredient to the Defender; diesel.  I then headed across to Bromsgrove for a dental checkup. 

These two activities had consumed the entire morning and, by the time I had lunched and taken care of a few odd jobs, it was time to head back out to collect the dogs.

Another hour was spent in the car, and the time spent in traffic jams was used wisely; making changes to the play list on my phone.

As I close out this Journal entry I will point out that I spent at least three hours driving today and covered over 75 miles on country roads. My wallet is somewhat lighter having filled up the Defender and made my Dentist slightly richer. The dogs also look beautiful, but I'm not sure any of this counts as an achievement.

It's probably time for another list.

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* It has its good points, but I'm not a massive fan, particularly of its traffic system. Like Evesham, the entire town will grind to a halt as a result of a dog taking a shit on the High Street.

Running out of steam

I'm not sure whether it is the change of the seasons, an underlying bug, or just a couple of days of rain, but both 30% and I have felt somewhat lacking in energy and enthusiasm today.

Her ladyship headed out to the supermarket this morning and then on to volunteer at a local support group for people with memory and cognition issues.

I was home alone and, despite the morning sunshine, it took conscious effort to do anything other than unavoidable tasks.* Having kicked my own arse sufficiently, I grabbed a wheelbarrow, loaded it with beekeeping kit and headed up to the orchard to take a quick look at the colonies.

Pete the beekeeper had suggested that I put the colonies in a double brood box configuration to encourage them to draw foundation in to fresh comb. However, cooler weather had been forecast and I didn't want to leave new colonies in a hive like a cathedral and expect them to keep it warm and build fresh comb.

Apologies for this if it is getting a little technical on the beekeeping front, but it is useful for me to keep a few notes on how the colonies are progressing. In brief, they both have plenty of capped brood, but the cool weather meant that I kept inspection time brief.** I resisted the temptation to keep the frames out of the hive for too long, checking for larvae and eggs. Hopefully we will get a warmer spell for the next inspection and I can take a better look then.

30% returned in the late afternoon and we agreed that a lazy afternoon was in order. I think my most significant achievement was skinning a few tomatoes and making passata, as this will be needed for the Matar Paneer that I plan to make over the weekend.

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* The feeding and watering of chickens and letting the dogs out for a pee

** If brood are chilled during an inspection it can kill them.

Matar Paneer

 This morning I was awarded an extremely temporary membership of the local Women's Institute. In other words I was invited out with 30%, Mummy Sheila and The Wordle Witch.

Our destination was a Farm Shop out on the Stourbridge road and the event was an Indian cookery demonstration arranged by the local WI Federation.  It doesn't take a genius to guess that I stuck out like a sore thumb, as I was the only man* in a group of fifty middle aged to elderly women; many of whom seemed to have a slightly confused look about them.

The demonstration was excellent. Our hostess was originally from Northern India and gave us an hour long talk about Indian cuisine and spices while demonstrating how to cook Matar Paneer; Paneer cheese and peas in a spicy tomato sauce.  It was great fun and the dish tasted superb. 

After my recent success with runner bean curry, I'm tempted to have a go at Matar Paneer over the coming weekend.

The morning of cookery seemed to have kindled my culinary spark,** and a wet afternoon and a glut of tomatoes further encourage me to head in to the kitchen.  My output wasn't particularly exciting, it was another batch of cream of tomato soup that will be frozen for consumption over the coming months.

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* This slightly puzzled me. The Coven made it clear that anyone was welcome, provided they paid the fee, and I'm quite happy in the company of a group of women. I don't really understand why there weren't any other men there. After all, there are plenty of male cooks?

** Clearly not much of a spark.

Harmony and Balance

I'd planned to inspect the hives today and got as far as locating various items of beekeeping paraphernalia.* Unfortunately that was as far as I got. The weather cooled and a significant hypoglycaemic event put paid to my plan.

I did, however, manage to clarify and bottle the last of the honey and I now have 30 lb, 8 oz ready for sale ... I just need the punters to turn up now.

In other news, I finally managed to make contact with my Dentist. I have an appointment scheduled for Wednesday morning and my better half pointed out that we were due to attend an Asian cookery demonstration. Consequently I phoned and left messages on Monday requesting a re-schedule. I heard nothing until this morning when the Receptionist called to remind me of tomorrow's session. 

I advised that I was not able to attend and pointed out that I had left a message yesterday.  The Receptionist advised that she hadn't listened to the messages.  I was somewhat annoyed at this, especially considering that the Dentist's answerphone clearly asks you to leave a message, and goes as far as to tell you that you can re-record your message if you fuck up the first attempt!

I was somewhat miffed, but the Receptionist kindly offered me an appointment late on Friday morning.  I gladly accepted, well aware that the dogs needed to be taken to the Groomer, but conscious that I had sufficient time to drive from Stratford to Bromsgrove and be there on time.

I recounted this good fortune to 30% and saw a look on her face. It appears that I had totally forgotten that she had promised to take me to lunch at the new Greek restaurant in Stratford on Friday.

Trying to take an optimistic approach, I pointed out that her annoyance about not being able to make the lunch was probably broadly equivalent to my annoyance about the Dentist's Receptionist not listening to their messages.

This, I sagely advised, was an example of the maintenance of cosmic balance and harmony ... then I ducked.

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* A couple of brood boxes, several dummy boards and a couple of frames of foundation ... it's a completely different language!

The Black Cow of Doom

 It was another rainy day and I did my best to stay indoors.

I can't say that I kept myself busy, but I wasn't completely idle, and I got another ten pounds of honey clarified and bottled.  I'll be glad when this task is finished; as the effort to extract crystallised honey from a 30lb tub is doing my tennis elbow no good at all!

That's about it for Monday. I sorted some honey, fed and watered chickens and picked a few tomatoes, not the most productive of days.  

So instead I'll recount a little of the Black Cow of Doom; one of the panoply of mystical beasts and beings that inhabit my imagination.

Back in 2010 we spent a week up on the Lleyn peninsula in Wales with the dogs. We had a super time and, whilst driving, I regularly saw the road sign warning of cattle.  I took this to be a dreaded portent, and the legend of the Black Cow of Doom was born.  From that point forward, whenever the warning sign is seen, her name is called with awe and reverence and a ritual gesture is performed to ward off ill spirits.*

Let's jump forward to the beginning of last week; 30% and I were sat up in bed enjoying a cup of coffee.  As we looked out of the bedroom window a black cow appeared in the field across the lane. It mooed and the grandfather clock struck eight o'clock. If ever there was a portent that had PORTENT spray painted across it in luminous green.  I referenced the dark coloured bovine of terrible fates and we performed the appropriate gesture.

Now, I need to state quite clearly that I don't believe any of this nonsense. It is just stuff that amuses me and it was a complete coincidence that we saw the Black Cow of Doom the same day we had a family bereavement.

Oops!

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* I also give 30% a gentle punch whenever we see a yellow car, but that is completely different.

Goblin Fruit

Autumn has definitely arrived. A steady rain greeted me as I headed out to tend to the chickens and a hat and coat were grabbed to keep off the worst of it. The rain was forecast to linger for the next couple of days, so I needed an indoor activity to keep me busy.

I spent the morning pottering and sorting out another batch of honey. There is a lot of waiting while the set honey liquifies and it seems that I spent this time drinking coffee.

With another four and a half pounds of honey bottled, my thoughts turned to the afternoon's entertainment. We had a few leeks and some celery lingering in the bottom of the fridge and my eye had been caught by a couple good sized celeriac in the veg patch.  Hat and coat were deployed again and I wandered out with a fork.* 

Homegrown Celeriac

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, although most might say that celeriac is the goblin of the veg patch. The creamy white bulb is about six inches across and its fine network of roots bring a up a huge clump of earth when they are hauled from the ground.  After shaking off a few pounds of soil and trimming off the fine roots, one is left with a muddy, distorted bulb that is entwined with coarse grasping roots.*** 

It is a multi-stage process to prep the damned things.  First, most of the soil is washed off in one of the water tanks in the garden. Then the larger roots are cut away. The various creases, crevices and nodules are packed with earth and much trimming, scrubbing and washing is needed before one is able to peel away the outer skin and reveal the creamy white flesh.

They may be goblin fruit but they are worth the effort to grow and prepare. They have so much more flavour than the prewashed examples available in the supermarket.

After prepping the celeriac, each hypocotyl weighed about 750 g and were used to make up a double batch of James Martin's creamy celeriac soup. We now have five litres of this beautiful soup bagged and stored in the freezer.

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* Garden implement rather than cutlery. I'd look a complete chump trying to dig up an hypocotyl** with a piece of kitchenware. Context!

** Most seem to refer to celeriac as a root vegetable, but it is actually a swollen stem just above where the roots form ... the hypocotyl.

*** I'll take some photos next time I dig one up. They really are an odd looking thing.

2nd October '24: I have literally travelled back in time to add a photo to this Journal entry.

Open for business ... again

 My little road-side honey stall does a surprising amount of trade considering that we live on a lane that has more pedestrian and equestrian than vehicular traffic.

I won't be so crass as to give revenue and turnover figures, but, in a little over four months, I have sold about sixty pounds of honey.  That's not bad considering that, once it has been bottled and labelled, the effort involved is minimal other than collecting the cash and keeping the little stall stocked.

There are times when I consider the effort of harvesting honey from the hives and wonder if being a reseller is the way forward.*

Anyway, to the point of today's entry, Pete the beekeeper dropped off a thirty pound tub of honey yesterday and today my main achievement was that I managed to clarify, bottle and label about one third of it.

I resupplied my little stall and we are open for business ...again.

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* Then I wander up to the colonies for an inspection and realise that I have an interest that has moments that are truly zen. Who wouldn't want that!

That's eight of your "five a day"

The title of today's entry comes from a conversation shared during dinner ...

The veg patch and greenhouses are bountiful and I am concerned that it may well be possible to eat too many vegetables. Last night's supper included beans, cabbage and carrots and pounds of tomatoes are arriving in the kitchen every day. Allegedly this evening's meal of liver, bacon and onion gravy included eight portions of vegetables!

I'm not certain of the veracity of this statement, but I'm giving myself an A+ for gut health at the moment!

Right, this Journal entry is a little jumbled, but I'll now have a go at pulling it in to some semblance of order. 

30% and the dogs headed off for a morning walk shortly after breakfast and I wandered in to the kitchen.  There is a large bowl sat on the worktop, filled to the brim with tomatoes of various sizes, shapes and colours.  This morning I planned to reduce this glut somewhat and set to preparing the ingredients for another batch of tomato soup.

An hour or so, later I had used over two kilos of toms and produced about four litres of soup. The worrying this is that I had used barely half of the tomatoes and I'll be picking more tomorrow.

In the early afternoon Beekeeper Pete turned up at the back door with a thirty pound tub of honey.  He had noticed that my little roadside stall had been taken in, and realised that I must have run out of stock. It looks like the next few days will be spent clarifying and bottling this batch, and my little side hustle will be back in operation.

In the late afternoon 30% drove me over to Droitwich for an appointment with the Ophthalmologist. I have become more than a little worried about my eyesight over the past couple of days; as I have started to experience some pain, cloudiness and sensitivity to bright light. These are all symptoms of glaucoma and my hypochondria had kicked in.  It was fortunate that I had a scheduled appointment today.

I was given a thorough, and painful, check-up and do not have glaucoma, but I do have a problem with the ducts that drain the area between the cornea and iris. Apparently I will be booked in for laser treatment in the very near future to alleviate the condition.

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* Don't Ask.

Tree Ferns & Poultry

This morning it was decided that we would pop over to Rowberry's Nursery for a look around before heading over to Morrison's in Bromsgrove to collect a duvet from the dry cleaner. 

There is an interesting annoying back story to the dry cleaning of the duvet involving the changing of bed linen, roast lamb for Sunday dinner, a bone, a dog and the integration of the latter two elements.  I'll leave it to the casual reader to construct a narrative that pulls all of these together.

Anyway, we headed over to the Nursery and had a pleasant time wandering amongst the plants. Our attention was drawn to the fabulous Tree Ferns in the greenhouses and we got a little envious. We do have a little tree fern. 30% purchased it a couple of months ago from B&Q. It's not very big, standing about 40cm high with a spread of about the same amount. The smallest examples in Rowberrys were about 1m high and close to 1.5m across.  We peered at the price, expecting it to be eye watering, and found it to be only £20 more than the specimen from B&Q.

In an instant the decision was made that our little tree fern was obviously lonely and would grow far better in the company of one of these magnificent examples.  As I type this, it is sitting in a bath of water under our variegated Maple giving its roots a damned good soak.

In the afternoon we finally go the chicks sorted. The oldest birds* were moved in to their permanent home in the orchard and the youngest birds were relocated to larger brooder in the store room. It will only be a few more weeks before the older of the Crested Cream Legbars can be introduced to the Marans and Norfolk Greys. 

As for the remaining chicks, 30% has advertised them for sale. Anyone want to buy a chicken or two?

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* Three Cuckoo Marans and  five Norfolk Grey pullets 

Unexpected visitor

30% had planned to spend much of the day with Jules and they headed off in the general direction of Stratford at around ten this morning.

Home alone, I headed in to the kitchen, assembled ingredients and equipment and spent the remainder of the morning cooking up another batch of tomato soup. The tomatoes in the greenhouse are finally ripening and we have a fantastic crop of Alicante. The fruits are almost as big as dessert apples and it's great to be able to produce your own food.  The soup will be bagged and frozen and be a delicious lunch at some point in the coming months.

As I was finishing up the soup, the dogs started barking and that usually means we have a visitor. I wandered out of the front door and saw a young chap walking down the drive towards the house.  It took a moment or two before I realised that it was my half-brother. I hadn't seen him for probably twelve years and you know how it is when you see someone out of context.

After that hesitant start we shared a hug and spent the next couple of hours catching up. Our recent bereavement was the instigation for his visit and, obviously, much of the discussion was focussed around recent events.  The visit wasn't awful, but I am not close to my family and have had minimal contact with any of them, other than brief encounters at family funerals. Consequently the conversation was somewhat stilted at times as it is difficult to know which topics of conversation are off limits. We both did our best and it was a pleasant enough experience. It was decent of him to take the initiative and call in for a catch-up. 

I suppose the big question is; will this visit bring about a change in our relationship? I think probably not. We have drifted apart over the years and in that time we have all developed our own friendship groups, relationships, lifestyles and interests. A dozen years is a lot of drifting and I'm not sure that a little bit of shared DNA is enough to rebuild relations.

The visit was certainly a disturbance in the force and left me a little slightly unsettled.  I suppose I am going to have more of this over the coming few weeks.

In other news I shortened the two section of trellis that we purchased yesterday and spent a happy hour getting them fixed to the side of Rose Cottage.  30% was delighted by the result, but thinks we should add another couple to the old shed.

Mostly Poultry

My priority over the past few days has been to rationalise our poultry situation.

At present we had three groups of chicks. The oldest are seven and a half weeks old and the youngest hatched exactly four weeks ago.  Caring for young chicks is the proverbial pain in the backside. They need to be kept under heat until they are about six weeks old and they have an incredible ability to contaminate their food and water supples with their own excrement. Each of the brooders needs to be checked at least three times a day and their food and water supplies need to be either refreshed or, more usually, cleaned out. They are also incredibly excitable. The slightest disturbance will result in flapping, squawking and birds leaping in the air in a chaotic fashion!

After eight weeks this is becoming tiresome and I still have another couple of weeks to go, but, fortunately, the oldest hatchlings are now ready to be moved to the coop in the orchard. They will have much more room and, hopefully, will be less inclined to shit in their food and water.

My plan is to get the oldest birds up to the coop by the end of the week and my attention has been focussed on this. The coop was sited and assembled yesterday and today I worked on the finishing touches; making stands to lift the feeders and drinkers clear of their bedding and a temporary mesh door* for the coop.  Access to the nest boxes was also blocked. This is an attempt to stop the birds becoming accustomed to roosting in them. Once they form this habit, it is virtually impossible to break and can result in eggs being broken.

In other news, 30% and I popped over to a reclamation yard on the other side of Bromsgrove to pick up some incredibly cheap trellis. This is to be installed on the outside of Rose Cottage for the climbing rose and honeysuckle to grow up.

I also checked on the bees' syrup feeders and topped them up. The colonies seem to be taking down a litre of syrup each day, which is an encouraging sign that they are settling in to the hives and building up stores in advance of the Winter.

The last bit of new was that Bobbyn came over for an evening walk with the dogs. It was a beautiful evening and the sun was setting as we arrived back at home. Bobbyn commented that it won't be long before we need to take our head torches to light our path.

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* The birds will be confined to the coop for a week, or so. This is to get them to imprint on their new home before they are given access to the run.  If they are not imprinted they can be reluctant to roost in the coop as dusk approaches.  This can result in yours truly having to scrabble around on hands and knees in the run catching the little sods and shoving them back in to the coup each evening ... This is not an item on my bucket list.

Mr Benn

This morning started with me roughing out a plot line for a brand new episode of the 1970's children's TV favourite Mr Benn.

Mr Benn's role is now taken on by our youngest dog Hobson. He leaves his residence in Festive Road and sets out for the day. As he walks past the costume shop, his eye is caught by Guide Dog's high viz harness and his interest is piqued.  He enters the shop and "as if by magic the shopkeeper appeared". Hobson tries on the harness in the changing room and exits by the secret door. A fantastic adventure follows where he is a guide dog for an elderly lady and takes her to a betting shop, a drug den and eventually ends up in a brothel, where she is very popular.  At this point 30% advised that this was a little dark and not appropriate for the intended audience.

Oh well, back to the drawing board.

Today was another busy day.  The morning was spent repotting the Monstera and I almost did myself a mischief getting it back up the stairs* to the bathroom.

In the afternoon I checked on the bees and can report that both colonies are doing well. I have still have not managed to see the second queen, but it is apparent that she is laying as she has produced significant quantities of brood. Both colonies are taking in large quantities of syrup and the frames of foundation are gradually being transformed into fresh comb and stores.  We have a fine week ahead** and I need to keep the feeders topped up with syrup.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent siting and assembling the chicken coop. This turned out to be a bit of a mission. The site needed to be levelled and the run needed to be attached to the coop. Although it is beautifully made, it was a pig of a job and the air was blue with a stream of colourful invective as assembly lurched forward.

Top marks go to 30% for restraint and patience while assisting me in this job.

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* The stairs in the cottage are known affectionately as The Ladder. There are only nine of them but they are very steep, very narrow and have a 90° turn half way up.  Going up is relatively straightforward, but coming down is a piece of performance art!

** Feeding a young colony is critical to its success.  The young bees need the syrup to produce beeswax.  Wax creation is temperature dependent, so the warmer the weather, the more likely the bees are to produce wax and build comb.  The more comb they build, the more syrup can be stored and converted to Winter stores. The more comb they build, the more cells are available for the queen to lay in. 

Day of rest

Today was a lazy day.

I had planned to inspect the hives, but didn't pay enough attention to the weather forecast.  The morning sunshine didn't last and the afternoon was cloudy and cool. Basically I missed the warm sunny weather and the inspections were deferred until tomorrow.

I did finish removing the slabs from the overgrown path in the orchard and I did take a few Dianthus cuttings from a rather attractive Pink that has provided flowers and scent on the patio over the Summer. 

I also attended to a large hexagonal planter that 30% has earmarked for the Monstera that lives in the bathroom.  The pot needed to have small feet attached to prevent damage to the tile flooring, so I got creative with silicone and some plastic thingumajigs that I found in the workshop. I think it will work really well, but we'll see tomorrow when the Monstera gets repotted.

That just about sums up my Sunday, although I can report that the last of the beetroot were roasted and served with this evening's roast lamb.  They were OK, but hardly a taste sensation.  They definitely need the tang of pickling vinegar or the additional flavourings of a chutney recipe to give them a boost.

Knackered

We were breakfasted and out of the house shortly after nine o'clock this morning. If I knew how the day was going to pan out, I would have taken a more leisurely start to the day.

Our first mission was a trip into Worcester to pick up a new hedge trimmer.* I have bit the bullet and gone for a battery powered model. With approximately 300 yards of hedging, the garden is certainly going to be an arduous test for this new piece of kit.  

After collecting the trimmer, we headed across the road and spent a happy hour in the supermarket picking up a few staples. Having done that we decided that the planned trip to Golls Nursery could be deferred and headed straight home.

After unpacking the car and putting the trimmer battery on charge, it was lunchtime. 30% had heated a batch of celeriac soup from the freezer and it was beautiful. I kid myself that it is healthy because of all the vegetables in it, but this perspective necessitates ignoring the significant quantity of butter and double cream added.

Lunch was followed by a way too short snooze, before I headed out to the garden and cut the remaining lawns; the front lawn, around the greenhouses, around the garage and the verges at the front of the house. 

I had certainly got my steps in this afternoon, but 30% was in the mood for a short walk, so we took a twenty minute amble down the lane before turning and heading home.

As 30% headed in to the kitchen to think about dinner, I grabbed a sack truck and spade and headed up to the orchard. 

We will shortly be having French drains installed in an attempt to better handle the run-off of rain from the field upslope of the cottage.  The orchard has an old paved path along the course of the new drain and this is likely to get destroyed during the excavations. I thought it best if I lifted the paving slabs and stacked them out of the way, rather than have to pick up fragments of slab at a later date.

I had lifted and stacked twenty of the slabs before exhaustion set in, and I wandered back to the house and slumped on the sofa. Both of us were exhausted and did little other than eat this evening. We were in bed by nine o'clock and snoring not long after

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* I have a petrol powered, long reach hedge trimmer which is a must for the upper portions** of the hedges, but it is heavy and awkward for the lower sections. I am hoping the new battery powered trimmer makes the lower sections less effort.

** Some of these require a step ladder, even with a long reach hedge trimmer.

The Tricky Pooh

 Friday the 13th, unlucky for some, especially if you are Dog #4 AKA The Rat.

It is strange how a single event can set the course for the day, and that is exactly what happened today. 

For a couple of weeks 30% has been nagging encouraging me to give The Rat a haircut. She does not enjoy going to the dog grooming salon, so it falls to me to keep her coat reasonably neat and tidy. I must admit that I have neglected my duties recently and she currently peers from beneath a large mop of red hair. The reason for the neglect is not pure laziness. My eyes have been very sore recently and I really didn't want to be clipping a dog. The task produces a vast quantity of hair and it get's everywhere ... including my eyes.

Anyway, back to the story. I was woken early this morning by The Rat. She wanted to be let out for a pee, so I climbed from my bed, wandered downstairs and let her out of the front door.  As she capered around the garden, I headed to the kitchen and made coffee. While the kettle boiled The Rat caught my attention. She was pacing to and fro on the lawn, circling and performing a strange little dance. 

I realised that this was a canine pre-pooh ritual and was about to wander away when I noticed that she was having a tricky pooh and ended up with, shall we say, a rather messy rear end. Her coat was definitely in need of a clip and that became my job for day.

The Rat is something of a drama queen and has a tendency to squeal at the slightest nudge. This a nervous reaction rather than a pain response, but it dictates how she is clipped. A trip to the groomers will put her on edge and having strange people attempt to manhandle her results in a very upset dog. As a result I clip her at home in an environment she knows. I also clip her at a gentle pace with plenty of breaks for biscuit treats* and play.

By lunchtime I had done her head and body and she was running around looking like she had just tried on a set of Ugg boots.**

The afternoon session focussed on her legs and feet and I can report that I now have a dog that can be walked in public, without fear of ridicule.***

I'm bloody freezing!

After an afternoon snooze that is exactly what we did. 30% and I took a wander down the lane, as far as the little bridge, before we returned home.

That pretty much sums up my day, although I did experience a surge of motivation in early evening and got the back lawn mowed before dinner.

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* She was not impressed by the soggy custard cream I offered at break no. 1

** A set of four, obviously!

*** A further session will be required to tidy up her feet, but that can wait for a day, or two, or three ...

Thoughts on Beetroot Chutney

This morning was taken up with a visit to the Ophthalmology clinic in Worcester. This time it was 30%'s turn, as she was having her second cataract operation. All went smoothly and we were home and drinking a desperately needed coffee just before midday.

Understandably 30% was feeling somewhat maimed and spent a good chunk of the afternoon sleeping.

I therefore headed to the kitchen and assembled the ingredients for a batch of beetroot chutney.  For some reason I wasn't enthused by the idea of making chutney, but the beets were sat in the bottom of the fridge and the thought of wasting them was anathema to me. I suppose I see a chutney not as food, but as a comestible only slightly more relevant to a plate of food than garnish.

Anyway, I sterilised the jars and spent a couple of hours knocking up about 3 lb, 8 oz of chutney. There was a spoonful left over, which 30% tested with her supper. She has declared it delicious in a cheese sandwich. I'll be leaving it a couple of weeks, before I make any assessment.

This evening I met up with Bubbles and Ben for a few hours fishing at Fladbury.  As we head towards Autumn, the weather has become chilly and by nine o'clock we were packing our tackle back in our cars. I think there may only be a couple more evening's fishing before we resort to the occasional day out through the colder months.

At least it's not carrots again!

The weather has turned unseasonably chilly and the heating kicked in this morning. The first time this Meteorological Autumn ... in other words it's still bloody Summer.

First job of the day was to pick the remainder of the beetroot. After washing them off, I picked a couple of pounds of similar sized roots and put them on to boil. These were then sliced and bottled in picking vinegar. I really hope they are tasty. I will be very disappointed if they aren't very good.

At least it's not carrots again!

In the afternoon I checked on the two hives and topped up the syrup feeders. Each of the colonies has taken in 2.25 litres of syrup since Sunday afternoon. They will either be eating it, using it to produce comb or storing it for the Winter months. Whichever use, it is encouraging that they are actively taking down syrup. In previous years I have had colonies just ignore feed, and that is an easy way to get a beekeeper worried.

I also spent some time in the veg patch with 30%, re-erecting the bean poles brought down by recent high winds. We had originally planned to take them down, but there are still plenty of young beans, so they can stay up for another week or two.

I also have a nagging feeling that I will be making beetroot chutney in the next day or two. I'm not overly keen on the stuff, but 30% is. She is also about to have her second cataract operation, so I'm guessing that it will be me that will be stood over a steaming pot of vinegar, spices and beetroot, while she recuperates.

Home Alone: Tomato Soup & The Orchard

30% was out for a good few hours in the middle of the day.  A village hall sub-committee meeting and a visit to the hairdressers had been scheduled. This meant that I was left to my own devices and I got busy.

In the morning I cooked up a double batch of tomato soup using the recent glut of tomatoes.  The recipe I use is loosely based on Delia Smith's Fresh Tomato Soup with Basil and Parmesan Croutons, but I have never bothered to add basil, or make croutons! I also can't be doing with vegetable stock when chicken stock tastes much better.

Here is my version, and apologies for the combination of AVPD and metric measurements ...

Ingredients:

• 1.4 kg (3 lbs) Fresh Ripe Tomatoes
• 1 pint of chicken stock
• 2 large onions finely chopped
• 2 fist sized potatoes, peeled and diced in to small cubes
• 3 tbsp of olive oil, if you can afford the stuff, have you seen the price recently? Sunflower or Rapeseed oils are fine. Please avoid generic vegetable oil *
• 4 or 5 cloves of garlic, peeled and crushed
• Salt and Black Pepper to season
• 200 ml of double cream

Method:

1. Pour the oil in to a heavy bottomed saucepan and place on a medium heat
2. Add the onion and potatoes and stir well. Continue to cook and stir over a medium heat for about fifteen minutes, until the vegetables have softened, but not browned. Do not short cut this step.
3. While the onion and potato are softening, roughly chop the tomatoes and make sure you don't loose their juice.
4. Add the tomatoes to the pot and cook for a few minutes
5. Add in the stock and garlic and then season to taste
6. Bring the contents to the boil, cover with a lid and simmer for 25 minutes
7. Remove from the heat, blend to a smooth consistency with a stick blender.
8. Stir in the cream

This recipe will make about three litres of soup and it will freeze really well.

The soup making occupied a good chunk of my morning and the afternoon saw me drag The Beast from the shed and head up to the orchard. 

I can report that this year's efforts with the brush cutters and lawn mower are bearing fruit and the orchard looks much better than it has in the preceding three years. Parts of it could definitely now be described as rough pasture rather than bomb site. The remaining parts are not yet at that pont, but the weeds are much reduced and the sparse growth of stinging nettles now peep above the grass rather than tower over my head.**

I spent a tiring couple of hours mowing and was delighted with the result. Each cut seems to require less effort and the nettle growth is greatly reduced. 

We will be having a chap in to dig out the ditches and install French drains in the next few weeks It is planned that he will use the soil to level out the remaining rough areas. I will then be able to sow some grass seed and look forward to a transformed space next year.

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* It will be Palm Oil and the palm oil plantations are horrific monocultures that take the place of Forests filled with orang-utans.

** This is not an exaggeration. Last year I was unable to attend to the orchard, due to a bad back. The nettles reached over 6' in height and covered 50% of the orchard.

Angus Young & the Spider

As I retired to bed last night I looked up at the ceiling and saw an enormous spider. Now I've seen some pretty large insects, including a Tarantula Hawk Wasp taking on a hand sized tarantula, but this one was colossal. I am certain it would win in a fight with a Mute Swan.

It was a fairly quiet day today. The morning was spent picking up supplies in Redditch and I am pretty sure that I saw Angus Young checking out the Back to School section in Tesco.

In the afternoon we were paid a visit by Dot and Buzzer and spent a pleasant couple of hours imbibing tea, eating cake and putting the world to rights.

My eyes are still dry and sore and I became very photosensitive as the day went on, so I limited my time outside the house. I did, however, take a quick look at the hive entrances and can report that pollen is being taken in by both colonies. This is a positive sign as pollen being brought in is indicative that brood are being raised ... ergo my queens are laying.

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The truth may have been slightly stretched here and there in this narrative.

And now the hard work begins

There was no time to bathe in the glow of yesterday's village show success, for today we had a mountain of produce to deal with.

Selecting near perfect, matched specimens for showing means that there is always a significant quantity of imperfect, unmatched specimens left over.  There is nothing wrong with these specimens other than slight defects in appearance. They have been tended over the past weeks and months with care and attention and there is no way that we would let quality produce go to waste.*

This morning we set to processing our harvest.

My first job was to prepare, blanch and open freeze the carrots.  I did a batch a couple of days ago and internet sources suggested that they should be blanched for three to five minutes. I followed this guidance, but have my doubts. I have a suspicion that this is way too long and will lead to soggy veg, so this morning I only blanched them for ninety seconds before chilling, drying and freezing.

With those out of the way, I pulled the beetroot from the fridge and put them on to boil. A pickling vinegar was prepared and by lunchtime I had a kilo of beetroot pickling in a jar. It'll be couple of weeks before we can sample it,  but I can't wait.

At this point I should mention that 30% was fully occupied picking and preparing beans and she also knocked up a rather good tomato soup.

The weather had cleared by the early afternoon, so I grabbed my smoker and headed up to the orchard to check on the bees.

The first colony inspected was nucleus #2. The one that was set up at the end of last week.  The young queen had been released from her cage, but there was so many bees that it was not possible to spot her on the combs. It was also difficult to see whether she had started laying yet, so I can not yet determine whether this has been successful. I transferred the frames and bees to a full sized brood box, added five frames of foundation and re-filled their feeder with syrup. Hopefully I will spot her, or young brood at next week's inspection.

The colony established from nucleus #1 was doing well. The queen was spotted easily and there was plenty of young brood. She has definitely settled in and started laying. Her attendant workers had also started to draw out the comb on the foundation in the brood box and some of it already held capped stores. Again I topped up the colony's feeder and hope the other colony looks like this in a week's time.

After inspecting the hives I headed back to the kitchen and made a batch of celeriac soup with the any other vegetable entry from yesterday's show. I can report that the soup was beautiful and that fresh celeriac has a much deeper aroma and flavour than those from the shop.

That pretty much sums up today's accomplishments, but there are still a lot of vegetables to be harvested. 30% and I are yet to agree on whether we will be pickling or making chutney from the rest of the beetroot.

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* The show entries get eaten too. They may have sat in the village hall for a few hours, but they're still fresher than anything on a supermarket shelf.

The Village Show

We woke to a drizzly, grey morning and, after a hasty breakfast, started our preparations for the village horticultural show.

30% set to baking a trio of cakes, as she would be a member of the team serving refreshments.  

I headed outside and started to pull carrots and lift beetroot in search of perfect specimens.  I then spent a good while sat at one of our water tanks, washing the roots before trimming their tops to the requisite 7.5 cm.  It was then a matter of sorting and comparing them to identify trios of closely matched roots.

By this time 30% had her cakes in the oven and was picking and selecting Tomatoes and French and Runner Beans. I moved on to cabbage, pumpkins and celeriac, before we assembled our produce and headed down to the village hall.

At this point I'll interrupt my narrative to mention that I do have a minor grievance with the Horticultural Society following an episode of rudeness that resulted in me resigning from my role as co-chair.* I therefore might have had a point** to prove at today's show.

Our entries were registered and displayed we headed home for lunch and left the Judges to ... well judge.

"In your face" Horti Club!

30% headed back to the hall well before me to perform her Tea Lady duties and shortly after her departure I received the above photo. It is fair to say that I was delighted that our Vegetable Collection in a Trug, Basket or Box had landed first prize.  Clearly the judges had recognised my abilities to produce an attractive and eye catching design.***

Overall we had a great day and landed three first prize cards, five seconds, three thirds and five Highly Commended awards.  We didn't achieve any silverware, but were placed in all of the Challenge categories.

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* I used to get paid quite handsomely to work with difficult, talentless and rude people. I am certainly not going to do it free, gratis in my retirement!

** That being, that I do know bit about growing and displaying vegetables, which are the key skills that the two arseholes on the committee lack.

*** Sarcasm!

Village Show - results

 Here's a summary of our performance at the Village show earlier today.

For reference all entries are made in 30%'s name for a couple of reasons. Firstly joint entries are not permitted and secondly there is a Challenge Cup for the most points scored by a female entrant. We stand more chance winning in this category than going up against "Fred" who wins the corresponding male category with ease every year.

First Prize

• Vegetable Collection in a Trug, Basket or Box
• Any Other Vegetable - Cabbage
• French Beans, 6 Pods

Second Prize

• 5 Plums, any variety - Damsons, bloom removed 
• 3 Carrots
• 3 Beetroot, any one round variety
• Longest Runner Bean
• Runner Beans, 6 pods

Third Prize

• 3 Carrots
• 3 Beetroot, any one round variety
• Runner Beans, 6 Pods

Highly Commended

• 5 Apples, any one cooking variety
• Any Other Vegetable - Celeriac
• A Specimen Succulent or Cactus
• Dish of Any Other Fruit - Figs
• 5 Plums, any variety - Damsons, bloom present

Silverware

• None this year, but
• 3rd in the most points earned in the fruit classes,
• 3rd in the most points earned in the vegetable class, and
• 2nd in the most points earned by a female competitor

Collecting and Gathering

A fairly short entry for today.

This morning 30% and I hitched the trailer to the Defender and headed beyond Powick* to collect the large hexagonal stone from the Architectural Antiques dealer.  Fortunately there was a chap on-hand to assist and we soon had it loaded on to the trailer and tied down securely.

Back at home it was a simple matter to tilt the trailer on its single axle and let the stone slide gently to the ground. In fact it took longer for us to decide where to stow it than to unload it on to a sack truck.

The main activity for the afternoon was to start preparations for the village horticultural show, which takes place tomorrow.

For the past two years 30% has been awarded the Challenge Cup for the most points awarded in the Fruit Classes.  We were hoping she could do the same again, so more than an hour was spent scouring our apple trees for sets of five perfectly matched cooking apples.  I now know why it is called a Challenge Cup because it was a bloody challenge to find perfect unblemished specimens. This year's weather has not been great for gardeners and our chosen fruit was nowhere near as impressive as previous years.

I just hope the judges are impressed by the bowl of figs and the beautiful damsons** that will be entered too.

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* There is a politically incorrect story about a member of my childhood scout troop (2nd Evesham & Bengeworth) that was nicknamed Powick. It's probably best if I leave it at that.

** Up until today I had always thought of damsons as terrible, sour little excuses for plums. However I finally realised that, for all that time,  I had been sampling them before they were ripe. The little beauties we picked today are packed with flavour and the perfect amount of sweetness.

Emergency Appointment

 My eyes have been incredibly uncomfortable after having the punctal plugs inserted on Monday. For the first couple of days I could actually feel the plug in my left eye when blinking. Fortunately that has now subsided but my eyes are very sore and itchy. It feels like someone has thrown the contents of a vacuum cleaner dust bag in my face.

I managed to get an emergency appointment at the eye clinic this afternoon and have been prescribed a course of steroids with a follow-up in a couple of weeks.

In other news, 30% returned from her trip to London and had a lovely time. I decided that fishing with painful inflamed eyes was not going to be fun, so we spent the evening together catching up on each others' news and planning our weekend.

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Post Script: 30% did eventually notice that I had installed the window bars on the garage, but only after I redirected her back to the spot where she had just collected the recycling bin ... She thinks they look fabulous.

Keeping busy

 My plan for this morning was to install more of the window bars, following on from yesterday's success.  Tools were gathered, measurements were taken and the first set of window bars was carefully lifted into position ... Fuck, that aint gonna work!

In short, the window bars have a decorative, central bar that features a section of wrought iron grape vine. Unfortunately that decorative feature winds around the bar and  makes contact with the window's central glazing bar. This means that some sort of modification will be needed to allow installation.  It looks like I am going to need to build spacers to bring the bars away from the window and buy some longer security screws.

It is starting to look like there is a modicum of truth in yesterday's prediction that I won't finish the job until 2038.

Mildly disappointed, I headed out to the veg patch and made a start on a slightly less impressive task.  I thinned out my carrot crop in preparation for blanching and freezing later in the day.  I was absolutely delighted with the carrots. Most of them are 8" - 10" in length and are lovely and straight. I must admit that I am tempted to put a bunch of them in the upcoming village horticultural show.

I hid the wonky one at the back!

Lunchtime saw the arrival of my most recent eBay purchase; a vintage Record spokeshave, and this set the agenda for the rest of the afternoon. 

A few years ago I acquired a rather nice, old draw hoe with a wide blade.  It is perfect for earthing up potatoes and such like. However, the only problem was that the handle had suffered the ravages of time and badly needed replacing.  I managed to find a suitable handle that flared out at the blade end,* but it would need a lot of work to get the hoe head to fit.

Most of the afternoon was spent shaving the handle down with my new/old tool and repeatedly trial fitting the head.  I thoroughly enjoyed myself and now have a lovely vintage, draw hoe that is likely to outlast me.

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* If you think about it, a hoe head needs to be fitted from the top end of the new handle, the end closest to the user, and be slid down the full length of the shaft down to the business end. The new handle should flare out at this end where the hoe head is seated.  If assembled in this fashion, each pull on the hoe, when in use, will further secure the hoe head against the flared end of the handle.  If you fit it the other way, it will come loose in use and will result in much swearing.