More gardening

 The plan for today was to transplant the tomato plants to the greenhouse. It almost happened ...

Step one was to clear the chickweed, that had sprouted over the Winter, and that was soon hoed and raked up.  I noticed that the soil was very dry so I followed that up by forking in a couple of barrows of compost. The organic matter will add nutrients and also assist in holding on to moisture. A few handfuls of meat, bone and blood meal were also scattered to further boost the soil fertility.*

I then drenched the soil with several watering cans of water,  but I still wasn't convinced that the soil was sufficiently moist.  Bugger it!  I fired up the well pump and spent the next twenty minutes saturating the parched soil with a couple of hundred litres of water.  Having finished the soaking I decided that planting should be delayed until tomorrow to allow the water to permeate through the soil.

This gave me some spare time, so the afternoon was spent on my knees hand weeding the path that runs through the vegetable garden and around my raspberry canes.  This took most of the afternoon, but was reasonably easy work and very satisfying to see a nice clear path emerge.

I also noted that we seem to have a nice crop of raspberries forming.

---

* We have tried growing tomatoes in grow bags, but we really don't rate them. They are difficult to water, difficult to add supports for the tomato vines, and the plants just don't seem to do that well in them. Pots or  planting directly in to the ground seems to work much better.

A day off

 ... or rain stopped play!

The forecast rain came in overnight and stayed for most of the day.  Our original plan was to have a day in the tomato greenhouse, hoeing the weeds, digging in some compost and planting out the young tomato vines, however the miserable weather did nothing to encourage us, so we spent much of the day indoors.

I reluctantly headed to the computer and spent most of the morning proof reading a draft schedule for the Horticultural Society Autumn Show and can report that the chap in charge of production is a clueless fuckwit.  It looks like it has been assembled by an eleven year old who was intent on using every font, size and colour available to them. It looks fucking awful. Now you might say it is all a matter of taste but I have done a fair bit of desk top publishing in the past and this chap has ignored, or is unaware, of the relevant guidelines and style pointers to produce a decent looking document.

Anyway, I critiqued the draft and sent back a concise, but politely worded, review outlining my suggested revisions and corrections. Let's see what the rest of the committee come back with and what the final version looks like.

Having found my administrative mojo, I persevered with my Horticultural actions and drafted and distributed the table layout plans for the Spring and Autumn shows. I know that there will be more to do once the minutes are produced from last night's meeting, but at least I have done something.

I must admit that I ran out of steam as the afternoon progressed and, for the first time in a while, I settled in from of the television ... I also lit a fire as it was bloody chilly this evening.

Do deer eat pumpkin plants?

The weather has turned and today was overcast, still mild, but nothing like the lovely sunny days we have had recently.

The plan for today was to start our planting out.  We are later than usual getting our plants in to the ground for a variety of reasons. We hope that they will catch up now that the weather finally seems to be improving.

The first task for today was to dig over the old chicken run in the orchard.  The coop and run were dismantled and disposed of last year and we have decided that the old run might be the perfect rich soil for our pumpkin crop.  

Now I am on record as not being a fan of pumpkins. I've tried the soup and the pie and neither are particularly noteworthy.  They aren't dreadful, but if I am going to eat a pie or a bowl of soup it ain't going to be pumpkin based. There are far nicer things out there to eat.

However, I do like an over large vegetable, particularly since we discovered that our garden is perfect for growing brassicas and one of our giant savoy cabbages won first prize at the local Horticultural Club Annual Show in 2022.  A photograph of the specimen even made the front cover of the Paris Magazine.

Apologies for the digression. I like an over large vegetable and, when buying seeds for this year's vegetable crops, I purchased a pack of Atlantic Giant pumpkin seeds in a fit of deranged lunacy.  The fruit of the Atlantic Giant is capable of approaching or exceeding one tonne in weight in the hands of an expert.  Now I am far from an expert, but I would like to exhibit a reasonably large fruit in the pumpkin class at this year's show.

By lunchtime we had dug over the old run, removed the weeds and applied a liberal covering of compost.  Meat, bone and blood meal was sprinkled in to the holes and the young plants were introduced to their new home.

I just hope the bloody deer don't eat them!

The afternoon was spent clearing space in the flower beds for some of the Irises that we purchased from Pershore College Nursery last Friday.  It seems so very simple as I type this but, in reality, it involved considerable effort to remove large quantities of day lilies (Hemerocallis), weeding and improving the soil before the new plants could be introduced to the beds and watered in.

By five o'clock we had had enough of the garden and got ourselves cleaned up. Our days were not over yet! 30% headed out for an aquafit session with two of her friends and I had a Horticultural Society meeting to chair at the other end of the village.

It was close to nine o'clock before we slumped in front of the television with our supper.

Well, that looks a little better!

 Monday was another day in the garden and I finally managed to finish clearing the overgrowth from the lawn and borders on to the drive.  It has made quite difference and the front of the house now likes like it is under management rather than badly neglected.  

30% and I cut back and dug out a huge Honeysuckle from the front border, which is now residing in a wheelbarrow pending transplantation.  Our original plan was to insert it in to one of the hedges, but one test hole proved that it would be a horrendous task to dig it in. We therefore decided to plant it alongside Rose Cottage where it can do its worst to screen the tin shed.

As the afternoon drifted in to early evening, I mixed up a couple of batches of Roundup and sprayed the grass growing amongst the cobble effect, blocks of the drive.  I then continued spraying weeds up the path to the front door.

Hopefully the Postman will appreciate the tidier route to the post box and will no longer get soaked now the Honeysuckle has been removed..

Once the weedkiller takes effect, the front of the house should look a little less like Granny Weatherwax's cottage.

The Ingrates

It was another early start and I was up and drinking coffee by half past five. I should point out that I would have rather been snoring for another two hours.  The plan for this morning was to head over to the Hereford & Worcester shooting ground for a round of clay shooting.

Bubbles and Ben picked me up just after nine o'clock and we met up with the Lawn Mower Man at the ground.  I had an indifferent shoot and ended the morning with a score of 61/100.  I did have one outstanding stand where I managed an 8/10 while the others, including Bubbles struggled to hit one of the targets at all!*

The plan for the rest of the day was to continue clearing the overgrowth of lawn from the edge of the drive. I made some headway, but my blood sugar kept dipping and this, combined with tiredness, meant that I gave in at about five in the afternoon.

Having dealt with Sunday's events I will now move on to the title of today's Journal entry.  One might recall that earlier in the week, 30% and I purchased four goldfish to populate one of our rainwater tanks. There are  two interconnected tanks and we use them for watering the garden.  The fish are there for pleasure and to predate the mosquito larvae in the Summer months.  The first tank is about forty gallons capacity and is home to half a dozen goldfish**, many pond snails, a jungle of Elodia and a Water Lily that, so far, has failed to flower. The second tank is probably about sixty gallons in size and is also home to a jungle of Elodia and many, many and snails

Now the weather has warmed it is a twice daily ritual to scatter a few pellets of fish food on the surface and take a childish delight in seeing the fish rise and eat.  However the four new fish have declined to make an appearance since they were released on to their new home in tank number 2. The little arseholes lurk away in the depths, totally hidden in the jungle of Elodia. I swear the little gits are doing it on purpose ... "right he's fucked off now, let's go and bask at the surface for a couple of hours".

30% thinks that they are stuffing their faces on snail eggs. Me, I'm not so sure! At feeding time I creep up to the tank in a manner that would make a mouse sound like a bloody clog dancer and still the fucking ingrates fail to show their little goldfish faces.

I'm also pretty sure that snail eggs do not comprise a balanced diet.

---

* as Bubbles says "I do like a dropper" ... a clay at the end of its trajectory, that is falling to the ground.

** I am fairly sure that I saw a pair of the fish in tank #1 mating a couple of weeks ago, so fingers crossed that we may have young later in the year ... provided they don't get eaten.

Progress & Fun

 The days are getting longer and I tend to wake earlier as the mornings become lighter.* This morning I was up and about by half past five. I took a leisurely start to the day enjoying the birdsong and the solitude of the garden.

30% headed off to Alcester Food Festival this morning whilst I stayed at home and took the dogs out for an early walk.  On my return I finished mowing the small lawn that borders the garage and the verge outside the house.

I must have been feeling keen as I then grabbed a spade and started to clear the grass that had overgrown the brick edging to the lawn and was now encroaching on the drive with vigour. About an hour later I had completed one section of the lawn edging and was amazed at the difference. Previously it had looked scruffy and unkempt, but now it looked like it was being managed, although there was still some work to do.** The state of the drive has been a constant irritation to me for the past year as my back prevented me from attending to it. I'm surprised at how positive I feel having finally made a start on this crappy, ball ache of a job. 

As the afternoon drew to a close I showered, shaved and changed. Bubbles and Bobbyn had arranged for us all to go and see Giffords Circus at Sudeley Castle. We had a lovely evening. The weather was perfect and this little rural circus was fantastic. The title of this year's show is Avalon and is loosely themed on King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.  We saw jugglers, acrobats, magicians and clowns. There was an act with four trained terriers that was very funny and the in-tent band was very professional.

The event was very intimate with the acts taking place no more than 20' feet from our seats and this close proximity made every aspect of the performance very real. I absolutely loved the show and I have a feeling that this may well become an annual outing for 30% and me.

---

* It is years since I have used an alarm on a regular basis. Having been a telecommuter for the best part of twenty years it was little matter how scruffy or unshaven I was as I started my day. Ten minutes could also be found to make a coffee and a slice of toast if I had really slept late.

** 30% was absolutely gobsmacked by the visual impact of this grass clearance. I may well have made a rod for my own back as there is another tweet or thirty yards of edging to do ... and then I need to clear the weeds from the middle of the drive.

I keep thinking it is Saturday

 For the second time in as many weeks I have become temporally detached. I kept thinking that today is Saturday.  I am sure I will get used to this in time but, at present, the novelty of having all this time available makes most days* seem like the start of a weekend.

Anyway, on to today's Journal entry. 30% had noticed that there was a plant sale on at Pershore Horticultural college, so we headed over and took a look. In fact we took more than a look and loaded a few varieties of Irises in to the back of the car before heading home.

We detoured via Goll's Nursery to pick up some Roundup concentrate and an impulse buy of four gold fish for one of our large rainwater tanks.

We lunched and then I set to with the Roundup. The tomato greenhouse, vegetable garden and pumpkin patch** were all sprayed to knock back the vigorous weed growth.  I'm not a great one for garden chemicals and will normally go for manure or meat and bone powder to fertilise the garden along with crop rotation and fallow periods. However, I am not some green vigilante and there are times when a spray is necessary to get on top of a situation.***

A lack of garden maintenance last year, due to my bad back, has meant that areas of the garden have got out of hand.  Large scale digging and hand weeding is likely to inflame the condition, so weedkillers will be used to get me back to the point where gentle hoeing will suffice.

30% made a start on raking up the grass and weeds from my brush cutting in the orchard while I attended to the spraying.  She was delighted to come across a Greater Spotted woodpecker nest as well as deer droppings and I can see that we will need to get the trail camera set up again.

I then dragged out the lawn mower and managed to complete the front, the back and the areas around the greenhouses, before collapsing on the patio with a glass of wine.

I appreciate that, to many, this was not the most exciting of days, but we had a lovely day and the garden is finally starting to look loved again.

---

* "most" not "all", Having an appointment or arrangement of any sort has a negating effect on this phenomenon. From now on they may well be referred to as retirement disruptors, particularly the appointments I don't want to attend.

** The site of the old hen house in the orchard. We are hoping that the soil in the old run will be very fertile and ideal for the Atlantic Gian pumpkin plants that have been nurtured from seed.

*** I also favour Phostrogen for our tomatoes and other vegetable crops

Getting my steps in

 Today 30% had arranged for a sub-sect of the Coven to come over for a stitch 'n bitch  session. Allegedly this is basically a coffee morning where needlework and knitting happens, although the reality is that it is an excuse for a social gathering.

True to form 30% hauled herself out of bed when she felt like it, rather than giving herself plenty of time and then informed me that she had a lot to do, including a trip to Waitrose for milk and cakes.

I watched her rush around for a while and then asked if there was anything she needed me to do. Now 30% is an intelligent woman and she was well aware that I had absolutely zero investment in the stitch 'n bitch session so my offer was kindly accepted and limited to carrying a basket of washing upstairs.

Now guilt isn't really a healthy emotion, so, to avoid it at all costs, I decided that I should take the dogs out for a walk. My justification for this was that they would be less excitable when the coven arrived and the forecast indicated heavy rain for most of the afternoon. I would be out of the way of house tidying activities, look like I was helping and avoid getting a soaking later in the day.

As we exit the house I might have mentioned to Hobson that it looked like I was helping when, in fact, I was participating in a massive skive.

Upon my return I found that coven had arrived and were sat out at the table on the patio taking advantage of the sunny weather.  I popped down and said my "hellos"* as I know several of them before returning and jumping through further pension related, administrative hoops.

I headed back up to the orchard once the coven had left** and after an hour I have just about finished. I can now walk around the permitter without getting stung or covered goose grass and I think the next step will be a bonfire and a couple of chainsaw sessions to clear the final tricky corner for once and for all.

The forecast rain never arrived, so Bobbyn and I had our usual Thursday walk out on the Three Miler and discussed options for weekend entertainments.

As I slumped on the sofa I realised that I had been on my feet all day, including two dog walks. It was no wonder they felt a little sore.

---

* and pinched a slice of coffee and walnut cake

** It would have been somewhat churlish to brush cut while the ladies were enjoying the peace and quiet of the garden

Another day, another fraction

 Not a huge amount to report for today. 

The morning was spent engrossed in Bob Mortimer's autobiography And Away while waiting for a chap to come and have a look at a possible problem area in the garden.

Once he had left, I fuelled up the brush cutter and continued my Herculean effort in the orchard. By the end of the day, I estimate that I have knocked back about four fifths of the undergrowth.

But, and it is a big BUT, I have consciously been avoiding the top, right hand corner of the plot. It is a fairly steep bank and is the one area of the orchard where we have yet to take out the Elder shoots, cut down the fruit trees* and burn the debris from the hedge laying in 2021.

It is a bloody mess and will be difficult to clear. 30% and I really need to bring out the chain saw, get a bonfire going and finish this job in the next few weeks.

---

*These are long beyond pruning back in to productivity. They are also old and uninspiring varieties and we are, as yet, undecided whether to replant with fruit or replace them with native British trees. I am very tempted by the latter option as we already have a fine young Ash growing there.

What's the worst than could happen?

 Much of this morning was spent on administrative stuff. Pension forms were completed. tax forms were checked and filed, an agenda for an upcoming Horticultural Club meeting was drafted.* This admin extravaganza culminated in a forty minute wait to talk to HM Revenue & Customs and get them to make a tax code adjustment to my little Civil Service pension.

The afternoon saw me undertake either a work of genius, or possibly the most stupidest thing I have ever done.  The blade on the porn mower is well past its best and a spare blade has lurked in the shed for years. The reason that it hasn't been fitted is because it isn't quite right ... it is the right length and has the right size holes, it is just that it is missing a single hole that aligns with a pin on the mower drive shaft.

I decided that it could be made to fit by simply drilling a hole in the blade in the right place. Well, nearly the right place ... a couple of minutes with a Dremel and a grinding stone had it locking on to the drive shaft nicely.

I tightened it all up and pulled on the starting cord a couple of times. The porn mower roared in to life and the new blade cuts beautifully. However, I do feel a little nervous about having a 20" piece of sharpened metal spinning at several hundred revolutions per minute in close proximity to my ankles. After all, I have potentially impacted its structural integrity. 

In response to today's Journal entry title ... I'm not sure I really want to think about that!

I spent a further hour up in the orchard and can report that two thirds of it are now cut back. I can see a bonfire happening in the next week or so, or a monumental session with a rake and pitch fork to clear away the grass and nettle cuttings.

My final exertion was a walk on the Three Miler with Bobbyn and the dogs. We had an interesting chat where she seemed interested in a piece of self-analysis, whilst I suggested that this was completely unnecessary and that she simply need to ensure that calendars were shared or synchronised. 

---

* Don't Ask! I felt guilty at last year's AGM and offered to support a friend who had literally been thrown under the bus by 30%.  In the absence of any volunteers for the vacant Chairman role, she volunteered Hoppy.  Now Hoppy is a very skilled gardener, but he was in the process of assuming a new role for a large seed producer out in East Anglia. I knew he was going to be very busy, so I stupidly volunteered to act as co-chair ... I seem to have been doing a lot of the chairman stuff over the past few months.

Rinse and repeat

 Monday was very similar to Sunday, except there was no visit from Mr & Mrs Tweedy.

The dogs were walked early in the day and the afternoon was spent attempting to tame the jungle that is optimistically referred to as  the orchard.  By the time the rain set in I had cleared the nettles and goose grass (Galium aparine) from about half of the orchard. The site of the old hen house* is now visible and the log shed** should be accessible after the next phase of the battle plan.

The only excitement was when the brush cutter flipped up a chunk of debris. It hit me squarely in the mouth and I could feel a trickle of blood, that and the rain put paid to any further clearance and I retired for the day.

30% enquired about the minor injury and I, somewhat, embellished the facts by advising that I had disturbed a bear in the undergrowth and had wrested it in to submission.

---

* This was a dilapidated 8' by 10' shed with an attached run that served as home to our chickens until they were decimated by a fox attack last year. 30% and I dismantled this rat infested shack last year and ceremoniously burnt the timbers on a bonfire.

** A corrugated iron, open fronted shed that has a jaunty lean due to rabbit induced undermining.  The shed bears the name Rose Cottage for some unknown reason. It was originally filled with a huge pile of kitchen worktops and other particle board offcuts.  These were cleared and disposed off and it is now stacked with several cubic metres of logs from the trees felled in our garden clearance activities.

A start in the orchard

 It was another beautiful day and my first objective was to walk dogs before it got too warm for them. 

We headed out on to the Three Miler and reached The Grange at the edge of the village, before turning and heading back home.  The reason for an out 'n back walk rather than a circular route is that one of the lanes is still incredibly wet and muddy following a very wet Winter and Spring.  When I say "muddy" I mean "MUDDY", the lane is about four hundred yards long and has a stream on one side and a high bank to the other. Over the past months repeated land slips from the bank have dumped large quantities of earth on the road and, at one point on the stream side, the land at the edge of the road has subsided and is now about 3' lower.

Basically it is filthy down there and I am just too lazy to wash off three dogs if I can manage to keep them clean walking a similar distance on cleaner lanes.

I returned home after the walk to be greeted by 30% and Mr & Mrs Tweedy*. We sat out on the patio, enjoying the sunshine and exchanged news before they headed off with some of the plants that had been removed from the beds yesterday.

My plan for the afternoon was to knock back the nettles and long grass in the orchard, so I got the brush cutter from the garage and assembled it in the workshop. This was one of those points where I took delight in the luxury of time now available to me ... Normally I would have connected the cutter head to the motor unit, topped up the petrol tank and just got on with the job because tomorrow would be consumed by work.

However, that scenario no longer applies. I had the time to remove the blade, take a file and sharpen the cutter blade before I even considered starting the job. Once I was happy with a nice sharp cutter I headed out to the orchard and made a start. It was hot, physical work but it was one of those jobs that is very satisfying as one can easily see the swathes of orchard now free of 2' high nettles and grass.

I estimate that I have cleared a quarter, maybe one third, of the orchard, but I'm free tomorrow too ... weather permitting.

---

* Her Parents

Divide & Conquer ... Us verses the Garden

 It was another glorious day and we hit the garden with a vengeance.

In yesterday's Journal entry I made mention of the large gardens, but didn't go in to detail of how much work will be needed to get them back to a semblance of order.  

The orchard, for example, is the best part of a quarter of an acre but was dominated by two overgrown conifers and apple and plum trees that were long past their best. They hadn't been pruned in years and fruit laden branches had been torn off in high Autumn winds. Over the past three years we have felled the conifers and the trees that were beyond rejuvenation and converted them to firewood. The orchard hedge* was laid, and mountains of particle board, corrugated roofing** and other domestic debris were collected up and disposed of. 

In the garden, trees have been pruned, the vegetable patch has been fenced and dug over and the borders are being attended to ... slowly.

This all sounds like it is nearly sorted, but this is far from the truth. There are years of work to tame and restrain the rampant growth and a bad back last year meant that very little was achieved other than lawn mowing. We will be well in to our retirement before we sit back and say "well that's the garden finished".

30% spent this morning reducing the size of huge clumps of Stinking Iris and Orange Day Lillies that have run rampant over the years. I grabbed a few tools and dismantled an old teak picnic table*** that we inherited when we bought the house. The legs are well beyond repair and, since 30% has invested in a replacement that now sits on the patio that we had laid last Autumn, it is time for it to go. The planks forming the table top and seats are still sound, so these have been stacked in the car port for a future project.

A leisurely lunch was taken  and we returned to the garden. The afternoon was spent dividing an Achillea Cloth of Gold and a Red Hot Poker followed by much weeding and further thinning to create space for the divided plants.

It was well past five o'clock by the time we finished and settled ourselves out on the patio with a beer and a glass of wine.

---

* An optimistic descriptor, if ever there was one! The "hedge" was long neglected and had been supplemented by a length of stock fencing. It was better described as a row of 20' high hawthorn trees spaced at about five to eight feet distance. A local hedge layer came and laid them in the first Spring and we now have a fantastic length of hedging, bursting with life and providing a nesting habitat for the local birds.

** Potentially asbestos based

*** I shouldn't complain, as it has served us well for the past three years, but shifting the damned thing every time I mow the lawn is a complete pain in the backside!

New Pastures

 Today was another beautiful day after a fairly miserable, soggy early Spring.  

The fine weather has encouraged the grass to grow and much of today was spent mowing the lawns and strimming the Cow Parsley on the verges outside the house.

At this point it might become apparent that we are no longer living at The Pile so, with little else to report, I'll do my best to give a reasonably concise account of our move to a new home.

Prior to the Covid pandemic 30% and I put The Pile on the market, as we decided that we would like a little more garden and a quieter location away from the High Street in the village.  We had a few bites and several time wasters during the pandemic, but all of these came to naught. We therefore took the place off the market and spent our time organising a wedding instead.

In 2020 we entered a state of marital harmony and the days at the Pile slipped by. After all, we had spent the best part of twelve years extending, extensively restoring and redecorating the place and everyone we knew said it was lovely and looked somewhat baffled when moving was mentioned.

In the Autumn of that year I was sat at my desk when the 'phone rang. I picked it up and was very surprised to take a call from Gilles.*  Gilles is the son of a couple who own a rather quaint cottage out on the Three Miler. Sadly, his father died a few years ago, but his Mum was still there.

A rather rambling conversation ensued, but the main point was that the property was becoming a little too much for his aged mother and she was planning to move out to Herefordshire to be closer to Gilles.  Gilles had originally been in line to inherit the cottage, but was settled in Herefordshire and therefore wanted to offer it to us. He had seen how we had restored and refurbished the Pile and felt that 30% and I were the ideal people to continue his father's legacy.

Although we were touched by this compliment, we** were unsure whether we wanted another project, but arranged to take a look around the property.

A few days later we turned up and discovered that the brick cottage was actually half timbered*** and sat in 3/4 of an acre of gardens and orchard with a well, a vegetable patch and the nearest neighbour was a quarter of a mile away.

The property needed a lot of updating, but we fell in love and after much faffing around a price was agreed, a buyer was found for the Pile and by February 2021 we had moved in.

This narrative makes it all sound wonderful so, for balance, I must briefly mention the challenges of downsizing and the perils of booking a removal firm who claim to do the packing ... but don't really, a seller who won't name their price, the risk of the property being placed on the open market and septic tanks in general. 

We live and learn! 

---

* 30% and I know Gilles and his family from walking the dogs and have had many conversations leaning on the gate to their cottage, but we were never close friends. We have dog walked with Gilles, his wife and Archie and, on one occasion, they came to the Pile for dinner, but were acquaintances rather than friends.

** I

*** The cottage had been built around 1700 and the timbers of the outer walls had suffered over the intervening years and had been replaced with local bricks, probably in the 1800s. However the interior walls retained the timbers with lath and plaster infill.

Well that took longer than it should have

Process development, process refinement or just plain old process have been significant elements for most of my working life.

As I enter retirement I am less than delighted to find that there are still some absolutely horrendous processes out there, lurking like some malevolent, disfigured homunculi. Let me explain ...

In a recent chat with our financial advisor, it was agreed that there was little point transferring the small amount of pension funds that were accrued in the nine months of employment. The best thing to do was to simply withdraw the funds and use them for living expenses.  This morning I wandered over to the computer and applied myself to this task.  

At this point I will mention that my former employe had complicated matters by switching pension providers mid way through my employment, so it was necessary to send out two virtually identical requests to Scottish Widows and Standard Life. 

The Scottish Widows request seemed relatively straightforward.* I accessed my on-line account, found the service I needed and followed their instructions to send an email to the address provided ...simple, a little basic perhaps, but job done!

Then on to Standard Life. Again I accessed my on-line account, found the service I needed and clicked on a "button" to initiate the process to withdraw my funds. I then exited my account, stupidly thinking that was nice and simple too.

Twenty minutes later I received an email from Standard Life advising that a reply to my request had been posted against my account. I logged on again and opened up their message. It acknowledged my request to cash in my funds and informed me that I needed to call a telephone number to progress my request. At this point I swore under my breath and asked the rhetorical question "why the fuck didn't they just provide the 'phone number when I clicked on the cash in your funds button?"

I called the number, waited in a queue for 10 minutes before a member of their staff went through various identify checks and then asked what I needed. I advised her that I wanted to cash in my small fund and she advised that I had come through to the wrong number and needed to be transferred elsewhere.

She kindly transferred me and another 10 minute wait ensued, followed by further identity checks and a reiteration of my requirement. I was then advised that I had come through to the wrong number and needed to call the number that I had dialled in the first instance. In my mind I was saying "For fucks sake!" but I maintained an aura of restrained frustration and advised that the number given was my starting point to this charade.

A further transfer and 10 minute wait ensued, during which I was given the  option to have a call back in the next 48 hours. I pointed out that a further ten minute wait was better than 2 days and hung on in the queue. Eventually my call was answered, identify checks were completed and my reason for calling was ascertained.

After a couple of basic questions about why I wanted to withdraw the cash, I was advised about financial fraud and asked whether an annuity might be an option.  I pointed out that the matter had been discussed with my IFA and withdrawing the funds was my best option.

At this point I was advised that a set of forms would be put in the post. I would need to complete and return these to move my request forward.

At this point I realised that the forms, accompanied by warnings of financial fraud and alternative options could have been posted across to me following the first fucking click of the "cash in my fund" button on the bloody web site! Instead I endured thirty plus minutes on the 'phone, involving three different Customer Service Representatives to achieve the same goal.

There is still work out there for a good Operational Architect.

---

* so far!

Catching up

Clearly I have not made the greatest of starts to maintaining The Journal, but, hopefully, the following summary will get me back on track ... it is fair to say that, having cut the chains that tied me to a desk, I am somewhat reluctant to sit at one for hours on end.

Thursday, 2nd May, 2024

The main achievement was to finish the project for The ELF.  

I was recruited to produce a set of four coasters for their 5th Anniversary, which is traditionally marked with a gift made from wood. The ELF supplied me with a number of slices of oak that had formed part of the table decorations at their Wedding Reception on 4th May, 2019. These had dried and split over the intervening years and were perfect for a set of hexagonal coasters with a resin infill. 

The coasters were delivered in the early evening and The ELF was delighted with the result. I still have concerns over the suitability of the resin and promised that I was more than willing to re-work them, if needed.

We then continued on from that delivery to Redditch College to attend the Catering Students' Mexican Dinner.  The college catering course holds regular set menu dining evenings to give the students experience of cooking and serving meals to the general public.  The food is always attractively priced and of very good quality, and tonight was no exception. We were joined by a small group of friends and had a fantastic evening and three delicious courses of Mexican fare.

Friday, 3rd May, 2024

The morning was spent hurling clothing and groceries into bags before throwing ourselves and Hobson* in to the car and heading over to Worcester to pick up B&H. 

B&H and a colossal quantity of booze were collected and we headed over to Brewood*** in South Staffordshire. We arrived shortly before 2 o'clock and unloaded our belongings on to Sir Ulfius and acquainted ourselves with the layout of this 55' narrow boat.  A while later we were given a demonstration by Cliff and we headed off down the Shropshire Union Canal towards Autherley Junction.

Within a couple of hours we turned right on to the Staffs and Worcester canal and headed through the Tettenhall, Compton and Wightwick districts of Wolverhampton.  The weather was indifferent today and the grey cloud eventually produced drizzle leading to rain as the evening closed in.

Friday evening was spent moored just after Mops Farm Bridge and supper was a Chilli con carne pre-prepared by 30% and a substantial quantity of red wine .... bed time was not late!

Saturday, 4th May, 2024

Our original intention was to cruise as far as Kinver before turning and heading back to Brewood. 

As we chugged along, we realised that this was feasible, but could be a bit of a slog. We therefore agreed to turn the boat around at the winding hole**** just after Hinksford Lock and cruise back up the Staffs & Worcester to moor just below The Bratch. 

The Bratch is flight of three locks in very close proximity and very likely to be a bottle neck. We had therefore decided that we would make an early start on Sunday and get through them well before anyone else had stirred.

The weather was lovely and sunny and the canals and locks were an absolute delight showing that Britain's Industrial Heritage is well worth experiencing as a leisure activity. The casual reader might question Wolverhampton as a choice of holiday venue, but I have to report that the canal, towpath and local area was lovely and we soaked in the peaceful atmosphere as we chugged along at four miles per hour. 

Refreshment breaks included The Swan at Compton for a swift couple at lunchtime and The Waggon & Horses at Wombourne for our evening meal. 

Sunday, 5th May, 2024

I woke just after 6 o'clock and headed up the towpath with Hobson. He "did his business" and I checked out The Bratch in the early morning light. The locks were set in our favour and within the hour we were gently slipping in to the lower lock. 

"B" was lock monkey and he soon had the grasp of the process of which lock paddles to open and when. We made trouble free progress and exited the top lock within about thirty minutes.

The rest of the day was much the same as yesterday; bright sunny weather, cold beers and wine and taking in the delights of the canal vistas. We made our way back up to Autherley Junction and were back on to the Shropshire Union by mid afternoon. We continued until we were about half a mile from Brewood Wharf and moored for the evening overlooking the fields leading to St Mary's church, Brewood.

30% had taken the precaution to ring ahead and book us a table for dinner at The Oakley Arms. This hostelry was about a mile and a half from our mooring and the brisk walk to make our reservation had certainly given us an appetite. The food was fantastic and the walk back seemed far shorter than the earlier route march.

Monday, 6th May, 2024

We needed to be back at Brewood Shaft by nine o'clock and this deadline was easily met.  Cliff was on hand to greet us and it took less than an hour to unload the boat and re-pack the car.

An hour or so had us back in Worcester and farewell hugs were exchanged. Back at home we abandoned the car, ensured that Hobson had had a wee and then we both had a massive kip with neither of us stirring until the early afternoon.  We had both had a fabulous break, but had forgotten just how tiring a boating holiday can be.

The rest of the day was spent on the mundanities of unpacking and tidying away.

Tuesday, 7th May 2024

I forgot to mention that I woke yesterday with a painful left eye and it came as little surprise to find that today I am quite sensitive to bright light. I occasionally suffer from corneal abrasions and I seem to have incurred another.

This means that sunglasses are needed whenever outside and indoor activities are preferred.

The first activity of the day was to drop Hobson off at the Vets for his castration ... the poor little devil seemed delighted to be there. I am guessing he won't be a cheerful when we collect him later in the day.

The rest of the day included a chat with our Financial Advisors, who gave 30% and me a list of activities we need to complete and we also had a visit from "Oil Tank Will" to complete a visual check of our oil fired central heating system.

Hobson was collected in the afternoon and is, unsurprisingly, a little subdued, but is not wearing a cone of shame.

Later in the day I had a walk around the Three Miler with Bobbyn, her three terriers, Whiffler and Dog no. 4***** and that just about covers Tuesday.

Wednesday, 8th May 2024

I was home alone today as 30% was out on a felting course at a local craft centre.

My eye is improving but still not up to the lovely sunny weather we are having, so my objective today was to complete a set of forms that are required for an upcoming consultation with a Spinal surgeon.

These were completed and submitted and, if I am totally honest, some sleeping took place on the sofa,

---

* Hobson is our 16 month old Apricot Standard Poodle. We, sadly, lost Marauder** back in late September 2022 a month before her 13th birthday. She will never be forgotten, nor replaced, but Hobson arrived in March 2023 as we have learnt that three poodles are "just enough". Hobson is an absolute delight, but can be a little clingy, so we decided that he should accompany us on our mini break.

** "I've got shit to bark at in the After Life Bad Man!"

*** Pronounced brewed/brood

**** A point in the canal where it is wide enough to turn the boat around. 

***** Dog no. 4 was introduced way back in March 2020, but I still need to give her an alias ... let me think on that

A couple of wins

 TP disappeared shortly after nine o'clock this morning to head over to get further acquainted with the Kawasaki Versys, apply L Plates and head over to the Driving Test Centre in Worcester.

Today's primary objective was to get the lawns mowed in advance of our Narrow Boating mini break over the Bank Holiday weekend.  Overnight showers meant an early start was not going to be possible, so I spent the morning on various minor distractions, including the removal of about 10 days of stubble from my chin.

TP called at about half past eleven to let me know that he had passed his test and sincere congratulations were offered. Some parents might be horrified about their children riding motorcycles, but I find myself in a difficult position.  I have ridden motorcycles, in one form or another, for close to 45 years. It would certainly be hypocritical of me to attempt to dissuade TP from riding, but I want to put on record that I am, of course, concerned for his health and safety. 

I have ridden with him on many occasions including the purchase of hist first 125cc Yamaha to the day I let him have a quick run out on the Ducati 996.* He is an incredibly safe rider with great observational skills.  I hope he has as much riding pleasure in the coming years as I have had.

Lunch happened and then the porn mower  was dragged from the shed. I should add, at this point, that the porn mower really needs renaming since it is now 13 and the passing years are starting to show.  I have a new ride-on Stihl mower, but the ground is still way too wet for that beauty, so the porn mower** still gets used on a regular basis.

The lawns here are close to half an acre and it took most of the afternoon, with a couple of breaks, to get them cut. I checked my step counter after they were done and realised that I had walked close to 6,000 steps and covered at least two and a half miles. I was quite surprised by those statistics, but I do have a healthy cynicism of the output accuracy of the Google Fit app.

As the afternoon became the evening, I headed out on the R nineT and dropped a set of keys off with Bubbles. Bubbles and his good lady; Bobbyn are house sitting for us this weekend and, not unusually, our holiday preparations are veering towards disorganised and last-minute.

The final event of the day was a trip in to Redditch to see Andy Parsons Bafflingly Optimistic tour at the Palace Theatre. It was a reasonable gig with the occasional incisive comment that shows what a skilled performer he really is. Despite being knackered after a lot of mowing, both 30% and I thoroughly enjoyed this mid week outing.

---

* Sold back in 2021. Not forgotten, but not missed either ... it's probably my age!

** I need the exercise.

Green is good?

 The past couple of days seem to have been mostly consumed by my BMW R nineT. 

It's a convoluted tale, but I will try to be as concise as possible. TP has an A2 motorcycle license* which he has held for many years. He now wants to upgrade to an unlimited A class bike license. This involves repeating the Mod 1 (off road) and Mod 2 (on road) tests on a higher powered machine.

He took a training course earlier in the year, passed the Mod 1 but, unfortunately, did not pass the Mod 2 test. He therefore needed to repeat the Mod 2 test but did not have access to a training school fleet of bikes for the test.

He had already arranged to borrow his mate's Kawasaki Versys 650, which is a little on the tall side, so I asked if he wanted to try my BMW for size. He agreed that this was a good idea, so Monday saw me wander out to the garage and attempt to start the bike. 

None of my bikes had been ridden for at least 18 months as I spent 8 months of 2023 virtually housebound with a spinal condition. The condition is currently in remission, so one of the post-retirement priorities was to get some miles ridden on two wheels.**

Apologies! I digressed. After 18+ months the BMW had a flat battery, despite connection to a trickle charger. There followed an hour of messing around and reading instructions before I simply removed the seat and got an alternative charger connected up.  I also rang my favourite local Motorcycle Dealer/Workshop and got an MOT provisionally booked for the following day, subject to me getting the damned Teutonic beast to start.

The rest of the day was punctuated with visits to the garage to check on the battery charging progress, as indicated by the plentiful, but unintuitive, indicator lights.

Tuesday dawned and I wandered out to the garage to check on progress. I saw multiple green lights on the charger and hoped that this was positive news. A little before nine o'clock I grabbed my helmet, jacket and gloves and wandered out to urge her in to life.

It now gets a bit anticlimactic from here on. The bike started easily and the ride over to the workshop was a delight. Within 40 minutes the test was passed and I returned home to "throw a bucket of water at her" as she was pretty grimy after more than a year in a dusty garage.

TP appeared later in the day, the bike was taxed and we took a ride out to see what he thought. After much consideration he decided that, despite the lower seat height, he would use his friend's Versys.  He said he loved riding it, but found it way too powerful for riding during the test.***

We later realised that the BMW has almost twice the power of the Kawasaki and getting on for three times the grunt of TP's Honda CBR 500. It's no wonder he found it a bit of a handful.

---

* Machines of 47 bhp, or less

** I had already got my Moto Guzzi Stornello back on the road at the beginning of April for a three day, retirement celebratory bike tour of Wales with TP and his chums. Unfortunately the Guzzi falls in to the A2 power category and was of no use for TP's test

*** I'm glad I made him endure the hell-hole that is Evesham at the point that Prince Henry's High School releases its students in to the community. The normal chaotic traffic was now at a standstill and low speed crawling was needed to manoeuvre through town. This carefully selected route was certainly using the bike under test conditions.

Lazy Day

 I woke to the sound of rain and discovered that it was bloody cold. The low temperature was reinforced when I accompanied one of the dogs* along the lane for a few yards so he could b) empty his bladder and a) take note of which of the local foxes had visited over night. It was effing freezing!

The miserable weather did not encourage me to get busy and I had a really lazy day. I caught up with TP's news from Thailand and generally mooched about the house doing very little. I extended his knowledge of classic Sci Fi by making him watch Galaxy Quest. He had never seen this little gem and agreed that it had lasted well and was well worth watching.

I then proceeded to have a snooze on the sofa, before waking and deciding that I had definitely had enough of the chilly weather. Kindling was gathered, matches were located ... eventually and a fire was set in the log burner in time for 30%'s return from a shopping trip.

I was appointed head cook this evening and was responsible for rustling up a smoked salmon and pasta dish for dinner. It was judged a success and the ingredients and recipe are outlined below for anyone that might be interested.

Smoked Salmon with Pasta (serves 3)

• 1 large onion, finely chopped
• a good glug of olive oil
• 3 cloves of garlic, crushed
• button mushrooms, sliced
• a slug of white wine (half a glass)
• 1 - 2 tsp of dried thyme
• 100 g smoked salmon, sliced in to thin ribbons
• 200 ml double cream
• 6 - 8 ounces of pasta
• salt and black pepper, to taste

1. Put a frying/saute pan on a medium heat and add a healthy glug of olive oil
2. Add the chopped onions and stir regularly to avoid browning them
3. After 5 minutes, or so, add the thyme, mushrooms and garlic and continue to cook on a medium heat for a further 5 minutes.
4. Add a healthy splash of white wine or cider to deglaze the pan and allow to simmer until most of the wine has evaporated off. This should take about 5 mins
5. Add the sliced smoked salmon, stir though and remove from the heat
6. Meanwhile cook the pasta and drain. Return the pasta to the pan.
7. Add the onion, mushroom and salmon mixture to the pasta and stir in well.
8. Throw in the cream and stir to warm through.
9. Taste, adjust seasoning and serve.

---

* Sans coat and hat

I've still got it.

 Today was the day that TP flew home after a month in Thailand. He has spent the first two weeks of his trip travelling solo before meeting up with three of his friends for the final fortnight of the holiday. We have had the odd message and video call with him over the past month and are really looking forward to catching up with him.

I needed to pick up the traveller from Evesham station at 4.30 p.m. this afternoon so, for once, actually had a scheduled appointment that I needed to keep ... more on this later.

The weather is unseasonably cold at the moment and each time I ventured outside I returned wishing that I had donned hat and coat. As a result I spent the first part of the morning pottering* before I steeled myself, put on the aforementioned hat and coat, and headed out with the dogs for a walk. This took longer than expected due to conversational interludes, including one with the Milky Bar Kid who asked me if I was still interested in joining their Game Shoot. I confirmed that I was, but I'm not counting my chickens** yet.

Back at home we lunched before preparing to head out.  Yesterday 30% had asked what time we needed to leave home to collect TP if we popped in to Alcester for a couple of items, then headed over to The Valley at Evesham before arriving at Evesham station at half past four.

She looked at me in incredulous disbelief when I said we needed to leave at half past two. "That's way too early!" she exclaimed. I had barely got two sentences in to my analysis of the journey elements and shopping duration estimates before a look of fatigue passed across her face. Instead I settled with the more concise "remember that I have spent a good chunk of my working life estimating how long activities will take".

30% accepted this with good grace and, unusually, she was ready to leave home at 2.30 sharp. As we headed in to Alcester I pointed out that my estimate included contingency, grabbing a couple of items from Waitrose and I had also factored in twenty minute for a coffee and cake at The Valley.

Well! The afternoon panned out exactly as I had estimated and we arrived at the station 5 minutes before TP's train pulled in ... If I say so, myself, I always a bloody good estimator.

It was lovely to catch up with TP, despite his jet lag, and we look forward to more of his travellers tales as soon as he has got some sleep.

---

* Looking busy, but achieving very little

** or rather pheasants