Here we go ...

... the weekend arrived and, after a manic couple of weeks, I had a morning that was not going to be disturbed by the project. Realistically I knew that there was still a lot to do and a weekend off was never going to happen but I was not going to spend all weekend working my tits off. I was going to wind down and spend some time with 30%, TP and the dogs.

We started the day with a walk around the Three Miler. The day was beautiful and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. I planned to take TP over to a local air show later and it looked like a perfect day for the event. Once home TP and I started to get our shit together to go out and then the phone rang...

... it was my Sales Exec. He was concerned about the approval status and the costs and needed to set up a call to discuss. I knew this was coming and accepted an invitation for five o'clock. This gave me a good chunk of the day to spend with TP and 30%. The air show was fine until the rain came in and we then decided that an air field was not a great place to be in a storm. We returned home giving me the opportunity to accompany 30% on a search for curtain and upholstery fabric. We took a trip in to Worcester and we rewarded with a find that will be absolutely perfect for an antique Nursing Chair that 30% has arranged to have restored and re upholstered.

The five o'clock call was pretty much as expected; 90 minutes of trying to sort out uncooperative Europeans and a list of actions that I needed to progress. I spend a further hour issuing the urgent mails leaving the less urgent ones until Sunday.

The evening was a combination of supper, TV and beer; low brow but about all I can manage at the moment.

Sunday was pretty similar; an early morning walk in the pouring rain and then a couple of hours sat in front of the laptop explaining why costs increase when a "guess" is validated and found to be inaccurate.

The afternoon saw us take a trip out and a road block made us take a diversion down a lane I had never driven before. The result was an absolute delight; empty lanes and a stunning three story brick and timber farm house in the middle of nowhere. It was an amazing sight; it had obviously escaped significant restoration and was there in the same role as it had been for the past four centuries as a home for the farmer rather than becoming an insensitively restored country home for a Commuting Senior Manager.

A conference call marked the transition from afternoon to evening and dinner followed. I type this entry looking "forward" to a week of screwing people in to agreements that they would really rather not make.

Through the Gate

It is now Friday evening and I am on the outside of a couple of glasses of Rioja.

Tigger and me have had one hell of a week hence the reason for straying from the hunny and pouring fine wine down my throat. Our final and most significant review of the week took place this afternoon. It was attended by representatives from all over EMEA and from all parts of the delivery organisation. I had set up my easel at the foot of one of the oaks and for the next 90 minutes showed them pictures of Tigger and me on the nelfunt hunt and told them tall tales of our exploits.

At some points in the story some of the more cynical members of the team, who would probably run a mile at them mere thought of a nelifunt let alone the sight and smell of one, asked difficult questions which taxed a bear that is more used to "what would you like for tea Pooh?" or "stick fighting or sitting on a branch, what do you think?". Fortunately the week had involved several briefings with Judge Dread and a Wise Owl and I was mostly well prepared.

The long and the short is that we got through the call and got a "conditional approval". This is the best we could have hoped for and means that we need to run around like mad things shouting to get the conditions met so we can deliver a firm price to the client at the back end of next week.

This week has been totally mentally and physically exhausting and by midday yesterday I had reached the point of information overload. Colleagues were saying stuff on calls and not a syllable was making any sense. I was trying to deal with instant messages and e-mails and attend conference calls at the same time. It is actually the equivalent of sitting in an office working away and having a conversation going on behind you. You hear your name mentioned and have to say "I'm sorry but can you repeat the question my attention was diverted elsewhere".

An hour before the call I actually just stopped work, stepped away from it and watched the TV news. In hindsight I am sure this was a sensible thing to do. I avoided any last minute distractions, false emergencies or  "flapping" by the uninformed and went in to the call giving my overview uncorrupted by any last minute additions.

So now I have an evening to spend with 30% and TP doing nothing. I have had a brief walk with T&M and discovered that the Outside is still there.

I realise that there is still much to do but it also dawned on me that I am moving in to an area where I do have previous experience, very limited experience but at least some. The first solo task I was given in this new role was to support contractual negotiations and final signings and that is where we are about to go. I have therefore trod lightly along a path similar to this.

'ard day

Not a lot that can be said about a day where people are starting to flap about the lack of time and they way they flap is to hold more calls to ensure that there is even less time to do stuff in.

Spare a thought for Tigger who has an awful job of attempting to aggregate a dozen separate cost models in to a single entity with a piece of tooling that is not up to the job. It is incredibly frustrating as the tool takes forever to do anything. This leaves you a lot of time to ponder on how little time you have left and how you can see it being frittered away with no apparent progress.

Today was spent at the Underground Volcano and was call after call after call, interspersed with e-mails, and a good amount of swearing as commitments were broken.

Quote of the day was probably "you need to follow the French process" ...

... "ah, allow yourself to be invaded, collaborate with the Germans, eat invertebrates and go on strike at the slightest provocation".

Away from work I slept and had a rather stern letter from the Cat's Brief. He has read yesterday's Journal entry and his clients find it potentially libellous and demand an immediate retraction and apology. So, sorry Potato and Eddy. There is nothing wrong with your presentation skills and your still-life of  mouse and entrails was a delight.

It's not what you know...

Tuesday saw Tigger and me take a long trip to Nottingham.

They have still not managed to take the dead fox out of the Village well so we needed to take a run up North for our first review of the week. It was a long day but things went very well and there is a chance that the rest of the week will be slightly and I repeat slightly less complicated than we had previously thought.

Yesterday I mentioned that one of the Free Men of the Village was most unhelpful, in fact fucking obstructive, when we asked about arranging and combining reviews. Today we were in a meeting with his Manager and she was most attentive to our tale of woe and within a few minutes two reviews became one and was delayed by 24 hours to give us more time...

... Note to self: Speak to the Organ Grinder not the Monkey.

Later in the day we had a call with an Exec who had a blue fit when asked to review our project previously. The aim of the call was to calm him down and reassure him that we had a reasonable idea what we were doing and that the risks were mitigated. After more than a month of nagging the relevant Specialist Bunny had arranged a call and had the worst slide deck on the planet ready to present. He opened the call and started ...

... it was going to be a car crash. He had the presentations skills of my cat*, missed out key changes and was delivering at totally the wrong level for the audience members. I quickly stepped in to get some seriously key points across and with able support from Judge Dread we soon had the Exec coming around ...

... Note to self: Let the Organ Grinder speak, not the Monkey. Then take the Monkey out side, put it in a sack, give it a good kicking and throw it in the river weighted down with bricks.

Tigger and me returned to the Hundred Acre Wood basking in the glow of a successful day and, for once, I left the laptop closed this evening.

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* Probably including stopping half way through to lick his own arse

Thanks for your help ...

The review cycle is a critical stage in the life cycle of my project and Tigger and I have less than a week to get through a whole series of them. This will be challenging to say the least.

Last week, thinking ahead, we followed the documented process and contacted one of the Free Men of the Village to arrange one of the reviews. Today we noted that we had still heard nothing and thought we had better chase him up...

"That's not my job" was the courteous reply we received. "You need to sort it all out with the Lady who drives the Tractor". OK we thought. Lets think about this and remember I am a bear of little brain. It is not the Free Man's job but he received our request and knew that Tigger and I were in the full throws of a nelifunt hunt. But he couldn't be arsed to assist. Tigger dutifully contacted the Lady with the Tractor, as he likes farm machinery, and she said "Oh, the Free Man of the Village sorts this out" ...

Tiger and I then spent a few minutes inventing some new words. I should hasten to point out that the Lady with the Tractor was very nice and agreed to put everything right for us.

We had further contact with the Free Man later in the day as we need to show some pictures and some words during the review. We already have them drawn and written and Owl has checked the spelling but apparently they are on the wrong sort of paper. We advised that we were very busy and did we need to draw them all again. He did what could now be expected of him and just said "No, re-draw them". He made no attempt to check or argue the case of two nelifunt hunters he just stuck to the party line except where it involves him doing anything and then he changes the process to suit himself.

As I said a couple of days ago "If you are not helping you are an arse hole"....

.... and as Tigger has said "Don't swear dear, it really isn't polite and it makes you sound like a complete wa......"

Work 'n Play

Sunday was similar to Saturday except that it was 24 hours later.

I worked on and off throughout the day and at one point in the morning actually had a formal three way conference call with one of our HR colleagues. It rapidly became apparent that we were all speaking different languages - LITERALLY - and a further call will be needed tomorrow in an attempt to clarify the mud.

Away from the laptop the dogs were walked and the PORN mower was given it's second outing. Its deck was lowered a notch and away we went. TP has suddenly shown a keen interest in lawn mowing since the evil bastard Sovereign has been deposed and took over the task, allowing me to drink coffee and mow the lawn simultaneously.

Back on the subject of work, there was a ray of light in the afternoon. Wise Owl has been away for a week and both Tigger and I really could do with some of his guidance. In a desperate attempt at contact I sent him a text asking if he was back in work tomorrow and whether I could grab some of his time. I got a positive response and will finally get an expert view on how deep in the mire we really are.

I suppose I had better get an early night as this week is going to be far harder that last.

A Novelty

On reflection Saturday was very ordinary and that was a good thing.

After a leisuirely breakfast it was a quick trip to the feed supplier to pick up some Layers Pellets and then in to Stratford for a few chores. Once back home it was time for lunch and a walk with T&M under skies that threatened a downpour. Fortunately the rain held off, apart from a few drops as I walked up the hill.

In the afternoon I returned to the laptop and spent a few hours trying to keep the project on track. As referenced in today's title, The Novelty was that I did not have a telephone stuck to the side of my head or someone trying to catch my attention using Instant Messenger software as I tried to work. I did spend some time catching up with Golfy but that is always fun and a light heated chat which keeps us on track is always welcome.

The late afternoon saw TP return from a trip to see his Grandma and the evening saw us dine with one of TP's mates and his family. 

Next week is likely to be even more intense that the one just passed and I am approaching it with the view of "do what you can in the time that you have" ...

... Oh, and "anybody who doesn't help is a complete arse hole"

As if I didn't have more than enough to do

The working day has been chaotic. The Legionnaire in the Village Well refuses to come out and no-one can visit the Village until the Authorities say so. They say it is an "elf and safety" issues but I have heard nothing of Elves and I think it is just a cover up of a legitimate political protest. If I have the time I will see if I can google why there is a Legionnaire in the well, what he is protesting about and why we can't listen to his valid political objections.

He is causing me problems and I have had to re-arrange a vital meeting to a completely different location as well as juggle and field the numerous questions and demands that are coming my way.

So there you have it; calls and e-mails and as we near the "drop dead" date more and more work streams suddenly need my urgent and vital attention on matters that really need more time and detail to address. We really are trying to "cram a quart in to a pint pot". At the moment it feels more like a good sized lake.

"Ah" I hear you say "but you have Tigger at your side, pointed stick at the ready to take on the nelifunt". That is correct. I am not alone, but I was today as Tigger had planned to meet up with some pals in a field where they would all play with their sticks and their balls. This is not a game for me. Apparently Tigger is not one of the best at this game and tends to spend a lot of time with his face down in the long grass. The more he talks about this game the less appealing it seems.

I finally paused for breath around half past five and stepped out to take T&M for their walk. It was a beautiful June day and the walk allowed me to clear my head. Back home I had time for a quick chat with 30% before she disappeared out on a "Girls Night". I then spent another hour or so clearing my "must do's" before nuking a portion of Pork 'n Beans and throwing it down my neck along with a large bottle of Leffe Blonde. Funnily enough I don't remember much after that and woke a couple of hours later just before 30% walked back through the door.

Another 12 hour day

If I look at my calendar it is no joke when I say that, as an absolute minimum. half of every working day is taken up by scheduled meetings. If I then add in the spontaneous calls that are needed to keep the nelifunt hunt on track then I am spending well over seven or eight hours a day on the phone.

One can imagine, therefore, how absolutely delighted I am to hear Christopher Robin and other senior Villagers decide to arrange further calls to monitor progress. They are well aware that there is much to do and little time and their response is to steal and interrupt what little I have left.

I have a document that absolutely must have the first draft finished by tomorrow morning. I also had to pop down to the Village for a couple of meetings and to say farewell to my old Boss. So there you have it meetings and calls and documentation is the order of the day. I climbed down off my favourite branch and drove in to the village where I found that it was shut due to problems with the local well. Apparently they had found a dead fox in it, or a Legionnaire, or something. A polite gentleman turned me away and so with much huffing and puffing I climbed back in the Defender and drove back home.

I had just wasted over an hour driving to an office that was shut and would now not be able to say goodbye and more importantly thank a departing colleague for whom I had developed a great respect.

Before I climbed back on my favourite branch I put a big sign at the bottom of the tree. It said

The sign seems to have worked and I have just about finished the draft. I will now wreak havoc in The Hundred Acre Wood by telling the bunnies and weasels that they now need to read it and revise their relevant sections. I have my doubts whether some of them can actually read after some of their input over the past few days.

Quote of the Day ...

... "I'm fed up of dealing with fucking idiots".

"As the completion date nears it is getting very hard to find the time to do what needs to be done and some of our colleagues are not as strong as they could be"

You can take your pick of which one I prefer but both of these, or very similar, have left my lips over the last few days.

Let's just say it is sometimes very surprising how hard it is to get the right people down in The Hundred Acre Wood especially considering the size of the nelifunt we are hunting...

... "Look Tigger, I can see it from a mile away. It's fucking ginormous"...

... "So can I Pooh but please don't swear. It's not polite and makes you look like a cu......."

Pass the Oxygen

Today has been long and hard ... Ooh, Matron!

In response,  "if only Mr Williams".

Most of the day has been spent on conference calls with the gaps filled with urgent emails. Have we made progress? I'm not so sure. Have we survived? Yes, definitely. The day is not over yet and I have a further call at nine o'clock this evening with a US colleague. I am not able to guarantee that I will be tea-total but sobriety will reign and I will limit myself to only a small glass of something with dinner. 

Away from work I took T&M for a wander around the Three Miler, or so I thought...

... Just outside the Village we came across two ladies walking their dogs in the same direction. After  general greetings and niceties we are now in the socially awkward position where they are trying to continue their chat and I am beside two people I don't know when I would much rather be on my own. One of them made a comment along the lines of "you can push on if you like, unless you want to listen to a chat about design" which suggested that they were going through similar thought processes. So I upped my pace and made a little headway on them. The thing is that they have they easy part of the bargain here. All they have to do is slow their pace for a while and we will soon have a comfortable distance between us. The problem was that they hadn't worked this out and seemed to now be using me as a pace maker. So there I was striding out like some exercise mad power walker to maintain a comfortable gap.

There was over a mile at this pace before I reached the top of the hill and made my escape via a footpath across the fields and could return to my normal pace. I was not surprised to find that I was home a full quarter of an hour earlier than I expected to be.

The evening was quiet but for the call with the US. I spent an hour on a very useful call but it is a shame that it didn't take place a full two weeks ago. I am wondering if, somewhere, my escalations have finally had a slight effect?

Bank Holiday Monday.

What a miserable day.

Here we are at the end of May and the weather was atrocious. It has poured down for most of the day but fortunately, or was it unfortunately, we had enough to keep us occupied inside.

I woke early and spent the first hour or so firing off a few work e-mails whilst 30% lay in. Many of my European colleagues are in work today so it paid to keep an eye on the in-box and I managed to get hold of a key Swiss resource and induct him in to the brotherhood. Periodically throughout the day I have been dragged back to the lap top to fire off other emails or deal with questions to keep the beast of a project moving. I should also add that my loathing of my Luxembourg colleagues increases further with each truly irrelevant e-mail that they send.

Away from work we finished scrubbing the bedroom floor, or at least the bits that show, and now need to decide on a suitable finish for the floor and a top class doctor for our knackered hands. Basically it was a hands and knees job involving hot soapy water and metal scouring pads. The floor has come up a treat but we both have very sore fingers and have lost several layers of skin.

We finally finished the floor in the early afternoon and collapsed on the settee. It took a concerted effort to drag ourselves away from some vintage James Bond* to take T&M for a walk.

It is now early evening and the dogs are dried and I am on the outside of a fine piece of brisket that 30% slow cooked during the course of the afternoon. I now have a few hours of peace before the volleys start again tomorrow.

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* On Her Majesty's Secret Service - George Lazenby, Diana Rigg, Joanna Lumley & Catherine Schell to name but a few of the Stars

Alcoholics or Scrubbers

That pretty much describes us today.

The morning started with a couple of escalation e-mails to try to alert those in command that all is not well with the time-scales that have been set for our project. Once those were out of the way we breakfasted and then took a trip in to the Supermarket.

30% had found a 2009 Saint Emilion which has been reduced from £14 per bottle down to "2 for a tenner" on an earlier visit and having sampled it we decided to put a few bottles away in the cellar.  There were a few other decent wines with similar savings and when we arrived at the checkout our trolley had 26 bottles of wine and not a lot else. As it says in the title we must have looked like a couple of Grade A alcoholics a with 5 boxes containing wine, 2 packets of kettle chips, a French stick and some pate. That's one hell of an evening.

Back home, the "groceries" were put away, lunch was had and the dogs were walked. I did the walking whilst 30% dropped TP over at "Horrible Henry's" for a sleepover. We were alone at last and headed for the bedroom ...

... with buckets of hot soapy water and scouring pads. no, it's not some strange fetish, we had finally found the time to scrub away the years of grime, paint splashes and polish from the bedroom floorboards. We both spent a good few hours on our hands and knees and can report some progress. By 6.30 we were both tired and creaking and decided to call it a day and call on a very local Saint for succour. No surprises that my chosen patron was, of course, St Emilion.

Away from drink and hard labour my day is now punctuated by the need to turn the eggs. I am referring to the dozen Welsummer eggs that Village Idiot liberated from a pile of cake ingredients and passed my way. I have a very basic incubator. It is little more than a polystyrene box with heat provided by a light bulb and air circulation provided by a computer fan. Add a little circuitry and a temperature probe and basically you have robot chicken mark 1.

It is so basic that the eggs need to be turned three times a day to mimic the action of the broody hen as she rearranges them beneath her during the day. The turning ensures that the embryo develops correctly and remains in the centre of the egg. If not turned it can settle against the shell and developmental defects can occur.

The final picture is a shot of the inside. A pencil cross on one side of each egg shows me which have been turned and which need to be turned. Incubating a batch of eggs is great fun and watching them hatch is a truly amazing experience but I have another 20 days of waiting to go and there are no guarantees.  As the old adage goes "Don't count your chickens before they've hatched".

Out with the old ...

... in with the new.

And so it came to pass that the lawn mower has expired. We have given it a fitting send off and yesterday evening saw us dressed in animal skins, dancing around a fire celebrating the demise of the evil bastard. As we whipped ourselves in to a frenzy of excitement we ripped the damned thing apart with our bare hands and trod its bones in to the dust as we celebrated its death. Once the blood lust was over I retired to the lap top to make a decision about its replacement.

30% and I had set our budget and we knew that we needed a mower with an 18" cut in view of the size of the garden. After a bit of research we had decided on a McCulloch and had found one at Homebase with a 15% discount provided we made the purchase today. I reserved one on line last night and this morning 30% and I climbed in to the Defender and popped in to collect it.

At this point I am almost ashamed to admit that I actually bought it in Evesham. This may seem a bit rich after my recent rant about what an arsehole of a place it has become but it was the only place that had the selected model in stock and this proves my point as it is the only place in the locality which cannot seem to maintain any effective retail operations. We are, after all, talking about the town where the high spots of the High Street are a Coral Bookmakers, a Newsagent you have never heard of and a range of shitty Insurance Brokers. Trust me take a look and you will see absolutely nothing to draw you in to part with your hard earned cash. In other words I went to Evesham as it can't actually sell anything and therefore had the selected mower.

30% and I did a quick trawl of the retail park and decided that neither B&Q nor Countrywide had anything to divert us from the McCulloch and so we wandered in to Homebase. A quick check of the high level signage and we were soon in the Garden Department checking out our selected model. And then it happened ...

... there was a break in the clouds, thunder rumbled and lightning flashed and our attention was drawn to the adjacent model. There it stood like a fine thoroughbred stallion; snorting and pawing the ground. It was green, it had all the features I desired, it was self propelled ...

... it was THE PORN MOWER.

My, aint she perdy

She is fantastic. She cuts, she mulches and has a 60l grass box. She has speed control and centrally adjusted deck height. Does she cut wet grass? She will cut grass under 15' of water she is that good. I noticed that she has a control that has a tortoise symbol at one end and a hare symbol at the other and that was the clincher. Anything powerful enough to mulch a rabbit let alone chop up a tortoise had to be the mower for me and so the deal was done and within minutes she was being loaded in to the truck.

We were soon home and without a moments hesitation or even the slightest feelings of remorse I chucked the piece of shit Sovereign out in to the cold where I hope it gets stolen or blown up or worse.

Die you bastard! You are nothing to me!

The Porn Mower was soon assembled and later given its initial outing on a damp and very long lawn. She is an absolute delight and cut 8" damp grass with no problem and didn't spill a single gobbet of clippings.

Away from the garden the pork loin I had been curing was removed from the fridge and was washed and soaked in water for an hour before being dried and massaged with black treacle. It was then returned to the fridge where it will sit for another week. The occasional massage with further treacle and we will have a nice piece of black, back bacon.

I have also put the Welsummer eggs that VI acquired in to the incubator this evening. It will now be a long 3 weeks of waiting before we hopefully hear the cheeping of chicks.

You want what, by when...

... You're having a laugh.

Today has been long and not particularly productive. It has been punctuated by a number of conference calls of the "lets get started" / "gee up" variety.  As we are still waiting for fundamental information from our US Masters - for all Golfers that have arrived by mistake, clear off now and go polish your Woods - these are necessary kick off calls but they have little value other than to say "we are about to start, watch this space".

So I have waffled on calls, and in between  I have done what I can and chatted to Golfy. By about 5 o'clock I considered my week finished except for a late call with Christopher Robin's Colonial Cousin. I therefore got up from the laptop and took T&M out for a decent walk. I arrived back at one minute to seven and dialled in to the call expecting something very similar to the earlier ones ...

... How wrong was I. Basically the call went like this; "We're gonna have this baby signed by the end of June". Several people, including myself, went "But we don't have key critical information that we need to develop pricing". To which we were told "We're gonna have this baby signed by the end of June"...

... Oh Fuck, I am screwed. In fact, at the risk of sounding slightly mid Atlantic "I am SO screwed". This is like trying to build a house without any bricks, or signed off plans, or knowing whether we are going with the Veranda and the triple car garage ... and you know what Builders are like for not turning up when they say they will!

One final observation on this turn of events. The final call was scheduled after close of business on a bank holiday weekend. There is very little that can be achieved over the next three days. I can write emails but with no expectation of a reply before Tuesday.

He Scores!

Today has been a busy but frustrating day down in The Hundred Acre Wood. The flow of information from our US colleagues has been non-existent and there is only so much fun that can be had by reminding them of missed commitments on conference calls that they really would rather not host.

Away from the calls I have sent x e-mails to y recipients and received y-s read receipts. I therefore now know that "s" is "s for slacker" and they are the people to keep a close eye on over the next few weeks.

Away from the grind Golfy and I have been playing a variant of Bullshit Bingo over the past few days. This involved Golfy trying to insert the phrase "Wot Badman said" in to as many calls whilst I have the slightly more challenging "Golfy told me to say it".  Obviously the Blog aliases are replaced with our proper names on the calls but that does present an interesting additional challenge and perhaps the opportunity for bonus points.

For the past couple of days Golfy has had a 20 : 0 lead on me as the phrase "wot Badman said" is pretty easy to throw in when asked if he has anything to add. Basically he can use it in many of his utterings as a contextual reference to his invaluable contributions. an example would be "picking up on wot Badman said earlier .... " . I can't actually believe that I am giving him game tactics here. Hopefully he won't read this Journal entry.

I feel that my "Golfy told me to say that" is far harder to fit in to our natural discourse so am claiming 75 points for this mornings effort. I managed a reference to "gaining traction" and when this got a bemused laugh I threw in "Golfy told me to say that". Normally I would have only claimed 25 points but I did hear Golfy start to splutter and I later found out that he had to hit the mute button to conceal his laughter. I am therefore claiming a full 75 points in view of the fact that I drove him in to cover with my perfect delivery.

As we move in to week 2 it is 20 : 75 with all to play for.

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Other News: Village Idiot has just turned up with a dozen fertile Welsummer eggs. VI's long suffering wife is a fine cake maker and a Local Breeder has just provided a few raw ingredients. Shame to put them in a cake as the last time this happened I managed a couple of place cards at the Stratford Poultry show with the offspring. Basically VI's Spouse will use bog standard eggs and the pure breed poultry eggs will go in to the incubator.

I salute those lost in combat ...

Yesterday, actually the day before yesterday, I wrote that a person's identity is all down to perspective.

Potato, for example, is seen by the Dogs as an angel who's appearance announces the presence of cheese. The cheese, on the other hand, sees Potato as DEATH. Now, I hear you all saying "this chap must be short of material as he only wrote this in his last Journal entry", well let me reassure you that it does have some further relevance to today's scribblings.

As you may be aware, the past few weeks have seen me concentrating on getting the bedroom in a fit state for the Decorators and, as a result, the garden has been somewhat neglected ...

... yesterday I hauled the miserable git of a lawn mower from it's lair and tugged mercilessly on it's starter cord as the lawn was definitely up around my arse and needed hacking back. This is where perspective becomes relevant.

I see the lawn mower as an evil bastard who does a barely adequate job and in it's considerable "down time" does its best to persuade other domestic appliances to perform badly. It has caused me personal injury and has also caused damage to The Pile and I recount the incident of the broken double glazing unit and the resultant bill of £250 as evidence of it's malevolent and malicious practices. I have countless other charges of spilling oil and grass clippings and wrist injuries on file also.

Amnesty International, on the other hand, do not. They see it as a political prisoner who has been incarcerated without trial, had adequate nutrition and medical care withheld and has been forced to perform slave labour. Apparently I am an evil  Despot who's appearance in an international court is long overdue.

Well lets just say that yesterday evening saw a little more fodder for AI's propaganda machine. I got the miserable piece of crap up and running and was pushing it to the lawn when its blade stuck a paving slab. The resulting noise was not one for the mechanically sensitive and when I re-started the beast it didn't sound good. Anything that clunks like that AND has a blade spinning round at several hundred rpm is probably not pushed around the lawn without armoured greaves.

I have therefore decided that this is the final straw and the lawn mower will now be pensioned off to Elysian Fields* and I will finally have a new yellow shiny one like my Dad.

On the work front things are starting to crawl forward and Golfy and I took a trip down to The Village and had a productive brain storming session with Christopher Robin, Judge Dread and a couple of other interested parties. We now have a list of things to do and it is time to start to crack the whip. We have a very busy time ahead of us and already certain Bunnies are being examined to see whether they are up to the job.

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* I'm taking it to the tip where it will be recycled which will involve it being tipped in to a furnace and melted down in to ingots - the hell it deserves. AI can go swivel if they think I'm going to spend one penny on "medical care" for the useless bugger.

Picture Post. No. 7

Today I performed the electronic equivalent of shuffling papers as I sat in an information vacuum. This basically translates to "did very little as we haven't a clue what we are doing". The US Team have not yet provided guidance so I sit and wait, doing what I can.

This is not interesting so it is time for another Picture Post. I did have an internal debate about whether Potato was Death of Cheese or a Harbinger of Cheese and I decided that it was all down to a matter of perspective.

If you are the cheese then Potato is definitely the DEATH OF CHEESE as he appears in his furry black cloak with his huge cheese knife slung over his shoulder. One sweep of the blade and the cheese departs, hopefully to a far better place but most probably Potato's tummy. If, however, you are Tyson & Marauder then Potato could well be the Harbinger of Cheese ...

... a furry angel that appears on high* and lo, morsels of mature cheddar shall rain down from on high and good dogs that supplicate shall receive generous portions.

Right, where was I? Oh Yes, I didn't have anything interesting to say so I was going to present a picture post. This one is a shot of The Grand Canyon taken in August 2006.

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Post Script: If you are new to The Journal I suppose I should point out that Potato is one of the cats and Tyson & Marauder are the dogs.

* He's not supposed to be on the worktops in the kitchen

The "Sty" and the Pig

Sunday was pure domesticity.

TP was away having "slept over" at friend's house so 30% and I went in to tidying mode. This is always interesting as, being the patient and restrained type of person I am, you can imagine what happens when I unearth something that falls in to my broad and generally all encompassing definition of crap.

Tidying missions are usually accompanied by a loud narrative of classics including "What the Fuck is this?", "Why the hell am I  the only person who can throw anything away?" and my personal favourite "How bloody hard can it be to put something back where it came from?"

There are also the frequent and very satisfying trips out to the wheely bin. They were especially good today as it had been emptied on Friday which meant that the first few discarded items could be hurled in with great force.

I was actually reasonably restrained today and kept the dark humours at bay and by lunchtime the house looked a lot less chaotic.

The afternoon saw us visited by the Oranges & Lemons Tribe. I say "visited" it was more a "sophisticated robbery"...

... let me explain. Mr O&L has a colleague who rears a few pigs and Mr O&L intimated that he might like a half carcass and then went back to doing what he does best, or at least what he gets paid for. This is, incidentally a quite similar job to the one I do down in the Hundred Acre Wood but that's not important here...

... Where was I? Yes, the half pig. Mr O&L was advised at the back end of the week that the half pig would be ready for collection this evening literally hours before Mr O&L flies out to Germany. The net result of this is that  Dr O&L will be left to run the household and deal with about 35 kg of fresh meat with absolutely no time to prepare. Dr O&L was keen to try a bit of curing and sausage making and popped over for a bit of a chat and to sample a few bits and pieces I have done over the past few months. We had a great time and she departed with my mincer, sausage skins and the box I used for salting an air dried ham. I'm hoping my experiences were useful to her and I did offer to pop over and help out if needed.

The evening saw a gentle ramble around the Three Miler with T, M and 30% and then home for Supper and a quiet evening in.

Quiet Day really

Saturday morning saw me chuck a drill and a toolbox in to the back of the Defender and pop over to Bad Man Senior's house to complete a "little DIY job".

Dad had asked me to come over as he had bought a window awning that needed installing. At the tender age of 78, with one bionic knee and one that he refuses to have replaced, nipping up and down step ladders is really not for him. I arrived and viewed the awning. It was huge. Well it was a lot bigger than I expected being around 8' in length and, as I later discovered, it extends a full 7' out from the wall.

The job went pretty well and it was all done and dusted after a couple of hours plus time for coffee, lunch, fooling around with the dog and general chat. Dad and Step Mum Sue seemed pleased with the results and have booked me in to hang a new door on the conservatory when they get back from their holiday. I advised that the fee for door hanging is a full blown Sunday lunch as Bad Man Senior does a wonderful roast.

Back home it was time for a quick coffee and then it was out in search of curtain fabric. 30% had a sample she liked and, since it also had my approval, we took a trip in to Worcester to see if we could find a stockist. We failed so, 30% will make a purchase next week from the original supplier.

Back home AGAIN and I started a dry cure of a pork loin joint that 30% had picked up in Tesco. This will make a fine piece of back bacon and I may give it a Black Treacle rub to produce another batch of Black Bacon. More on that later in the week.

It was then time for a traipse round the Three Miler with T&M and a few odd jobs before an early Supper as 30% is off out to see her Mum sing in a local Choral Society concert. Apparently I was invited but the invitation got lost after I asked if I was allowed to join in.