Chick Update

It is time for the results of our recent incubation. We set twenty eggs on the Fourth of July. Ten were from Cuckoo Marans and the other ten were from Norfolk Grey chickens.

The eggs were due to hatch on Thursday 25th, but the first chick, a cuckoo Maran made its appearance on Wednesday.

By Thursday morning a couple more had hatched and the end of day total was five.

Friday was a busy day at the Game Fair, but we checked the eggs before we left, and ten were cheeping and staggering around the incubator. 

On our return we checked again and no more had hatched. As we were now a day over the normal twenty one day incubation, we decided it was time to open up the incubator and take a look. We also transferred the hatched chicks to a Brooder pen, providing food, water and an electric hen to keep them warm

One further egg had pipped, but the other nine were still intact. I float tested* these and none seemed show any indications of containing a hatching chick.  All of the eggs were returned to the incubator.

On Saturday morning no further eggs had pipped. The one egg that had pipped had cracked further but the chick was struggling. 30% stepped in and assisted the hatch. The youngster was left to dry off and recover from the exertions of hatching.

By Sunday we transferred the last check to the Brooder pen and turned off the incubator. The final total was eleven chicks; six Norfolk Greys and five Cuckoo Marans.  A fifty five percent hatch rate isn't great, but it could have been a lot worse. Now we need to wait a few weeks to see how many pullets we have.

Oh, and 30% is already scouring the internet for another batch of fertile eggs!

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* Float testing: If a hatching, but not yet pipped, egg is floated in warm water, the movement of the chick stirring inside the egg will jiggle the floating egg. No jiggling suggests that the egg is either infertile or the chick is dead in shell.

The Game Fair

 We were up early this morning and, after a quick breakfast, we whizzed around the garden and ensured that everything was well watered.  Next on the list was to take the dogs for a short walk to make sure they were emptied!

Then we all bundled in to the Defender and headed off down the A44 to Blenheim Palace for this Years Game Fair ... basically an excuse for a commercial extravaganza wrapped around a theme of Hunting, Shooting and Fishing. 

We had a lovely day, parts of which were spent with Bubbles and Bobbyn. The weather was just perfect, dry and sunny, but not too hot for the dogs. As for the dogs, they got many compliments and caresses ... mostly accompanied by statements to the effect of "it's so nice to see proper poodles rather than doodles and cockapoos!"

Having three large dogs meant that most of our day was a wander around and a general viewing rather than intense scrutiny of any of the events, demonstrations or commercial outlets. However, we did end up ordering a case of some splendid wines and a replacement cheese knife was also purchased.*

We headed home at about four in the afternoon. We had had a lovely day, but we both agreed that it is a far better event when it is hosted three miles down the road from home at Ragley Hall.**

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* How the hell do you loose a bloody cheese knife?  We had a little beauty, but it simply disappeared about 6 months ago, never to be seen again. We are both blaming TP for that crime!

** The Blenheim organisers haven't got a fucking clue about car parking or signposting within the venue.

Busy Day

Today was always going to be a busy day.

We have chicks hatching in the incubator, but they don't demand a lot of attention. In fact, the worst thing one can do is to open up the incubator for a better look. We just needed to be patient and leave them to hatch in their own time.

So, off we went to Alcester for eye tests. 30% was due for her post cataract surgery check up and all was good. We hope that the second operation, scheduled for October, will go as smoothly. As for me, I had my last eye test in February, but I felt that my vision had deteriorated and wanted to check that all was well. It turned out that my prescription had changed and, by the end of the session, my wallet was three hundred quid lighter as readers and long distance spectacles were now needed.

We had a fun time choosing specs, and then headed down the high street to the show shop to return a pair that 30% had gifted me last week.  They were lovely sandals, but they just didn't fit correctly, so back they needed to go. Again, we had a super time with the sales assistant* and found a pair that fitted perfectly and also a replacement pair of Josef Siebel Max mules ... my slipper of choice.

With our Alcester trip completed we headed back home and had a hasty lunch. We then headed over to Pershore to pick up a pair of teak Steamer Chairs that 30% had found on Facebook Marketplace.  They will be perfect for the garden, needing only a new set of cushions. I might give them a rub down and oil over at some point over the Winter, but, for the Summer, we can put up with their slightly worn appearance.

Back at home we both collapsed and snoozed for an hour before Mr and Mrs Tweedy arrived for afternoon tea and a peep at the hatching chicks. Mrs Tweedy was at the better end of her irritability spectrum today, so we had a reasonable couple of hours catching up on 30%'s family news.

Bobbyn arrived shortly after their departure and we headed off around the Three Miler with the mutts. More peeping at chicks followed, before I collapsed on the sofa with supper.

As for the chicks, the end of day count was five.

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* She made it quite clear that we could take as much of her time as we liked and that she was quite willing to bend over backwards ... basically do anything but be involved with the mother and two boisterous children that needed new trainers.

Cut out the middle man?

 This morning 30% and I headed in to Redditch to pick up some supplies from a local Feed & Tackle Store.  30% failed to find a suitable poultry drinker and I emerged from the fishing tackle section with my wallet £20 pounds lighter.

That was the point where I should, knowing what I know now, have just thrown the twenty quid straight in to the river ... or a convenient bin.

The day rolled on and minor jobs were completed. The high spot of the day is that a couple of the eggs in the incubator have started to pip.  The young chicks have managed to make an initial chip in the eggshell, but it will be several hours before they manage to break free.

Now, back to fishing and fishing tackle. This evening I headed over to Fladbury and set myself up on a peg near the bridge, as suggested by Bubbles. Over the course of the evening I was, once again, subjected to inane and deeply uninteresting trivia from the workshop of the local Volkswagen dealer. I also managed to loose not one, but two sets of tackle on an underwater snag and had barely a bite all evening. By ten o'clock I was quite cold and decided to pack up my gear ... just as Ben pulled a beautiful chub from the river.

At this point I realised that I could have just chucked the twenty quid straight in the river and spent the evening at home with 30%.

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Post Script: I actually do enjoy my fishing. There is something quite zen about the preparation, the gathering of the tackle, the set up of rod, line, hook and bait. It comes close to meditation. And, as for the hours watching the rod tip, the flow of the river and the rising of the fish, that is incredibly relaxing. And there is also the underlying tension of the potential catch!

It is just that, recently, I find myself somewhat irritated by B&B's chatter. They work together, hence much of the discussion is work related and I find myself excluded. Also Ben is only twenty two and has very little life experience. Consequently a conversation with him tends to be limited ... he is a nice kid, but discourse with him is definitely within boundaries established by his lack of life experience.

Perhaps I need to invest in a landing net and fish on my own peg for a while.

Quite Busy

 A short entry in the Journal today, as I need to be sorting out fishing tackle rather than sitting in front of a screen.

Tuesday morning was spent dealing with vital, but relatively minor items from my to do  list.  The cobweb covered poultry feeders and drinkers were scrubbed clean and put out in the sun to dry.  A moisture trap was placed in the BMW and I prepared some bait* for fishing on Wednesday.

I then extracted my tea chest smoker from the shed and set it up under the carport.  My intention was to smoke a few blocks of mature cheddar.  However, I was going to need to make a minor modification to the smoker to increase its capacity. 

The smoker has a single shelf comprised of removable dowels that is perfect for smoking a block of cheese. However, the cheese I smoked a few weeks ago was very popular and I had orders from Bubbles, a member of the coven and 30% for more. 

I needed to construct and install another removable shelf** in order to accommodate three pieces of cheddar. Fortunately a quick search of the workshop located dowels and a piece of oak that would work quite nicely. A happy couple of hours followed whilst I fashioned and installed the second smoking rack.

The smoker was lit, the cheese was inserted and the timer on my 'phone was set to two hours. 

Whilst the cheese smoked, I dragged The Beast from the shed and finished the lawns, specifically the rough areas around the garage and the verges at the front of the house.

That pretty much sums up my day apart from wrapping and refrigerating the cheese after smoking, a walk around the Three Miler with Bobbyn and the dogs and a lazy night trying to stay awake on the sofa.

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* cubed luncheon meat marinated in garlic paste with a sprinkle of madras curry powder.

** The shelves need to be removable so that the smoker can accommodate two full loins of pork, when I am smoking bacon.

Gardener's World

Today was always going to be a gardening day.  Our potterings over the weekend had identified a couple of jobs that needed attention and my plan was to get them crossed off the to do list.

First job of the day was to check the tomatoes, nipping out any side shoots and tying up the vines as necessary.  As I checked them over I was delighted to find that one of the fruits has finally started to ripen,* a first blush of red.  This is a gardening milestone for us and it seems to have taken an age this year, perhaps due to the mediocre weather that seems to be prevalent. 

I can't wait to enjoy our home-grown tomatoes rather than the frequently tasteless varieties available from the Supermarket.

After tying up the toms I headed out to the raspberry canes. The Autumn cropping varieties are starting to produce long shoots and these needed tying in to the supporting wires. By late morning I was finished and it was time for the first outing of the new Mountfield mower.

I am delighted to report that it mows beautifully and the lawns look fantastic,** having benefitted from the recent showers.

While I was mowing, 30% had been possessed by her pyromaniac alter ego and had an impressive bonfire burning in the orchard. By the end of the afternoon she had disposed of the huge pile of material cleared from the Pineapple Broom Bed, leaving me with another large area of the orchard to attack with The Beast later on in the week.

That's just about it for today, although I will mention that we now only have three days to go until the eggs are due to hatch. The incubator has automatically increased the humidity, slightly dropped the incubation temperature and turned off the egg turning function ... now we wait with bated breath for the first signs of pipping.

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* The variety is Bloody Butcher. This is the first year I have grown it and I am not overly impressed. The plants have not done well, when compared to the other varieties that I am growing; Alicante, Sweet Aperitif, Shirley, Marmande and Gardeners Delight. It may have won the prize for first tomato of the season, but it is far less vigorous than, and will be easily outcropped by, the other varieties.

** Apart from where that fucking mole has been buggering about!

Shattered!

After last night's dinner party it was one o'clock in the morning before my head hit the pillows.

You can, therefore, imagine my disgust when I found myself wide a-fucking-wake four hours later!  Try as I might, I couldn't get back to sleep, so I rose and took a very slow start to the day. As the morning continued I felt more and more groggy. It's not as though I can blame drink as I was the designated driver* last night. 

After re-setting the mole trap** I had to admit defeat and retired to my bed for a desperately needed hour of sleep.  This became a recurring theme throughout the day and further kips and snoozes were necessary at intervals.

The day wasn't a complete write-off though. 30% and I did manage to plant out her pea plants. They are just starting to flower and are now out in the veg patch with a rather professional looking mesh support for the vines.

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* I've actually been off the booze since the beginning of the month.

** Yes, another of the little bastards has encroached on the lawn ... fucker!

Don't count your chickens

 I am well aware that one shouldn't count their chickens before they hatch, but I am also equally aware that one should always be prepared.

With five days to go before our eggs are due to hatch we are making sure that we have everything we need to successfully raise the chicks. Feeders and drinkers have been located and will be cleaned and sterilised over the next couple of days. And much thought has been given to housing the young birds.

For the first six weeks they will need to be sheltered and kept warm, mimicking the conditions that would, under normal conditions, have been provided by the hen.  I have an old wooden brooder box that I built years ago. It is tried and tested, but is very heavy and rapidly developing chicks soon outgrow it. I therefore scoured eBay a few days ago and found a purpose built, easy to clean brooder up for auction. It would need to be collected, but was only about thirty miles away ... so guess what I was up to this morning?

Yep, I won the auction at the opening price of twenty quid and this morning 30% and I headed up the M42 to Coleshill to collect it.  I suppose one of the luxuries of being retired is having the time to find a bargain and then go and pick it up.

On our return we called in at one of the local feed stores and picked up some chick crumb. All I need to do now is get an additive for their drinking water to, hopefully, prevent coccidiosis, and we should have everything we need.

I assembled the brooder in the afternoon and delighted with it. It is light, spacious and easy to clean. All we need now is a successful  hatch.

The remainder of my afternoon was quite lazy.  Rain storms came and went and a planned dog walk didn't happen.

In the evening we headed in to Evesham for dinner with friends. Our hosts were Rosie and Jim and we were also joined by the Tewkesbury contingent; Gizzie and Jules.  The evening started with Gizz and Jules, recently returned from a trip to The States, arriving dressed as a cheerleader and a New York cop. It then descended in to many hours of great food and hysterical laughter.

It was, most definitely a late one!

A long, sweaty afternoon in the sun with a couple of Hos ...

By the end of it I was absolutely exhausted!

Hang on. After re-reading that intro I realise that I may have missed out an "e", or two.

It was another scorching day and, after breakfast in the sun and a stroll around the garden, 30% headed out for supplies and I attended to watering. 

30% returned just before lunch and informed me that "if we can't go to Greece yet, I'm going to bring Greece to us". She smiled and produced a lollipop Olive Tree in a pot and an inflatable paddling pool. Basically it's an instant villa kit ... just add sunshine, a few puffs of air and several litres of water.

30% was out again in the afternoon ... another triple c* session with the coven, so I was left alone. I did what any man starved of company would do and arranged for an afternoon with a couple of hoes.

Yep, I spent a long afternoon in the sun weeding the vegetable patch!

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* coffee, cake and chat

Home Alone

 It was foretold in the stars and the scattering of the chicken bones that I would be on my own for much of the day ... Basically 30% had planned a day out with the coven in Malvern. They would be away for most of the day, as lunch was planned before viewing a musical based on the hits of Dolly Parton.

This left me home alone with a couple of items to be, hopefully, crossed off the to do list.

It was a beautiful morning, and we started it with a gentle stroll around the garden before taking breakfast on the little bench that I have recently moved to catch the first rays as the sun rises over the orchard. 

As 30% made her preparations to leave, I realised that the tomatoes needed watering quite urgently and emptied several watering cans in the greenhouse. This left the water butts drained, so my next task was to unroll the hosepipe, plug in the well pump and refill them.

With my morning, and the water butts, duly filled, I retired to the shade for lunch before starting objective #1 ... nettle spraying.  

Parts of the orchard become thick with head high nettles as the year unfolds and they are a pig to control. I have tried brush cutting but it leaves the roots intact, allowing for regrowth.  My preferred approach is to spray with SBK. It is a selective, broad leaved herbicide that targets nettles, docks and brush, leaving grass unaffected. 

SBK is perfect for the orchard as our aim is to improve the grass cover. We are hoping that a combination of nettle killing and mowing will encourage and improve the grass to a point where we can actually call it pasture.

It took 13 litres of spray to treat the orchard and by the time I finished the last patch I was ready for a kip away from the afternoon sun.

In the later afternoon I gathered my fishing tackle together along with sundry items* and a rather tasty supper, before heading over to Barton for an evening fishing with Bubbles and Ben.  

Well! that turned out to be painful! I spent the evening sat between B&B and had to endure a fucking tedious conversation that tacked from shooting ear plugs to the comings and goings of a Volkswagen Dealership.  I wish I had selected a solo peg and enjoyed a quiet Summer evening rather than listen to their bloody nonsense.**

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* Phone, car keys, fishing permit etc

** To make matters even worse I had forgotten my insulin, so my home made chicken and mayo on wholemeal remained uneaten and my belly rumbled.

The Beast

I had problems getting my act together this morning.  I had jobs that needed to be done, but I just could not get my arse in to gear.

30% busied herself with further tidying of her Pineapple Broom's bed and suggested that we could complete a Tip Run before we needed to head in to Redditch to view the new, old mower.  I grudgingly agreed, fell in to line and soon found myself happily extracting items of garden debris and piling them up by the trailer.

At this point I should probably mention that the previous owner of the cottage was a) a bit of a hoarder and b) a bit of a bodger. The phrase "why do a job properly when you can assemble a half-arsed mess of inappropriate items" accurately sums up his approach. Over the past three years I have removed all sorts of stuff from gaps in the fences and hedges. We assume these were attempts to constrain Archie, their son's Lurcher. And, as for the chicken house, do not get me started on that abomination!*

Right! Back to the Tip Run. Obviously the Porn Mower was destined for recycling and it was joined in the trailer with several large sheets of metal mesh and plastic that had been inserted at various points in our boundary hedges. A few other odds 'n sods were added to the load and off we went to Hanbury tip.

A quick lunch was eaten on our return, before we headed off to Redditch to have a look at the second-hand mower.  It was a Honda engined McCulloch that was originally a self-propelled unit.  Time and some abuse had resulted in the failure of the self-drive functionality and it had been serviced and converted to a push only mower.

It started easily and seems perfect for hacking back the grass and weeds on the rough ground in the orchard. If it only lasts a season it will have earned its keep.

Hands were shaken, money was handed over and the Beast was loaded in to the back of the Defender. We then headed over to Evesham to pick up a prescription and a few comestibles.

Back at home it was time to try out the Beast and it was absolutely brilliant. I spent a merry couple of hours in the orchard and it was only thirst and a need to spray more nettles that brought the fun to a close. 

With a few more hours up there, it will start to look almost civilised.

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* Definitely a crime against carpentry and shed construction in general

How many lawn mowers does a man need?

 Achieving anything significant today was always going to be challenging. 

Hobson and Whiffler were booked in at the Groomers and this meant that at least an hour needed to be put aside at both ends of the day to ferry them to and from Stratford-upon-Avon.  "OK" I hear you say "but that is only a couple of hours, three at most" and I agree, but when you add in compulsory coffee breaks and a definite need to change in and out of filthy gardening clothes, the couple of hours becomes a significant disruption.

So, the day panned out as follows. We dropped them off in the morning and then headed over to Evesham with Dog#4 for coffee and a wander round the shops at The Valley.  That consumed most of the morning.

The afternoon was mostly pottering, but the most significant occurrence was that 30% has made contact with a chap in Redditch via Facebook Marketplace who has a second-hand mower for sale for a very reasonable sixty quid.

"Why the fuck do you need another Mower?" I hear you ask "You already have a ride-on that you rarely use and there is a one day old Mountfield sat in the shed!"  Well, these are good points, but you are forgetting that I blew up the Porn Mower* attempting to tame the orchard on Saturday. There is no way that I am going to expose my Beauties to the wilds of the orchard. 

If I am going to kill another mower it is going to be some cheap, potentially knackered old bastard from The Ditch!

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* God Bless its eternal soul

Out with the old, in with the new

 The forecast for today was torrential rain, which was due to arrive by lunchtime. That had a significant impact on our gardening plans and we ended up doing little jobs that could be easily aborted as the morning showers came and went.

30% contented herself with weeding out in the front, whilst I nipped out the side shoots and trained the tomatoes in the greenhouse. I then headed out to the vegetable garden and planted another row of spring onions and also a row of beetroot in the larger of the two raised beds. The carrots in the smaller bed were thinned about a week ago and are looking fantastic with their feathery foliage, evenly spaced in five neat rows.

In the early afternoon we headed in to Worcester to pick up the new lawn mower and collect a few sundries from the supermarket just over the road from Ron Smith Ltd. We were back home by two o'clock, just as the rain started.

30%'s life is punctuated by coffee breaks. Every activity is either preceded by, or followed up, with a cup of coffee, so our safe arrival home was celebrated with a cup of "instant" before I assembled the mower. 

It didn't seem to be an overly complex job. The push handle needed to be fixed in to place and the grass collection bag needed to be assembled. However, If I am honest, the task was made more complicated by the fucking appalling, infographic loaded, multi language pamphlet that had been substituted for a proper manual.* The booklet covered three model ranges and had model dependent assembly instructions. Unfortunately the diagrams did not make clear which model they for and there were a couple of steps that had to be redone after moments of inspiration, gifted by the deity** of lawn mowing.

As for the grass collection bag, do not get me started! The only reason I was able to get this put together was that I had read a couple of on-line reviews, and learnt that, if assembled inside out, the bag would simply fall apart once it was half full of clippings. It still took me a couple of attempts and a bloody big screwdriver to clip the bag on to its metal supports. What makes this worse is that I rarely use the grass collection bag, preferring to mow in mulch mode.

Anyway, rant over. All I need to do now is to decide on a name for the new mower.

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* A full manual is available on-line, but I am assembling the mower sheltered from the rain in the shed and I am sixty years old. There is no fucking way that I am going to use a tiny phone screen that turns off five seconds after I put the damned thing down, in order to tighten up the next bolt in the assembly process. I want a proper bloody manual that I can put down, open at the correct page and then glance at it when I am ready to follow the next step in the process. Is that too much to ask for Mountfield?

** Worship this all knowing entity properly and make the correct offerings.*** Then you can be certain of fine weather and a dry sward on the day you want to mow the lawn.

*** I have clearly fucked this god properly off as I have recently been stricken with a plague of moles!

Shooting at South Worcester

 A short one today!

In the eight months I worked at my last job I only managed to develop one working relationship. That says a lot about how badly the remote team was managed and it was probably the primary reason why I decided to retire. For someone who enjoys the solitude of home working, it is somewhat ironic that I found it a very lonely job. In every other remote working job I have had, the teams have been well managed and working relationships established with ease, many of them developing in to friendships.

That didn't happen with DXC* with the exception of the relationship with Gary.  A few months in to my employment I was assigned to shadow a deal being led by Gary and within a few minutes of our first phone call we realised that we were both cynical bastards that liked shooting.  The relationship blossomed and we have continued to keep in touch. 

His role in the relationship is to remind me how shit it is working for a living and my role is to piss him off by telling him how great retirement is.

Anyway, today he came down from Nottinghamshire and we went shooting with Bubbles and Ben at South Worcester shooting ground just the other side of Upton-upon-Severn. We had a splendid few hours in lovely sunshine and then headed back here for bacon rolls and a chat.

Once Gary had headed off I had a traditional Sunday afternoon snooze, followed by a very lazy evening.

All in all a grand Sunday!

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* The manager was, at best, a dispatcher who was fucking useless. He loved the sound of his own voice, but hadn't got a frigging clue how to listen or manage and unite a remote team. I realised very early on in my employment that he was pretty clueless and nothing changed my opinion in my time there. He seemed completely disinterested in how I was integrating in to the role and didn't assign me any work for over six months. There were a few nice people** on the team, but there was no opportunity or apparent willingness to develop relationships. It was basically just a bunch of middle aged men with their own assignments under a common manager.

** There were a couple of complete fucking pricks too, but, fortunately, they were relatively easy to avoid.

The King is Dead, Long Live the King

Saturday started with a trip in to Evesham to fill the Defender with diesel and to pick up a couple of bags of chipped bark. These were needed to mulch the bed that is now home to the Pineapple Broom.  En route we passed Golls Nursery and managed to pop in on both the outbound and inbound journeys!  We purchased three lovely little Coleus plants with the most beautiful russet coloured foliage. They aren't frost hardy, but, for the moment, they look lovely in the recently cleared bed.

Mole news; I learnt that the Wikipedia statement about them being "solitary creatures" is complete bollocks! Another of the little sods has created a new molehill barely inches from yesterday's successful trapping.  I've got over my mole killing remorse very quickly and have re-set the bloody trap.

I then dragged the mower from the shed and whizzed around the back lawn and greenhouses.  With the rear of the cottage looking neat and tidy, I decided to take the mower up in to the orchard and see whether it would be feasible to mow it.

At this point I probably need to state that the grass and weeds in the orchard are close to knee height and it is nearly quarter of an acre in size. This is the gardening equivalent of trying to paint the Forth Bridge with 2" paint brush.

Actually, I was very surprised! With the mower set to its highest cut it made a reasonable job of the test area* and both 30% and I were bowled over by how much better it looked.  We had already been talking about buying a second hand mower for use up there** and this trial has demonstrated that simply mowing the orchard vastly improves its appearance and will help to control the weeds and improve the sward.

In the afternoon I was persuaded to take a break from the garden and take a walk with 30% and the dogs. For a change we diverted from the Three Miler and headed over the little bridge towards the next hamlet.  A couple of hundred yards beyond the bridge we turned right on to the Bridle Path and found a delightful, overgrown, but easily passable path with lovely views over the fields.  We walked for, perhaps, half a mile before turning and heading back towards home and supper.

Back at home I decided to mow a little more of the orchard and re-started the mower. It has been making horrible noises for the past couple of outings and, after a couple of yards, it lost power and stalled. I attempted to restart it and, after a few pulls, got it going again, but it was very, very sick.  After thirteen years of faithful service it had finally expired.  Without a single look back, not a modicum of remorse I walked away, grabbed my tablet and got a new mower ordered ... I'll be picking that up on Monday. 

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* About 50 square yards

** Mowing the orchard is going to be very hard on any mower until the ground is levelled out, so I don't want to be buggering up a brand new mower up there.

Not all victories are glorious

I slept late this morning, well late for me, and was woken around eight o'clock by 30% with a mug of hot coffee.

After a very gentle start to the day, we divided and conquered. 30% headed out* whilst I attended to gardening matters.  The main vegetable crops were fed; tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbages and celeriac and then I went to inspect the mole trap ... Success!

I have caught one of the little blighters, but, despite yesterday's bluster, there is a poignancy to the deed. Moles are delightful little creatures and, as I have said before, I am perfectly happy for them to tunnel up in the orchard. And, for the past three years, that is exactly what they have done. It is a shame that there is no effective deterrent as that would be my preferred approach.

Midday approached and there was still no sight of 30%, so I dragged out the pawn mower and made a start on the front lawn. It was making a horrible noise, so I stopped and checked the blade. It is securely bolted to the drive shaft, but there is a lot of play and my imagination headed off down a very dark alley ... the one where the blade breaks loose from the drive shaft, exits the mower deck at the rear and shears off my feet at the ankles.

It is definitely time for a new mower!

The afternoon saw us clear the last of the ivy and brambles from behind the re-discovered bed and finally get the Pineapple tree in to the ground.  This, of course, creates a whole new gardening debate based around "what ground cover plants should we go with?"

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* For a chat with her half-sister

Crossing the Line

 A couple of weeks ago I was looking out from the bathroom window* and noticed a small heap of freshly dug earth at the edge of the lawn. 

In an instant each and every nerve fibre was on full alert ... it was clearly an initial foray by every green keeper's nemesis; a mole!

Now we have moles up in the orchard and I am quite happy for them to live their little subterranean lives, munching on worms and creating heaps of soft, brown earth.  However there is a line that shall not be crossed and that line surrounds each and every one of the lawns.

"Do your moley shit in the orchard and all is fine. Any foray on to the lawns is an open declaration of war!"

Over the following days a few more molehills appeared and a mole trap was purchased.  Now for a little tangent. Years ago my father informed me that moles have a very keen sense of smell and one should always handle mole traps with hands that have been rubbed with earth to mask our scent. Taking heed of this I ensured that the new mole trap was rubbed with damp soil and buried for a day or so, before I set it in the mole's run.

The approach I used was to dig carefully down with a hand trowel and locate the run about 5" below the surface.  I place a few chopped worms in the run as bait and carefully set the trap in place.  A bucket was upturned over the trap to keep every thing nice and dark and all needed to do now was to go about my business.

Should the mole be piggybacking on my wifi and reading the Journal, I have this message for it ... I WILL END YOU, YOU LITTLE FUCKER!

The rest of the day involved some gentle gardening, an invitation from the coven to attend an Indian cuisine demonstration and an evening fishing at Fladbury with Bubbles.**

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* The WC in the bathroom is affectionately known as The Best Seat in the House.  We have no neighbours, so we have no need of opaque glass and therefore enjoy unobscured views across open fields when sat upon the loo.

** We had several good bites, but none were caught.

Can you freeze celeriac?

 I know it's a bit of an odd title for a Journal entry, but I'll get to the point in a moment, or two.

I woke early and wandered in to the kitchen to make coffee. A flash of colour outside the window caught my attention and my eyes fell upon a Greater Spotted Woodpecker searching for insects on the trunk of the Birch tree.  We have several woodpeckers in and around the garden and they are always a delight to see and hear.

As I watched it searching for food, a movement on the ground distracted me and I saw another quite large bird. It took me a moment to realise that it was a juvenile Green Woodpecker here in the garden.  We often hear these shy birds calling in the surrounding fields, but it was a rare treat to see one only a few yards from the kitchen window. 

So that was how my day started, coffee and a rarely seen avian dinosaur. 

Now on to celeriac and whether it can be frozen.  Both 30% and I love this versatile vegetable hence I have twenty plants doing quite nicely out in the veg patch. They are slow to germinate and grow, but I should have a decent crop by the end of the Autumn. 

I have grown them previously and the limited information available suggested that they could be left in the ground and simply lifted, as required, over the course of the Winter.  I found out the hard way that this advice was complete bollocks, as they turned to a revolting mush after the first couple of frosts.

I was therefore interested in finding a way to effectively store this vegetable to avoid another wasted crop. Research on the internet had indicated that it could be blanched and frozen, so that is what I tried this morning.  

The celeriac bulb was peeled, cut in to 2cm cubes and added to a pan of boiling water. Once the water had returned to the boil, it was left to simmer for two and a half minutes before being drained and plunged in to iced water.  After chilling, the cubes of celeriac were patted dry with a fresh tea towel and then frozen loose on a tray. They will be bagged up tomorrow and then left for a month or two, before I thaw them out and see if it is an effective method of preservation.

The alternative is to simply lift them out of the ground, clean them off and store them in a box of peat in a cool, dry, frost free place.  My only concern is that the bloody mice will be at them before I shut the door on the store room.

The rest of the day saw me mostly out and about in the garden. I finally got the BMW hooked up to the battery optimiser and it is now neatly covered in the car port. 30% and I gave the dogs a short walk and finally got the Azure Rush Geraniums and Lemon Popsicle Kniphofia planted after they had sat patiently in pots for far too long a good while.

The big job of the afternoon was to prepare space in the garden for 30%'s recently acquired Pineapple Tree (Cytisus battandieri).  The chosen spot was a very overgrown bed to the rear of the vegetable garden up against the orchard fence.  The bed was home to a monstrous, tangled privet, a healthy crop of stinging nettles and a red currant that had last cropped when I was a child. It is fair to say that clearing the bed was a bit of a job and, by the end of the afternoon, several barrow loads of greenery had been piled in the orchard for burning at a later date.

We haven't finished the clearance yet, but we can see that we now have a bed that is about 5' x 8' and it should be perfect for the Pineapple Tree ... once I get those bloody roots out!

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* I must jot down the celeriac soup recipe I use. It is a fabulous rich creamy soup that must be good for you, it has vegetables in it.**

** Yes Bad Man, it also has six ounces of butter and half a pint of double cream too!

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!