Busy doing nothing

Today was one of those days when I seemed to be occupied for most of the day, but, in retrospect, I didn't seem to have achieved much.

The roofers arrived early this morning.  The chimney at the rear of the cottage has been redundant, since we removed the old Stanley oil fired range* back in 2021 and today was the day for its flue to be removed. 

I am pretty sure that I have mentioned that we have had a number of leaks associated with this chimney and, after three or four attempts to prevent them, we decided to just have the damned thing removed. Our roofer said it was for the best. Apparently chimneys are notorious for leaks and if you don't need them, you are better to have them removed.

Anyway, back to the narrative ... The roofers arrived nice and early and blocked the drive with their flat bed wagon. This was no problem and it simply meant that I had an early morning walk down to the local surgery to pick up a prescription.

Once home I returned to my lamp project and finally assembled the components and plugged it in.

Of course it's been wired
by a qualified electrician

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* I'm not a fan of Range Cookers, but was amazed at how many people expected us to install an Aga or Rayburn in place of the festering Stanley Range that lurked in the corner of the kitchen grumbling and burping out the occasional waft of heating oil. Allegedly it provided hot water, central heating and cooking facilities. In practice it seemed to do none of these particularly well. This was evidenced by the fact that the previous owners of the cottage had an electric cooker sat alongside it and the cooker had seen a lot of use.

Basically Range Cookers are pretty much obsolete, they belong to a long gone age when women were at home all day and slow cooked brown, tasteless food on these inefficient monsters. Tastes have changes and I mean in both fashion and palate. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy a good slow cooked stew as much as the next man, but I'll cook it in a 100 watt slow cooker rather than a Range that is burning several litres of fuel oil an hour.

We've got more sense that to spend thousands of pounds on an Aga and then moan about the running costs ... I've met people who have. And our kitchen isn't big enough to have a Range for show and then a proper modern hob and ovens to actually cook on and in.

I've just realised that this is an incredibly long footnote, but "Hey, there you go". 

In summary; we had the manky Stanley Range ripped out in the Spring of 2021, and replaced it with a modern, efficient Worcester Bosch oil fired Combi Boiler, an electric induction hob and an oven. Our house is now warm, we have hot water on demand, we can cook anything we fancy and our oil usage has plummeted.

10cc ?

Or, perhaps more accurately, today's entry should be entitled 2.5cc.

This evening 30% and I headed over to the Warwick Arts Centre to see a performance by 10cc. Anyone of a certain age is likely to recall the Stewart, Goldman, Godley and Creme lineup. However we were well aware that Godley & Creme quit the band years ago, so we had performed a pre-event Google to find out exactly who we were going to see.

The current touring lineup still includes Graham Gouldman plus a supporting cast, several of whom have been touring with the group since the 1970s.

I must admit to being dubious about a rock show where the most of the band were in their 70's and Gouldman is a couple of years off his eightieth birthday. I should not have been such a cynic. The show was absolutely brilliant, delivering the distinctive sound and arrangements that were true to the original releases. We both absolutely loved the show and there were no disappointments with the set list. It included many of their singles including I'm not in love, Wall Street Shuffle, Dreadlock Holiday and an a cappella version of Donna was featured as an encore.

At this point I will give a brief mention to the support act, a solo guitarist going by the name of Seb Wesson. He was fucking awful. He could play well enough, but he made us endure twenty five minutes of self-penned monotony that made the listener want to slit their wrists. It was truly dreadful and I am struggling to understand why he was picked for the tour ... he must have been cheap.  In summary; I've heard better buskers.

In other news, I had a fairly easy day. The morning was spent pottering in the garden where I mowed the verges that border the cottage, took a short walk with the dogs and cleaned the stagnant mess that had accumulated in bottom of one of the garden water butts over the Summer. It was during this task that I think I may have discovered the entrance to Hades.

Obviously cleaning out the stagnant mess involved dumping several buckets of water and sludge. I decided to empty them at the base of one of the boundary hedges and as I poured water from the first bucket I noticed a slit in the ground leading to an obvious void. The slit was about eighteen inches long by about five inches wide and it was very easy to pour the water in to it.  The noise the water made as it entered the void made it clear that the space under ground was large.

My deductive powers reasoned that I had clearly found an entrance to the underworld and I looked diligently for either Cerberus or Orcs and Goblins. I found none of these creatures, but today is Sunday and it might have been their day off. 

Alternatively I may have just located the mythical overflow pipe that runs from our septic tank across the pasture next door.

Another tube of eye drops

This morning we headed in to Alcester to visit the opticians. 30% needed to pick up her new spectacles and I needed a short consultation with the Optician.

For the past three weeks I have been treating my eyes daily with steroid eye drops.  The Specialist who prescribed them had made clear that I needed to be referred to a Cornea clinic if the condition had not significantly improved. My eyes are still not great hence today's consultation.

The Optician agreed to make the referral and we both left as satisfied customers. 30% was particularly satisfied as she negotiated a very good deal on a new pair of prescription sunglasses. All I got was some greasy gunk to smear on my eyelids before I go to bed each night.

We then popped in to see Dot 'n Dave and spent a lovely hour catching up on their news before heading home.

My afternoon was focussed on projects and the garden. My lamp base was given another coat of Danish oil and I then exhausted myself by dragging the beast from the shed and spending a taxing ninety minutes mowing the rough grass in the orchard.

If it's not getting stuck in one of the many ruts and dips, it gets lodged on windfall cooking apples. It is a real struggle but well worth it. In my mind's eye I can still see the overgrown and cluttered mess that the orchard was. It is still far from perfect, but it is so much better.

What hell is this?

Having audited and conditioned my shoe collection earlier in the week, this morning found me headed over to our nearest IKEA store in Wednesbury.

IKEA stock some rather good shoe racks. They are quite utilitarian, but perfect for my four pairs of shoes and some other footwear that we really don't need to count or discuss here.* 

After struggling with their less than user friendly web portal, I eventually managed to get the racks ordered and paid for. And this morning found me trundling up the M5 to Wednesbury to collect them.

I found the store and encountered signposting that was, shall we say, somewhat erratic! I eventually located the click 'n collect car park having performed a circuit of the store grounds. It appears that one either needs to be telepathic or be one of those maze solving rats to find the direct route to the goods collection point.

I really should have thought about this. Anyone who has visited an IKEA store is familiar with it's maze like layout and the fact that, once you enter the store, you have committed yourself to a soul destroying traipse around this plasticky retail labyrinth.** 

Apparently they have developed this retail concept further and now apply it to the layout of their carparks too.

Anyway, back to the narrative, the click 'n collect process worked well and a nice chap was soon placing the racks in the back of the Defender. That was when I made a bad decision ... 30% suggested that I pop in to the store and have a look at the houseplants and perhaps see if they have a nice Edison squirrel cage type light bulb for my lap project. I did this and instantly regretted my decision. 

I wasn't in there that long, but it was just so grim; a maze of identical, cheaply produced stuff that you buy to make your house look exactly like your neighbours.  Don't get me wrong; IKEA does have the occasional nugget. A little household gem that you really do need, but on the whole their product lines are unexceptional.

It really is the death of individuality.

Right! Rant over, in other news after a morning of retail hell, I managed to get the lawns at the front of the house mowed in the early afternoon and made some progress on my lamp project. The wooden base has now been sanded smooth and the first coat of Danish oil has been applied.

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* I forgot to mention my scabby gardening boots in Wednesday's Journal entry. Mind you, boots are definitely not shoes.

** I swear we bumped in to Theseus the last time we visited and I'm sure some of the customers had a touch of the minotaur in their genetics too.

Sorting out the drainage in the lower field*

A while back I'm fairly certain that I mentioned that we had arranged for a drainage contractor to come in and improve the very basic ditch that attempts to cope with the rain that runs off the large arable field upslope of the cottage.

Well, after several delays, he finally turned up about a fortnight ago, advised that the ground was now far too wet and that his excavator would totally trash the garden. Basically we would have to suck it up until the garden dried out a bit, or we had a very heavy frost.

It is fair to say that we were somewhat annoyed pissed off by the situation a) because the delays were caused by the contractor, not us and b) because we made crystal fucking clear just how wet the garden became once the Autumn rains arrived.

As I thought more about the work he proposed to do, I became less convinced by his drainage solution, so we called in another local company to have a look, let us know their proposals and give us a price. This morning the company representative arrived and I talked him through the draining and damp issues we were experiencing and felt much more comfortable with his proposal.

For example, I asked about when they would be able to perform the work as the ground could get very wet and could end up looking like The Somme. I was reassured that they will use mini diggers and ground mats to prevent that very problem. He also confirmed that his equipment will be able to access the orchard via the gate rather than having to smash its way through the hedge.

We're waiting to see what their quote looks like, but am almost certain that Contractor A will be told we no longer require his services.

In other news, Hobson and Whiffler spent their day at the dog groomers and arrived home looking absolutely splendid.  The recent spell of mild, rain free weather has dried out the grass and I was able to spend a merry hour mowing the lawns at the rear of the cottage. I also managed to make a start on a little project in the workshop.**.  30% has got us booked in at the local surgery for our travel vaccinations and our neighbour's son has agreed to look after the chickens while we are in Egypt ... it's all coming together!

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* "Oh, if you could Ted ... yes, thank you.  Do you like Tina Turner, Ted?"

** A rather fine piece of rustic elm is being transformed in to a lamp

The answer is four pairs

 The day started with me continuing the archeological excavation of the bottom of the wardrobe.

I did not find the secret door to Narnia, but I did find footwear that I'd forgotten I owned,* and that hadn't been worn in many, many years.

They were all dusted down and the rest of the day was spent giving them a coat of polish, or the appropriate treatments for suede and waxed leather.

At the end I took stock and accurately reported to 30% that I only have four pairs of shoes.  She witnessed the array of footwear spread across the bedroom floor and spluttered something along the lines of "this is verging on ridiculous, you are not buying anymore bloody shoes"! 

I suppose the twelve pairs of boots, two pairs of sandals and the new pair of Josef Siebel mules might be what pushed her to this irrational response.

It's probably a good job I didn't point out the two pairs of Wellingtons and the Sidi motorcycle boots that hadn't been included in this audit of my footwear collection.

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* The suede desert boots, the sandals and the loafers will be useful for the upcoming Aswan trip.

How many pairs?

 I decided that I deserved another lazy day, so don't be expecting anything at all from today's entry.

Basically it was a masterclass in unproductive pottering. I managed to effectively fill an entire day with virtually nothing to show for it all. That, I suppose, is an achievement in itself.

It has been a few weeks since I last walked the Three Miler with Bobbyn and, today, we finally got our collective acts together and managed to walk the dogs. B has taken this week off work, so we walked in the late morning and then lunched together. 

After B's departure 30% and I decided that a snooze was in order and a sizeable chunk of the early afternoon was consumed by that activity.

I then decided that doing nothing is quite challenging and looked for a something productive to do. I had recently cleaned my walking boots and today's walk down the filthy lanes had left them looking like they hadn't been cleaned in weeks. I therefore decided that I would dig out all of my shoes and give them a polish.

Unfortunately I had forgotten how many pairs of shoes and boots I own.* This is going to take a day or two to complete.

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* I love buying shoes. I am a shoe addict. 30% and I think it is possibly because they offer instant gratification. Let me explain; I have an odd body shape and trousers always need to be shortened and I prefer to buy custom shirts that have a shorter sleeve length, rather than off the peg items. The result is that  there is always a delay between buying trousers or shirts and actually being able to wear them. Shoes, however, are a different matter all together. I buy them and can wear them straight away ... basically instant retail gratification.

Sods Law

You really could not make this up!

After weeks of hard work on the hedges, we looked out this morning and saw a tractor pull up at the gate to the neighbouring pasture. Within minutes it was trundling around the field boundaries beating the overgrown hedges into submission with a flail cutter.

As is says in title of today's entry; "Sods Law!"

Now I appreciate that we would still have had a huge amount of work to do, but if the hedge cutting contractor had turned up at the beginning of the month he would have taken the top out of about 75 yards of hedging that borders our gardens ... That is not an insignificant amount.

Ho hum, I'll take an optimistic perspective on this and note that the hedging contractor has removed the few, but irritating out-of-reach stems that I had not been able to cut. The job is finally finished.

In other news; Dog #4 aka The Rat was taken for a follow-up appointment at the Vet's. She is fine and can return to being her normal self.* Interestingly the vet suggested that a dose of paracetamol** could be administered if her back injury flares up again.

As for me, I did very little for the rest of the day. The past few weeks have been quite intensive and we both felt that we deserved a rest.

30% took this to extremes by booking a holiday and I can report that we will be spending a week in Aswan later on in November. I cannot wait.

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* That being, spending all day snoozing on a bed and then leaping around like a pig on springs when there seems to be a chance of a walk.

** One half of a 500mg tablet for a dog her size. 

Finished!

We've finally finished cutting the hedges. Well, for this year anyway!

No home should be without one

For the past two days I have been mostly stood at the business end of this little monster, feeding it the huge amount of brash that we had accumulated in the orchard and garden. 

brash, in British English, noun.  loose rubbish, such as broken rock, hedge clippings, etc; debris 

30% and I finally finished early on Sunday afternoon and the pumpkin patch is now home to an enormous pile of shredded wood, leaves and stems.

We started work on the hedges at the beginning of the month and have been hard at every day, except when it was pissing down with rain, or a family funeral needed to be attended. I've already mentioned that the hedges hadn't been cut for at least two years and needed at leat 6' of material taking off the top of them. 

We have dealt with branches up to 4" in diameter and covered with evil spines that are 2" long. As for the brambles, don't mention the brambles! They were twisting, branching stems up to 20' long with thorns that snag and grab at everything; your arms, your legs. They do their best to hinder every attempt to cut them, gather them and feed them in to the shredder. It almost became a vendetta to deal with the bloody things!

Our hands and legs are scratched and, despite gloves, splinter removal became a nightly occupation, but we have finally finished. 250 yards of agricultural hedging has been tamed and shredded.

This evening we celebrated this massive achievement with a Chinese takeaway. as neither of us had the energy to cook.

It's been a busy couple of days ...

and I don't expect the weekend to be any quieter.

Let me explain. Having finished the hedge cutting, I spent Thursday morning tidying up my workshop. It had become a dumping ground for hedge cutters, chargers and fuel cans and these were put away.

I then headed over to Bromsgrove to pick up poultry food and wood shavings from the agricultural supplies store  and then on to the Industrial Estate, where I collected a couple of oil filled heaters. 

One of the bedrooms in the cottage has a fitted wardrobe that can become a little damp during the Winter months. We hatched a plan to install a couple of low wattage, oil filled heaters to see whether that helped alleviate the issue.

It will be no surprise that the afternoon was spent installing the two heaters.

Moving on to Friday, I headed in to Redditch straight after breakfast and picked up a few electrical supplies from the DIY store. On my return I headed back to the bedroom and spent a couple of hours sorting out the electrical supply for the two heaters ... let's hope they work.

In the early afternoon the local hire company's delivery driver arrived with the shredder. We have hired it for the weekend and hope to deal with the huge piles of hedge cuttings* that currently decorate the property.  The driver gave me a comprehensive walk through of the machine. It is a tracked, self propelled machine capable of, allegedly, dealing with branched up to 3" in diameter. If it is as good as it is described, it will be perfect for the material we need to shred and the fact that it will need to be manoeuvred up in to the orchard.

30% and I then spent the next couple of hours working through the first pile of cuttings and familiarising ourselves with the shredder. It seems to work well and, at the end of our first session, we filled a builder's bulk bag. Allegedly this is close to a cubic metre of mulched material for use in the garden next year.

As the light started to fade we headed indoors and got ourselves clean and tidy. We had arranged to meet up with a few members of the coven for a Thai buffet at one of the local pubs ... I really wish that we hadn't bothered. The food was average at best, not particularly warm and the group at the next table were so loud that we couldn't hear each other speak.

A group decision was made not to linger at the pub, so we were home before nine o'clock and asleep not long after that. As I said in the first line of today's entry "I don't expect the weekend to be any quieter".

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* I was going to use the word "trimmings" here, but that doesn't describe 6' to 8' long branches that are easily wrist sized at the thick end and covered in evil thorns!

I'm not planning anything beyond Thursday

I opened my underwear drawer this morning and there were only two pairs of underpants remaining. Normally this drawer is crammed with them, so I am taking this as an ominous portent. Clearly I will not be needing pants* after tomorrow, hence the title of today's Journal entry.

This morning started with a trip in to Alcester to drop off a jar of honey and a pack of home cured bacon for Nelson at the bakery. I received a freshly baked sausage roll in exchange and walked away thinking that he had got the better part of that deal. 

On the way home I filled up a can of petrol at the local petrol station, as this was needed to fuel the long-reach hedge cutter.

Back at home, I mixed up a litre of 40:1 two stroke mix fuel and refilled the hedge cutter. The rest of the day was spent up in the orchard, where I finally finished the last length of hedge.

There may be a couple of hard-to-reach twigs that still need lopping, but we can now see out in all directions.

As I have now finished this monumental task I wonder if I am now surplus to requirements ... hence the empty underwear drawer.

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* or anything else that is essential to life, such as air, water, comestibles, a well organised workshop and so on ...

The end is in sight

 It was another day of hedge cutting, but, as it says in the title of today's Journal entry, "the end is in sight". 

The final length of hedge is up in the orchard, bordering the upslope, arable field and is about thirty five yards long. It is mostly hawthorn with the occasional elder, holly and ash tree and, like all of the other boundary hedges, hasn't been cut for a couple of years.

It needed a good five or six feet taken out of the top of it and, using a short ladder, loppers and the long reach hedge cutter, I have completed about two thirds of it and I plan to finish it tomorrow.

Obviously our pile of brash grow bigger daily and 30% has arranged the hire of a wood chipper for the upcoming weekend to deal with it.  So no prizes for guessing what Saturday and Sunday's entries will be about.

The only other thing to report is that we spent the evening meeting a lady who boards dogs.  We both quite fancy a few days of Winter sun and, obviously, the dogs will need to be looked after while we are away.* The meeting went well and Whiffler, Hobson and The Rat all got on well with her dogs. 

All we need to do now is fill out her forms and find out when she has availability for them.

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* The chickens will too, but that is relatively easy. I am fairly sure that the son of one of our neighbours will do that for a few quid.

Quote for the day

"I think I have had near fatal vegetable poisoning. That's my third visit to intensive care this morning!"

First thing this morning Dog#4 was taken in to the Vets. She developed severe stress symptoms yesterday evening and was not a happy girl. The vets think that she has hurt her back and we came home with enough sedatives and painkillers to calm an enraged Kodiak bear. 

This is an ongoing problem with The Rat, as these symptoms tend to flare up every couple of months. Normally they subside within a few hours, but this is one of the worst occasions. Fortunately she is now resting relatively peacefully* on one of the beds.

I spent the rest of the day hedge cutting and can report that the best view on the house has now been restored. This involved trespassing in to the neighbouring fields with my long reach hedge cutter, and taking out the growth that could not be reached from our property.

I've included a snap. It's not a great picture, but it shows the simple but lovely view.

Clean windows would have improved it!

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* Or, more likely, is off her tits on doggy painkillers and is dreaming of God knows what!

As you can see, it can be quite fabulous

Nothing, nada, zilch

 There is nothing to see here.

After a hectic and emotionally draining week I did very little today. Vegetables were dug from the garden for dinner and I assisted 30% by rolling and timing a stuffed breast of lamb joint.

I made a minor modification to a little stand that supports one of the poultry drinkers and that is just about it.

Back on the hedges tomorrow ... sad face emoji!

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.