Car Cleaning, take #2

 This morning I looked out to see steady rain falling from a grey sky and was not encouraged to venture out in to the garden.

30% enquired as to my plans for the day and I knew that I had to come up with something pretty quickly or I was going to be guilt tripped persuaded to spend a soggy delightful morning engaged in horticultural activities.  I got the cerebral cogs whirring and came up with a genius idea ... I assembled a shopping list based on recent conversations and added in that we could also do with another couple of litres of deionised water for the incubator. 

This final item was the trump card. 30% loves her chickens and there was no way that the current batch of potential chickens would be risked in any way. If the incubator needs deionised water, it shall be done!

The morning was therefore spent wandering around a supermarket that was several degrees centigrade cooler than I would have liked.* It was, however, far drier than outside.

The afternoon saw me, once again, attempt to get the BMW clean before being put away in the car port. If I am honest I have been dragging my heels on this particular task as it is a real faff.  What with hose pipes, pressure washers, extension reels, buckets and car cleaning products there is half an hour of set-up before a drop of water makes contact with the car. And then there is the tidy up at the end ... ball ache!

Anyway, I managed to get myself sufficiently motivated and the car is now much cleaner and finally slotted in to the car port. Tomorrow should see it connected to a battery optimiser and sheeted up for the next few months.

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* What is it about these bloody places! They are fucking freezing inside! A few weeks ago I was dragged in to Sainsbury's in Redditch and had to huddle by the Rotisserie Chicken stand for warmth whilst 30% picked up a couple of items. I kid you not when I say that a member of staff sidled up, asked if I was cold and then admitted that she often lingered in the same warm spot for a couple of minutes to thaw out.

Domesticity

 Today was another quiet day. I had great plans which included lawn mowing and car washing, or even hoeing the veg patch, but, as the day drew to a close, they were still just that ... plans.

30% was out for much of today attending a family funeral.  I had offered support, but she was quite happy to go alone. It was one of those funerals where the relationship with the sadly deceased had declined over time, having been more than thirty years since she last saw this aunt.  It was, therefore, a relatively pain free experience and, when she eventually returned from the wake,* she seemed to have had a pleasant time catching up with her Father's side of the family.

As she left there was a casual reference to stripping of beds and domesticity became my focus for the day.  Beds were stripped, bed linen was laundered and line dried. The dishwasher was emptied and refilled and so the day ambled forward. 

If I am truly honest, the pace was leisurely and I didn't break a sweat until I decided that the dogs should be walked in the early afternoon.  The weather is still cool for the time of year, but the dogs were panting and I ended the walk wishing that I had left my hat** and sweatshirt at home.

The walk was followed by a snooze and I then undertook a job that, it seems, only I find deeply satisfying ... I cleaned two pairs of my boots.  

Many years ago someone said that you can judge a character by looking at a persons shoes and you can judge their spending power by looking at their watch. I must think that there is something in this observation.  I have often looked at sharply dressed individuals and then looked down to see dirty, scuffed shoes.  The entire ensemble has failed because the individual couldn't be arsed to spend twenty minutes polishing their shoes ... Why wouldn't you do that? And what does this tell you about the character of that individual?

Anyway that's enough for today ... domestic trivia, dog walking, depilation and character judgements.

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* There was mention of hot sausage rolls. They sounded lovely, but clearly way too large for one to be sneaked out in her handbag ... sad face emoji

** A hat is now required safety wear*** as I have sported a shaved head clipped scalp since the covid lockdown of 2020. I had a full head of hair when 30% and I got married, but when I saw the wedding pictures it was very clear that I was going quite thin at the back.  We entered lockdown shortly after the wedding and a haircut was not possible, so I grabbed the clippers and clipped it back to my scalp.  I have sported a haircut varying from skinhead to suedehead, depending on the interval between cuts ever since.

Well, today I went one step further. Having clipped my hair earlier in the day I was well aware that there is often a tuft of hair left at the back because it is actually quite difficult to see the back of one's head.  This is a source of amusement for 30%. I therefore decided to wet shave my head. I had never done this before and really wasn't sure how it would go, but it was really easy and I now sport a tuft free, smooth pate.

*** Be skin cancer aware, kids!

Day of Rest

 After Saturday's comings and goings Sunday was always going to be a day of rest.

30% and I started the day at a leisurely pace and were joined by Bubbles shortly after nine o'clock.  He has his motorcycle compulsory basic training arranged for next Wednesday and had come over to get a little more experience on my Moto Guzzi.  He is doing really well, considering this is only his second time on a bike, and was soon riding smoothly up and down the lane with much improved gear changes.

Bubbles hung around until shortly before lunch and the time was filled with chat and coffee.

TP finally turned up in the early afternoon after yesterday's Ibiza Classic gig at Ragley.  We caught up on each others' news and were joined by Charlie to discuss a potential motorcycle tour of the Pyrenees. When I say "potential" it is an actual tour for TP and Charlie, taking place at the beginning of September.  My participation was the potential factor.  Unfortunately I am not going to be joining the tour due to dog, and probably chicken, sitting duties, as 30% will be in London that week.

As the afternoon turned to evening I helped TP adjust the chain on his BMW and we soon learn that he really needs a new chain and sprockets, especially as he will be touring on it later in the Summer.

That just about sums up Sunday. A traditional Sunday dinner was eaten and an extended period of vegetation took place.

Out and About

 Friday was a day of breezy, sunny intervals. Saturday was most definitely not! 

The morning was vile. Rain fell from a grey sky and it was chilly. It is quite amazing that, for the past two or three days, it has been cool enough overnight that our central heating has fired up in the early morning to take away the chill. It hasn't been running full blast but the radiators have been warm to the touch.

Today was going to be fairly busy and I was driving down the lane by eight this morning. The rain worsened as I headed over to the Cotswold Shooting Ground and, by the time I got there, my mind was made up; there was no bloody way I was going to shoot in this crappy weather.*

I informed Bubbles and the rest of the squad of my decision, but they persuaded me to stay and score for them, rather than heading straight back home. I actually had a fun morning chatting and laughing and didn't miss not shooting. I don't shoot well in a heavy coat and the bonus was that I hadn't spent seventy quid on cartridges and the clays.

Back at home I discovered that the cleaning fairies had been busy while I was out, as had the cookery elves, and I returned to a much tidier home than the one I had left. 

As we lunched we noted that the weather seemed to have improved and we decided that we would make use of the two virtual tickets to Hanbury Show that were sitting in 30%'s inbox.  Hanbury is only a few miles down the road and their agricultural show is a little gem.  It is not huge like the Three Counties or The Royal Welsh, but it is just lovely. It is well attended, well organised and has everything one would expect at a manageable scale.  We had a lovely few hours wandering around. A few showers were dodged and an ice cream was shared.  We fell in love several times as we wandered along the pig pens and future plans for the orchard may well involve a pair of these lovely animals.

In the evening we headed over to Huntingdon Hall in Worcester to see Richard Herring's Can I have my ball back? stand up show.  We have seen Richard many times and this deeply personal account of his testicular cancer experiences was brilliantly funny and delivered with pace and enthusiasm.  It is many years since we were last at the Hall and I had forgotten just how intimate it is. We were a couple of rows back from the stage and had a huge sense of connection with the performer.

So that just about covers Saturday.  TP is attending the Classic Ibiza gig at Ragley Hall this evening and the weather appears to have settled. We haven't a clue where he is sleeping, just that he is likely to be making an appearance at the cottage at some point on Sunday ... probably nursing a monstrous hangover!

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* I had a fairly busy day planned and I really didn't want to add an hour of gun cleaning to the schedule.

The weekend begins

 Clearly I haven't lost the habits established over thirty seven years of work because Friday was very much a lazy day marking the transition to the weekend. Although every day is a Saturday or a Sunday now we are retired the weekend still has special status. I suppose it is because a significant proportion of our friends are still working and many events are scheduled for the weekend.

Anyway, back to Friday, I did very little. It was as quiet as Thursday was busy, I took a walk sans chiens in to the village to collect a prescription from the surgery and that was about it. I did also sit out in the sun and tie a few hair rigs* in preparation for next week's fishing trip, but that really was just an excuse to catch a few rays.

The afternoon involved a snooze on the sofa and some watering in the garden before 30% returned from her Spa break.

Not a fascinating read, I will admit, but my pre-weekend** was just perfect.

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* Hair Rig: an item of fishing tackle that is attached to the end of one's line. It allows bait to be presented whilst sitting alongside, rather than attached to, the hook

** Apparently the Yoof  portmanteau this to Prekend.

The Power of the List

I am a strong believer in the power of the list. I find that simply documenting a set of objectives is an incredible motivator, leading to an effective use of my time.

Now this may sound like the introduction to a Manage Your Way to Success self help tome. And, if you think about it, a lot of the management and business process stuff that is spouted is simply based on making a list. The only difference is that the management publications add a lot of posh words and superfluous waffle, taking a chapter to over-explain something that only really needs a couple of sentences.

Let me explain ...

The first thing that needs to be done is to think about the things that need to be done.  In the world of business and projects this will range in description from a Brainstorming Session to Producing a Work Breakdown Structure. Fundamentally they are both just stages in identifying shit that needs to be completed.

Now we move on to documenting writing out the list of things that need to get done.  As soon as we start to prioritise and sequence that list we are  Identifying The Critical Path and when we start to estimate the time needed to complete each activity and what is needed to complete it we are in to Resource Planning and Duration Estimation. Fundamentally we have entered the world of Project Planning.

If we take the aforementioned list and share it with one's partner for their views and input, we have identified a Stakeholder, initiated a Review Process and probably initiated a Governance Process too.

As soon as we start to address the items on the list, crossing them out as we complete them, we are Project Managers and, as we let our signifiant other know how we are doing, we have established a Reporting Process.

I will wager that there are individuals and corporations out there making a handsome living via the medium of LinkedIn on-line seminars that are fundamentally based on just making a bloody list and working your way through it.

As for me, I hit my list hard today and got a lot of shit done.

The incubator was fired up as soon as I got my first cup of coffee down my throat and fingers are crossed for a successful hatching in twenty one days time.

I then hit the internet and completed a click and connect order at Screwfix. After breakfasting I gathered my photo ID and headed off to pick up my order. On the way back I had a minor detour via the polling station to vote.

Back at home I successfully negotiated the NHS App and managed to submit a request for some eye drops before I headed out to the garden.  Initially the weather was cool and breezy and I sheltered in the greenhouse nipping out the tomato side shoots and training the vines. As the weather warmed I headed out to the veg patch and planted another batch of runner beans along with the bamboo teepees needed to support them.

Thursday night is fishing night and the dogs would be home alone this evening, so I took them out for a good walk as recompense, before I headed over to Barton. I only fished until about half past nine and didn't see much action, although Bubbles landed a couple of chub shortly after I left ... Typical!

So, there you have it. A cynical discourse on management bull shit or support for the power of the list. Either way, I got a lot done today.

An early start

 We were out of the house and heading towards darkest Herefordshire shortly after eight o'clock this morning.  

It was a ninety minute drive to reach Pembridge Poultry where we picked up twenty fertile eggs.  We have ten eggs from Cuckoo Marans and Norfolk Grey breeds and these will be rested overnight before being placed in our incubator tomorrow morning.

30% is now praying for a 100% hatch and no cockerels!

On the way back from Pembridge we picked up Jules and headed back home. A quick lunch was taken before 30% and Jules headed off towards Ashby-de-la-zouch for a couple of days of R 'n R at Champneys Spa.

I was left to my own devices, so made best use of my time by having a massive kip on the sofa.* Feeling marginally refreshed, I hauled my backside outside and spent a couple of hours dismantling and de-nailing the pallet that held our new poultry house. My pile of softwood further increases, and is now joined by a large sack of kindling.

As the afternoon drew in to evening I did what any man alone did** and threw a pizza in the oven.***

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* In my defence I will offer that I was awake by half past four this morning and tossed and turned for about forty minutes, before rising just after five o'clock.

** No, not that! You smutty sod!

*** I love to cook, but cooking for one can seem like a massive amount of effort with none of the reward that comes from sharing a meal.

But no eggs

 We had a full agenda planned for today. Well, we did until the 'phone rang before breakfast.

We had arranged to head over to Pembridge this morning to pick up some fertile hens eggs. That trip was abandoned when the poultry breeder called to let us know that "something had come up" and could we, instead, call later in the day.  Unfortunately that was going to clash with a couple of other scheduled appointments, so it looks like we'll be collecting the eggs tomorrow instead.

Our morning was now free, so I filled a bowl with hot, soapy water and headed out to the Store Room and spent a good part of the morning cleaning the bacon slicer and storing it away.

The afternoon's appointments were both of an optical nature. I had a diabetic eye screening test in Redditch and 30% had a post cataract surgery checkup in Alcester.  Her eye is healing beautifully and she can relax and look forward to her planned two night stay at a Spa, starting tomorrow.

All of this excitement resulted in a fairly long snooze on the sofa, before I headed out around the Three Miler with Bobbyn and the dogs.

That just about covers Tuesday's comings and goings apart from the fact that Bubbles has managed to pick up a couple of very inexpensive, but favourably reviewed, Fly Fishing outfits from the Middle of Lidl.  We both had a fly fishing lesson back in April and thoroughly enjoyed it.* We fancy another go, but didn't want to spend a fortune on equipment that will only be used infrequently. The thirty quid outfits seem ideal, so it looks like we will need to plan another trip up to the trout lake.

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* and the trout we caught, which I baked in a jacket of breadcrumbs, chopped smoked bacon and lemon zest. 

Bacon Everywhere

 After a weekend spent smoking bacon, today's mission was to get the loins and belly sliced and packed.

It took me a few minutes to get everything prepared and I was making inroads in to the bacon mountain shortly after 30% headed off for a manicure.  It is a slow repetitive process and processing the meat took the best part of five hours. After slicing the rashers are divided in to 8 oz portions and these are vacuum packed, before being frozen for later consumption.

The final score was 17lb 8oz of back bacon, 2lb 8oz of streaky bacon and just under 8oz of lardons. For the mathematically disinclined that amounts to over 20lb of dry cured, smoked bacon and doesn't include the 10oz of rashers that are wrapped in clingfilm in the bottom of the fridge.

After clearing up*, I took a well earned snooze and then pottered for the rest of the afternoon. Ingredients were thrown in to the bread maker and buttons were pressed,** plants were watered and grumbles were shared about the current, cool, breezy weather after the lovely sunshine in the last days of June.

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* When I say "cleared up" what I really mean is that the kitchen is free of packing paraphernalia and the work surfaces are visible. I still need to dismantle and clean the slicer, but that can wait a day or two.

** Some people would say that they "made bread", but that seems like gross exaggeration to me. The machine does all of the work.

An Ulterior Motive

 This morning I unwrapped the two cured loins and placed them in the tea chest smoker.  It is barely big enough and they hang barely a centimetre above the smoke generating tray.  I got the smoker lit early and 30% and I went about our morning.

30%'s high level plan was for us to meet up with Michelle for coffee and take in a garden centre.  This plan evolved and we took in a local aquatics establishment and this really got us thinking about pond options up in the orchard. They had a large pond with beautiful marginal plants including the quite splendid Gunnera.  This really got us thinking as we have had recent conversations about the options for a wildlife pond up there ... let's see how this evolves.

After coffee, cake and pond viewing we headed over to Golls Nurseries for a wander around their displays with Michelle. She is new to gardening, but very keen and we did our best to impart what little horticultural knowledge we have.

Back at home we lunched and I headed out to the larger of the two greenhouses to fit a couple of automatic openers to the roof vents. Hopefully that will help temper the temperatures, which can exceed 45 ℃ on a sunny day.

In the evening we were joined by Bubbles, Bobbyn and their pack of mini terrorists* for dinner. This is where the "ulterior motive" became relevant.  When 30% invited them over she made clear that recompense for dinner would be sought and that recompense would be assistance with moving the new chicken house up to the orchard.

The orchard gateway is a little over 3' wide and the chicken house is a modern recycled plastic ark that is wider still.  Help was definitely needed to carry the large coop. Bubbles and I manhandled it off the pallet and our initial thoughts were that it looked like it was going to be a bit of a pig to move. However investigation of its interior revealed very clever design and the two perches, once installed, protruded from the front and rear of the ark and made perfect poles to carry it up the garden.

Lifting it over the gateway was also less effort than expected and it now sits up under the Bramley apple tree until we decide where to locate it. We have already decided that we may use a clear tarpaulin in an attempt to keep the run dry in the wetter months.

The next step is chickens and we are off to pick up some fertile eggs on Tuesday.

Dinner was lovely and, like perfect guests, B&B left relatively early allowing us to spend an hour or two relaxing before another hectic week of retirement.

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* Three Parsons Jack Russel x Patterdale terriers; Lupin, Luna and Bellatrix**

** Bobbyn is a huge Harry Potter fan.

You can't have too many tealights

 ... or, perhaps you can!

The recent spell of warm dry weather meant that the lawns looked a little straggly and, having procrastinated for the latter half of the week, I finally dragged the ailing porn mower* from the shed and attended to all but the front lawn. I'm glad I did, as the transformation made the effort worthwhile.

Having attended to the garden, 30% and I lunched and tidied ourselves up for a trip over to The Regal in Evesham to see Susie Dent present her Secret Life of Words lecture.

I hadn't been to The Regal for the best part of forty years and it has benefited from refurbishment and a reimagining and now hosts a variety of entertainments from films through to live performances. The seating is now comfortable and well spaced and food and drink are now delivered to your seat.  It is a really pleasant venue and I was very impressed by the whole experience.

Susie's performance was relaxed, informative and amusing and I thoroughly enjoyed it. As someone who has, perhaps, slightly more than a passing interest in words** I was familiar with much of her narrative, but I had a great afternoon relaxing with a large gin and tonic listening to well presented, interesting stuff. 

On the way out of Evesham we popped in to a supermarket to pick up a couple of essentials and one of these was a packet of tealights.  One might wonder why I regarded tealights as essentials and I have to report that this is massive and recent change in my perspective.

Warning! There now follows a rambling and, probably, uninteresting tale ... 

For almost all of the time that 30% and I lived at The Pile*** there was a Tesco carrier bag hung on a hook on the right as one descended the stairs to the cellar.  In that bag were many tealights and I cannot recall a single occasion when one was removed from the bag and lit. The fact that we had so many of the damned things and never bloody used them was a running joke in the family, as was the decision to throw them out when we did the pre-move clear out in the Autumn and Winter of 2020.

Well! Today I finally needed a tealight as my new cold smoking tray was scheduled for delivery. The cold smoking tray is filled with sawdust and a tea light is used to light it. I was keen to get the recently cured bacon smoked hence the elevation of the humble tealight to an essential item. The irony of the disposal of a couple of hundred of them after fifteen years was not lost on the two of us.

A pack of fifty was the smallest quantity available and these were added to our shopping basket. Back at home I eagerly opened up the new cold smoking tray and read through the instructions. I quickly learnt that the tealight is only lit for about two or three minutes to get the sawdust burning and also that a tealight was provided.

We now estimate that I will be able to smoke foodstuffs on a daily basis until I pop my clogs and I will still not run out of tealights.

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* It's really not sounding healthy now

** Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson is a good introduction to the madness that is the English Language.

*** September 2004 to February 2021

Post Script: The new cold smoker worked beautifully on its first trial and the slab of streaky bacon is now hung bathed in smoke in my little tea chest smoker.

Nothing to see here

 It was another quiet day today.

30% headed out to the hairdresser early, and then on in to Worcester to pick up eye drops from the clinic.  While she was out I grabbed a hoe* and headed out to the garden. I spent some time on the many weeds making an appearance in the veg patch, before heading out around the Three Miler with the dogs.

My return coincided with that of 30% and both of us were starving, so lunch was taken early. I had planned a long snooze on the sofa, but this needed to be abandoned when a member of the coven arrived.  I was required to remove a large clump of plants from the large perennial border at the back of the house and transport them to the back of her car.  This was mutually beneficial as "P" is keen to increase her plant stock and we have plans for this area of the bed. There is a repeat flowing geranium and a "Yellow Popsicle" Kniphofia that are currently sat in pots in the holding area. They will look lovely there.  

Before I could even consider planting, I needed to fill the large hole left after removing the plants. This involved a couple of trips to the orchard to collect topsoil and a few mole hills. Mole hill soil is a beautiful loam heaped up as the they work their way underneath the orchard. It was well worth collecting and adding to the soil in the bed.

That was my day, other than an hour of watering and feeding the plants in the greenhouses and vegetable patch. 

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* Sharp bladed garden instrument for removal of weeds, not a lady of ill-repute sex worker**

** Reviewed and edited by the Thought Police

Meh!

 I definitely peaked way too early today and then started a generally downward slide. As it says in the title of today's entry; Meh!

Yesterday 30% blagged a free pallet from the driver who delivered our new poultry ark.  They are a pain in the arse to dismantle,* but they are a supply of free softwood,** so I set to with a hammer and crowbar and spent a merry hour dismantling it.  It produced some reasonable timber and the few split pieces will serve as kindling come the Autumn. We may need a trellis to support the rose and the honeysuckle that have been planted up against Rose Cottage, so that may well be its new purpose.

Having dismantled the pallet, I breakfasted and then seemed to spend the rest of the day attempting to get my smoker to work.  I failed miserably and, in the end, bit the bullet and ordered a cold smoking tray on-line. These are a simple metal tray which is used to hold sawdust. The tray is constructed with a spiral path. One lights the sawdust at the outer end of the spiral and it smoulders slowly towards the centre over the next ten hours.  My current device is similar, but home made by Barbecue Dave. It has worked well in the past, but has always been a little temperamental, so we'll see how the new stuff works early next week.

Apart from watering the vegetable patch I did little else and was feeling somewhat frustrated and demotivated.  I have about twenty kilos of bacon to smoke and slice and am making no progress with this task at present.

I'm certain 30% was relieved when Mr Irritable headed out for an evening of fishing with Bubbles and Ben.  

This evening we were on the Avon at Fladbury and by half past six we were settled down on a large peg in search of barbel and chub.  It sounds so idyllic, but in reality it was an evening of snagged lines, lost rigs and virtually no bites. It is a good job that the conversation was witty and varied. The strong breeze became chilly as soon as the sun disappeared from view and we reeled in our lines a little after ten o'clock. The final score was zero fish caught,*** but I had a couple of half-hearted bites. When I checked my bait as we were packing up it was apparent that it had been well nibbled by a smaller fish, but it was clearly too small to take the 1" cube of garlic marinaded luncheon meat and associated hook.

Once again garlic flavoured bait seems to be the way forward as Bubbles and Bens' curry powder coated chunks were untouched.

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* Especially the removal of all the nails

**My little honey stand by the front gate is a testament to what can be done with a little creativity and a very strong aversion to getting in the car and heading over to B&Q.

*** This is not an unusual score

There's no smoke ...

Christ, It was hot today! It is fair to say that not a lot was achieved in the garden as a simple wander around the vegetable garden was enough to bring on heat induced fatigue.

The day started with a trip in to Bromsgrove for a check up at the dentist and a quick wander around the aisles of Morrisons. I then headed home* and attempted, key word attempted, to smoke the slab of cured belly pork that should, more accurately, now be called streaky bacon.

I set up my tea chest smoker and packed oak sawdust in to the little tray where it smoulders and produces wafts of smoke.  I lit it with a blow torch and blew on it to ensure that it was smouldering nicely, before placing it in the base of the smoking cabinet and closing the door.

After twenty or thirty minutes I checked and the ember had died and no smoke was being produced. I tried other batches of sawdust and even hickory pellets but nothing would take.  I must have attempted half a dozen time, but I couldn't get the damned thing to smoke.

It has worked perfectly on previous occasions, but not today. I gave up in the late afternoon, wondering whether the sawdust was damp and, like a drowning man clutching at straws, put a batch in a low oven to dry.

At this rate I'll be slicing green bacon rather than smoked.

It is fair to say that I was quite frustrated by the inability to get the smoker going and felt that I needed some sort of win. I therefore made preparations for Autumn by lining a couple of large wooden crates with chicken wire. These will be used to produce leaf mould later in the year. I transferred the crates up to the orchard and concealed them behind Rose Cottage. 

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* The large pallet in the car port did not escape my attention ... I guess the new poultry ark has arrived then. 

Thanks for sharing

Today was scorching, so apart from ensuring that the garden was watered little else was achieved. I will however report on this morning's social event.

After the hypothermic visit to Rowberry's Nursery a couple of weeks ago, 30% arranged that we should meet up with the Tweedys for brunch* and today was the day.

The weather was far better and I arrived closer to death due to the passage of time rather than the previous occasion where I was closer to death due to a crashing core temperature. In other words, I was much warmer and in a better frame of mind.

We joined the Tweedys for coffee and, Oh God I've got to say it again, brunch.** It was after a few mouthfuls that things started to go horribly wrong ...

Mrs Tweedy is an opinionated shrew at the best of times and today she decided to inform 30% and I that diabetes isn't really a disability and that we should consider ourselves lucky that it can be treated so effectively.

Now 30% are both Type 1 diabetics and Mrs Tweedy isn't. Our collective experiences of managing the condition over a combined ninety years are nothing when compared to the ignorant bitch's ill informed opinions.  I did challenge her views and she had the fucking temerity to attempt to maintain her argument.

Fortunately Mr Tweedy has far more sense and emotional intelligence and wisely suggested that she continue with her meal.

30% and I were both bloody incensed by this display of complete and utter ignorance and the brass necked attempt to maintain her position when challenged by two individuals with considerable personal experience of the condition.

She is an obnoxious, ignorant, know-nothing bitch with less social intelligence than a chimp that investigates its own turds.

Rant over ... for the moment!

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* Do you really need to ask whether I am a brunch person!  Do I look like a twat that wears sunglasses indoors, at night?  Do I refer to a group of aquaintances as "Guys"? No I do not and neither do I see the need to mess up my calorific intake by either adding an extra meal or partaking of my lunch an hour before normal. 

** I've just had a crawly flesh moment.

Domesticity

 I was out and about early this morning and had a lovely chat with an Uber driver that clearly had no idea that he should stop and give way to traffic that is already circulating the roundabout on the outskirts of Alcester ... the fucking moron just pulled out in front of me!

Anyway, I managed to avoid a collision and went on to "win at shopping".  It was one of those days when I wandered in to my local hardware store and they had exactly what I needed.  Let me explain, the plan for today was to prepare the cured pork loins for smoking. This would involve removing the loins from the vacuum bags, washing them off and patting them dry, before wrapping them in muslin and hanging them to air dry for a few days.

I needed something to ensure that they remain clean and not danced upon by any of my little insect chums, so what could I use?  After being guided to the location of cotton string, the helpful assistant suggested muslin squares. I doubted these would be big enough, but wandered over for a look. In passing my eye fell upon a roll of mutton cloth and the heavens opened and a choir of Angels sang. I grabbed a roll and was delighted that this was absolutely perfect. The mutton cloth is a seamless tube of soft cotton material that can be cut to length.  Its modern use is for polishing, but in the past it was used to cover sheep carcasses prior to them being butchered in to smaller cuts.

Delighted, I grabbed a roll and hurried home.  The rest of the morning was taken up with the cured loins and these are now hanging in the cool of the workshop dressed in their mutton cloth jackets.

The afternoon saw me mentally prepare for the next job by having a quick snooze on the sofa.  I then mixed up a batch of SBK Brush Killer and headed out to spray the nettles in the orchard.  It is not a job that I enjoy as it is very much a "painting the Forth Bridge" type of job. Despite spraying or brush cutting, the bloody things come back with a vengeance and the job repeats.

30% and I have decided that we need to get the ground in the orchard levelled so that we can get it seeded with a grass mixture. The levelling will allow us to use the ride-on mower up there and mowing will encourage a strong sward which will easily outcompete the nettles. The only problem is that the access to the orchard is a narrow gate and a mini digger is about the biggest device we can get up there. 30% has contacted a chap to come over and give us a quote.

I had enough SBK for three batches* of spray and I estimate that I covered about two third of the nettles. The rest of the bloody things can wait for a couple of days.  Hopefully the sprayed plants will have wilted by then and I'll have a better idea of what I have already treated ... fingers crossed.

Back in the garden I joined 30% on the patio and we watched the fledgeling dinosaurs on the feeders in the garden.  After an hour watching young thrushes, greenfinches, robins and great tits, I planted another short row of Spring onions and think that there may be signs of growth in the  3' row that I planted ten days ago.

It was now mid afternoon and, as I put the sprayer away, my eyes fell upon the Horticultural Club annual show signs that are currently sat in the car port. I've recounted the tale of my resignation from my role as co-chair, but the signs are likely to sit here until they need them to advertise the annual show in early September. Two of the signs have damaged posts, so I decided that I would fix the damned things and then I could walk past them without feeling a nagging of responsibility or obligation to repair them. It was a fairly straightforward job to cut and replace the posts from some timber that I had in store, and by six o'clock I was finished and sat in the evening sun with a glass of red wine.

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* 15 litres in total

Prescott

This event had been on the cards for quite a while.

My birthday is in late December, and last year TP presented me with a voucher for us to go to the Classics at Prescott Hill Climb in May.  Unfortunately his work schedule clashed with the event and we, instead, settled on the Prescott Bike Festival which took place over this weekend.

We have been several times over the past few years and the title is self explanatory. It is an informal motorcycle get together in aid of the Blood Bikes Charity. It is an occasion when motorcyclists can apply for an opportunity to run their machine, untimed, up the Prescott Hill Climb course.

The weather was beautiful and, after a wander around the Paddock, TP and I settled ourselves on one of the benches on the hillside and watched the Bikers "run wot they brung".

We saw an amazing variety of motorcycles from modern Super Motards to Classics including a Vincent Black Shadow and several historic racing bikes. 

However our favourite are often the specials and today's winner was a wheelbarrow that had been grafted to the front of a very low slung motorcycle frame. We both awarded virtual honours to the chap that piloted this up hill.  On previous occasions we have seen a rocket powered shopping trolley and even a jet powered hearse, but the wheelbarrow wins by a country mile.

At the end of our day TP headed back to Cardiff to prepare for another week working at Shepperton and I headed back home for a takeaway from China Twon.*

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* This is an intentional typo, let me explain.  For many years our favourite Chinese Takeaway in Alcester proudly displayed and distributed menus bearing the name "China Twon". This was clearly a mistake, an oversight, but we love their food and we have religously referred to the establishment as China Twon ever since we first noticed the glaring error. So, here's a question; is it a typo or a clever marketing ploy? Well the answer is that it was a typo because they have recently, disappointingly, reprinted their menus and corrected the mistake. They will, however, always be China Twon to us.

I ran out of steam

Today's intention was to spray the nettles up in the orchard with SBK brush killer.

Overnight showers had left the vegetation wet, so any spraying needed to be put off until later in the day when everything had dried out.

I therefore started by massaging the cure in to the pork loins and putting on a batch of honey to warm prior to bottling. 

Over the course of the morning I bottled the first batch of honey, put on another batch on to warm and headed out to the raspberry bushes to tie in some of the canes and prune some of the more wayward growth.

By lunchtime I had bottled the second and final batch of honey and had cleared away most of the detritus from that job. I then dutifully gathered up the garden sprayer and SBK and just ground to a halt.

I decided that the weather seemed to be looking good for the next week so the spraying could wait. I, instead, hit the sofa for a good ninety minutes and awoke feeling almost refreshed. My waking coincided with the arrival of a sub-sect of the coven.

I would be home alone this evening as 30% had arranged to see a showing of the Rocket Man film with live orchestration in the Birmingham Symphony Hall.  As she and her coven left, Bubbles turned up and it was time for some edumacation.  Over the past year Bubbles has been teaching me to fish and he has been attempting, and failing, to teach me to shoot clay pigeons for much, much longer.  This evening it was my turn to be Yoda ... 

Bubbles has always wanted to learn to ride a motorcycle and Bobbyn had bought him a voucher for his Motorcycle Compulsory Basic Training (CBT) course as a birthday gift.  Bubbles was really excited, but, by his own admission, he was also very nervous as he has never ridden a motorcycle before.  I had therefore offered him a pootle up and down the lane on my Moto Guzzi V7 Stornello to get him used to the controls and basic riding skills.

Well! Despite his nerves he took to it like the proverbial duck to water. After a couple of tentative, feet barely off the ground, first gear runs up the lane, he finally had the confidence to take on the advice that everything is easier if you just go a little bit faster. He was soon confidently riding up and down the lane changing through the first couple of gears and making very controlled stops.

He was absolutely delighted with the introduction and well pleased he should be. We then had a leisurely natter about riding gear whilst enjoying the evening sun in the garden.

I am pretty sure he will be back for another couple of rides before his CBT on 10th July. I also wouldn't be surprised if he makes an offer on my R nineT as soon as he passes his test.

Odds and Ends

Friday was one of those days when I seemed to be on the go all day, but on review it was just a series of little jobs.

I started out by putting a batch of honey in to a hot water bath to start the bottling process and then massaged the bacon that is curing in the fridge.

I then headed out to the tomato greenhouse and was appalled by the mass of chickweed that covered the soil. It's a shame that we don't have chickens yet, as they would have devoured the sweet green shoots. Instead, I set to with a hand hoe and cleared the mess around each of the tomato plants.

This gave me a chance to inspect each plant, nip out any side shoots and tie them in to their supporting canes.

By the time I had just about finished in the greenhouse the honey needed attending to, and I spent the next half an hour bottling the 6 lb batch.  I have another two batches to bottle before I reach the bottom of the 30 lb tub I bought from Pete last Saturday.

The afternoon saw a trip in to the village. 30% seems to be having a pain free recovery, but she is not yet able to drive, so I was invited to a meeting of the coven in Sheila's garden. This was obviously just an excuse to ensure 30% was able to attend, but I had a fun time listening to the gossip, checking out Sheila's garden and partaking of coffee and cakes.

After a pleasant couple of hours sat in the sun, we headed back home and took a siesta. On waking I extracted the streaky bacon from the fridge. This slab of belly pork has been curing for four full days and is, most definitely, bacon by now.

I cut open the vac bag and extracted the slab of green bacon.* I rinsed off the remaining cure under the tap and then patted the bacon dry. It was then carefully wrapped in a muslin sheet and hung up to air dry.  I will leave it for four or five days before smoking it.

Apart from watering the veg patch, that pretty much sums up my day.

On a final note I can report that the carrots have sprouted and I am DEFINITELY going to need to thin them out.  Despite diluting the seed with silver sand, I have 5 yard long rows of very densely planted seedlings. I estimate that I should either half the amount of seed used or double the length of my rows.

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* Green Bacon: Bacon that has been cured, but not smoked.

Mostly sitting down

 I had blocked out my agenda for today as I would be accompanying 30% in to Worcester for her cataract surgery.

We spent the early part of the morning making sure that the garden was watered before leaving well ahead of 30%'s appointment time. The early departure was so that we could call in at Jules' house to proffer birthday greetings and gifts. Coffee was drunk, gossip was exchanged and then we headed down in to the city, parked and wandered in to the clinic.

30% was seen promptly. Drops were applied to her right eye to dilate the pupil and a rather fetching black arrow was drawn on her forehead to indicate the eye to be treated. She was then sent out to wait for the eyedrops to take effect.

We were both under the impression that we would be in and out of the clinic in about an hour.  Unfortunately this was not the case. Despite the actual procedure taking only twenty minutes, we ended up being there for a good couple of hours due to complications with the patient immediately before 30%.

I amused myself with an extended period of people watching as the clinic looks out over a busy pedestrian thoroughfare leading to the High Street.  I found it quite fascinating to just watch little excerpts from peoples' lives as they wandered, cycled, ambled or strode down the fifty yards of pavement in front of me.

30% was eventually escorted in to the OR and twenty minutes later she reappeared. It had all gone well and after receiving various eyedrops and post-op guidance leaflets we headed home.

A siesta followed a late lunch and I was rudely awoken just before five o'clock by my 'phone. 

It was Bubbles asking if I was still on for an evening's fishing.  30% had confirmed that she was happy to be left at home alone, so I threw my fishing gear in the back of the Defender and headed over to Barton for an evening's fishing on the River Avon.

Our chosen spot is a lovely little meander on the river that is just downstream from the lock and weir. This was our first evening of river fishing in 2024 and, as we set up our gear, we voiced our hopes for monster barbel so strong that they would almost pull our rods from our hands.

We had a lovely evening and learnt something quite interesting. We were ledger fishing using a hair rig and our chosen bait was 1" cubes of luncheon meat. Last year Bubbles was insistent that luncheon meat marinaded with curry powder was the best bait and we did manage to pull a few fish from the water with it. He had therefore turned up this evening with that concoction.

I had gone for an alternative of luncheon meat marinaded with garlic paste and we decided to see whether there was any difference ... There most definitely was!

From the outset I was getting far more attention on my bait and, after I pulled a small chub* from the river, Bubbles switched bait.  In less than ten minutes he had a fantastic bite that was probably a large barbel. Unfortunately the fish broke free leaving an empty hook. Bubbles, ever the optimist, was simply delighted that he now knew that there were barbel for the taking on this stretch of the river.

After changing to the garlic infused bait his bite rate increased significantly.

We fished until eleven o'clock and then headed home. Both of us were delighted in a great start to our 2024 river fishing season with a catch and a new bait identified.

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* Possibly 1.5 lbs and about 9 or 10" in length