A mildly frustrating morning

 This morning I had a plan.

I needed to go and pick up a bag of chicken food from the local feed store and decided to try to kill several birds with one stone.*  I grabbed a parcel that needed to be posted and a honey bucket that needed to be returned to Pete the beekeeper.

Smugly I mentally ticked off items on my to do list as I clambered in to the Land Rover and set off towards the village post office. Unfortunately I had messed up my astronomical, floral and faunal observations and the bloody place was closed. "No worries" I thought, as I had a vague recollection of there being a post office close to the feed store.

As I drove over to Redditch I caught sight of the post office just before I turned in to the feed store, where I learnt that they were out of growers pellets. Apparently a chap had come in on Monday and bought their entire stock.  My first thought was "bollocks", but an optimism neuron fired and I realised that, at least, I could get the damned parcel posted.

Two minutes later I was heading towards feed store #2 in Feckenham,* where I was politely informed that they only stock layers pellets. 

Arseholes! Our supplies were very low and I couldn't recall experiencing a situation like this in all the years we have kept poultry.  I grabbed my phone and gave feed store #3, over at Bromsgrove, a call. Their customer service was brilliant, as they confirmed that they had growers pellets and even went to check the stock levels.  I was delighted that I had located a supply, but then needed to drive another ten miles to collect the feed.

In all my forty minute errand took all fucking morning, I'd driven twice as far as I had planned and I failed to return Beekeeper Pete's honey bucket.

The afternoon was slightly more productive, as I managed to prepare, blanch and freeze two of the celeriac stems that I dug yesterday.

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* It's probably worth stressing that this errand should have taken forty minutes at most ... forty minutes, less than an hour, not very long at all really.

** minus the parcel

Goblin Fruit #2

 It was another soggy day and, again, I did my best to stay out of the rain and chilly wind.

I did, however, spend the best part of an hour outside harvesting five of my celeriac plants. They have grown beautifully over a Summer that can, at best, be described as cool with average rain and sunshine.

Just out of the ground

Washed and scrubbed

Trimmed, but not yet peeled

Having processed the celeriac to the point where they could be stored, I weighed them just to see how they compared to store bought examples. The largest were around 950g and the smallest of this bunch was about 650g after trimming. It seems that our celeriac is as big as those in the supermarket, but is much more fragrant.

If I am honest, after cleaning up the stems, I planned to do very little for the rest of the day. However, a modicum of motivation intruded on my laziness and I grabbed a large saucepan and the other ingredients for a batch of creamy celeriac soup. It took an hour or so to prep the veg and make the soup, but this batch will provide about ten servings and freezes beautifully.

After finishing the soup, I glanced at the three remaining celeriac stems. It looks like I will be blanching and freezing those tomorrow and, possibly, trying out a recipe for remoulade.

An indoors sort of day

The weather this morning was miserable. It was cold and there was a fine drizzle that did its best to surreptitiously soak you.

It was definitely an indoors day. After sorting out the chickens and taking the dogs for a short walk down the lane, I spent the day pottering. Bills were paid, little jobs were completed and I even took a chance on finding the village post office open*, as I needed to post a parcel.

In summary, I managed to potter through the day without having to resort to a significant quantity of daytime television. A decent siesta was taken and a variety of admin tasks and little jobs were completed.

The weather forecast for tomorrow looks similar, so I need to have a think about what might be achieved on Tuesday.

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* The village post office has opening hours that are even more complex than the timing of Easter. Apparently Easter is scheduled on the first Sunday after the Paschal full moon. Our Post Office opening appears to be dependent on an array of complex astronomical calculations combined with the presence or absence of local fauna and flora. Basically you need to recall when the Lords and Ladies are in flower, whether a hedgehog wandered through a specific garden last night and the position of Orion in the night sky .... or just chance it.**

** I'm not sure which experience is more disappointing; arriving and finding it closed or arriving and wandering in to the dismal broom cupboard that is our local post office.

It's a good job he doesn't bite!

Several weeks ago we purchased tickets for the RHS Autumn Show at the Three Counties Show Ground in Malvern.  We've been on a couple of previous occasions and enjoyed the show but two factors encouraged us to go again this year. Firstly, we have a much bigger garden and retirement has given us the time to explore the joys of having a proper garden.* Secondly, for the first time ever, the Three Counties Show society has allowed visitors to bring their dogs.**

We decided that we would only take Hobson, after taking all three dogs to the Game Fair. The Rat isn't a great fan of unfamiliar crowds and it is a long day for Whiffler, who is now in his eleventh year.

After completing our morning chores, we threw Hobson in to the back of the Defender and headed over to the Malvern show ground. We had a lovely day, but it was fair to say that Hobson was the star. He looked incredibly smart, having been groomed on Friday and, being 26" at the shoulder, he certainly drew attention wherever he went.

We had lots of people come up and ask about him and I noticed that people were reaching out to stroke the top of his head as they wandered past. As it says in the title of today's entry "it's a bloody good job he doesn't bite"! It is common sense to ask a dog owner before reaching out to stroke their animal. I've come across a few mutts that respond to a proffered hand with a growl and a lighting fast snap. Fortunately Hobson is a calm and friendly lad and he bathed in the adoration of the crowds.

He was an absolute star all day. He walked beautifully alongside us and there was no lunging to try to greet or sniff the other dogs at the show. He even behaved himself when we took a walk through the small animals display and encountered llamas, ponies, pigs and goats, although he did try to eat some pig pooh at one point. I am amazed at what a calm boy he is, considering that he is only twenty months old.

Anyway, we had a lovely day and even had a few plant and bulb bargains, as it was the last day of the show. A final thought on the day was provided by 30%; "it's a good job we didn't take Whiffler as well, we would have become an attraction rather than visitors".

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* The garden at The Pile was a reasonable size, about one fifth of an acre, but it was low maintenance; being mostly lawn, paving and a short length of laurel hedging.

** This was a "one-day only" concession on Sunday 29th September. Previously all other Three Counties events have been assistance dogs only. The realist cynic in me wonders if this was a trial to explore whether allowing dogs increases footfall and commercial revenue?

Mouse Guards and Cheesy Peas

After running around for most of Friday, with little to show for it, today was a little more productive. I'm not promising that it was exciting or interesting, but definitely more productive.

First job of the day was to check on the BMW, which is currently off the road and under covers in the carport. I replaced the moisture absorbing crystals in the damp prevention device and dug out another couple of bags of absorbent crystals from the shed. These had been sat around for years, but I could see no reason why a couple of hours in a low oven wouldn't desiccate them ... experiment started.

After sorting out the car, I headed off down the road with the dogs for a short walk, while 30% headed off to the supermarket. On my return, I pottered for a while before I gathered a spade and mattock and wandered up to the orchard.

My intention was to lay a couple of paving slabs at each end of the chicken coop. The weather will worsen over the coming months and this measure will mean that I avoid trudging through a muddy slurry at each end of the day. I didn't actually get very far with this task as 30% returned from her errands and we stopped for lunch.

In the afternoon we shifted gear and got on with shit! The slabs were laid by the coop and, while I was up in the orchard, I topped up the feeders on the hives and pinned the mouse guards* to the hive entrances. We then spent a happy hour ensuring that various drains around the property were cleared of debris. 

As the afternoon waned, I cleaned up and headed in to the kitchen. Mummy Sheila had been invited over for a bite to eat and we had decided that we would attempt Matar Paneer,** following the Asian cookery demo on Wednesday.  I used a BBC Food recipe*** and we were delighted with the outcome. It was more spicy than the recipe demo'd on Wednesday, but one could always reduce the chillies and garam masala, according to tastes.

The dish was eaten with garlic naan, poppadoms, pickles and minted yoghurt and was lovely ... another vegetarian triumph!

Sheila departed shortly before nine and we spent the remainder of the evening slumped on the sofa.

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* It is claimed that, if you can fit a pencil through a hole or crack, a mouse will be able to get through it. The little sods have a tendency to creep in to hives over the Winter months and cause chaos eating the comb and honey. Hence perforated metal mouse guards are pinned over the hive entrance. The bees are still able to come and go, but mice are excluded.

** I loved the Fast Show and it amuses me that Matar Paneer is cheesy peas.

** Note: BBC Food, not BBC Good Food

Busy doing nothing

 Well, as today closes, I look back and surmise that I seemed to have been on the go for most of the day, but I'm not sure that I achieved much.

Shortly after breakfast I encouraged Whiffler and Hobson in to the back of the Defender and headed over to Stratford upon Avon.  They were booked in for a bath and clip. As I drove in to this delightful* little Warwickshire town all seemed well and then everything seemed to come to a stop. At this point I should advise that this was ten c'clock in the morning, and therefore not an understandable rush hour jam.

I eventually made my way across town and dropped off the dogs. A mental note was made to leave home in plenty of time to collect them, or, preferably, abdicate from this duty and remind 30% of this point.

I stopped off at the supermarket on the way out of Stratford and picked up the key ingredient for the Matar Paneer and also added a key ingredient to the Defender; diesel.  I then headed across to Bromsgrove for a dental checkup. 

These two activities had consumed the entire morning and, by the time I had lunched and taken care of a few odd jobs, it was time to head back out to collect the dogs.

Another hour was spent in the car, and the time spent in traffic jams was used wisely; making changes to the play list on my phone.

As I close out this Journal entry I will point out that I spent at least three hours driving today and covered over 75 miles on country roads. My wallet is somewhat lighter having filled up the Defender and made my Dentist slightly richer. The dogs also look beautiful, but I'm not sure any of this counts as an achievement.

It's probably time for another list.

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* It has its good points, but I'm not a massive fan, particularly of its traffic system. Like Evesham, the entire town will grind to a halt as a result of a dog taking a shit on the High Street.

Running out of steam

I'm not sure whether it is the change of the seasons, an underlying bug, or just a couple of days of rain, but both 30% and I have felt somewhat lacking in energy and enthusiasm today.

Her ladyship headed out to the supermarket this morning and then on to volunteer at a local support group for people with memory and cognition issues.

I was home alone and, despite the morning sunshine, it took conscious effort to do anything other than unavoidable tasks.* Having kicked my own arse sufficiently, I grabbed a wheelbarrow, loaded it with beekeeping kit and headed up to the orchard to take a quick look at the colonies.

Pete the beekeeper had suggested that I put the colonies in a double brood box configuration to encourage them to draw foundation in to fresh comb. However, cooler weather had been forecast and I didn't want to leave new colonies in a hive like a cathedral and expect them to keep it warm and build fresh comb.

Apologies for this if it is getting a little technical on the beekeeping front, but it is useful for me to keep a few notes on how the colonies are progressing. In brief, they both have plenty of capped brood, but the cool weather meant that I kept inspection time brief.** I resisted the temptation to keep the frames out of the hive for too long, checking for larvae and eggs. Hopefully we will get a warmer spell for the next inspection and I can take a better look then.

30% returned in the late afternoon and we agreed that a lazy afternoon was in order. I think my most significant achievement was skinning a few tomatoes and making passata, as this will be needed for the Matar Paneer that I plan to make over the weekend.

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* The feeding and watering of chickens and letting the dogs out for a pee

** If brood are chilled during an inspection it can kill them.

Matar Paneer

 This morning I was awarded an extremely temporary membership of the local Women's Institute. In other words I was invited out with 30%, Mummy Sheila and The Wordle Witch.

Our destination was a Farm Shop out on the Stourbridge road and the event was an Indian cookery demonstration arranged by the local WI Federation.  It doesn't take a genius to guess that I stuck out like a sore thumb, as I was the only man* in a group of fifty middle aged to elderly women; many of whom seemed to have a slightly confused look about them.

The demonstration was excellent. Our hostess was originally from Northern India and gave us an hour long talk about Indian cuisine and spices while demonstrating how to cook Matar Paneer; Paneer cheese and peas in a spicy tomato sauce.  It was great fun and the dish tasted superb. 

After my recent success with runner bean curry, I'm tempted to have a go at Matar Paneer over the coming weekend.

The morning of cookery seemed to have kindled my culinary spark,** and a wet afternoon and a glut of tomatoes further encourage me to head in to the kitchen.  My output wasn't particularly exciting, it was another batch of cream of tomato soup that will be frozen for consumption over the coming months.

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* This slightly puzzled me. The Coven made it clear that anyone was welcome, provided they paid the fee, and I'm quite happy in the company of a group of women. I don't really understand why there weren't any other men there. After all, there are plenty of male cooks?

** Clearly not much of a spark.

Harmony and Balance

I'd planned to inspect the hives today and got as far as locating various items of beekeeping paraphernalia.* Unfortunately that was as far as I got. The weather cooled and a significant hypoglycaemic event put paid to my plan.

I did, however, manage to clarify and bottle the last of the honey and I now have 30 lb, 8 oz ready for sale ... I just need the punters to turn up now.

In other news, I finally managed to make contact with my Dentist. I have an appointment scheduled for Wednesday morning and my better half pointed out that we were due to attend an Asian cookery demonstration. Consequently I phoned and left messages on Monday requesting a re-schedule. I heard nothing until this morning when the Receptionist called to remind me of tomorrow's session. 

I advised that I was not able to attend and pointed out that I had left a message yesterday.  The Receptionist advised that she hadn't listened to the messages.  I was somewhat annoyed at this, especially considering that the Dentist's answerphone clearly asks you to leave a message, and goes as far as to tell you that you can re-record your message if you fuck up the first attempt!

I was somewhat miffed, but the Receptionist kindly offered me an appointment late on Friday morning.  I gladly accepted, well aware that the dogs needed to be taken to the Groomer, but conscious that I had sufficient time to drive from Stratford to Bromsgrove and be there on time.

I recounted this good fortune to 30% and saw a look on her face. It appears that I had totally forgotten that she had promised to take me to lunch at the new Greek restaurant in Stratford on Friday.

Trying to take an optimistic approach, I pointed out that her annoyance about not being able to make the lunch was probably broadly equivalent to my annoyance about the Dentist's Receptionist not listening to their messages.

This, I sagely advised, was an example of the maintenance of cosmic balance and harmony ... then I ducked.

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* A couple of brood boxes, several dummy boards and a couple of frames of foundation ... it's a completely different language!

The Black Cow of Doom

 It was another rainy day and I did my best to stay indoors.

I can't say that I kept myself busy, but I wasn't completely idle, and I got another ten pounds of honey clarified and bottled.  I'll be glad when this task is finished; as the effort to extract crystallised honey from a 30lb tub is doing my tennis elbow no good at all!

That's about it for Monday. I sorted some honey, fed and watered chickens and picked a few tomatoes, not the most productive of days.  

So instead I'll recount a little of the Black Cow of Doom; one of the panoply of mystical beasts and beings that inhabit my imagination.

Back in 2010 we spent a week up on the Lleyn peninsula in Wales with the dogs. We had a super time and, whilst driving, I regularly saw the road sign warning of cattle.  I took this to be a dreaded portent, and the legend of the Black Cow of Doom was born.  From that point forward, whenever the warning sign is seen, her name is called with awe and reverence and a ritual gesture is performed to ward off ill spirits.*

Let's jump forward to the beginning of last week; 30% and I were sat up in bed enjoying a cup of coffee.  As we looked out of the bedroom window a black cow appeared in the field across the lane. It mooed and the grandfather clock struck eight o'clock. If ever there was a portent that had PORTENT spray painted across it in luminous green.  I referenced the dark coloured bovine of terrible fates and we performed the appropriate gesture.

Now, I need to state quite clearly that I don't believe any of this nonsense. It is just stuff that amuses me and it was a complete coincidence that we saw the Black Cow of Doom the same day we had a family bereavement.

Oops!

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* I also give 30% a gentle punch whenever we see a yellow car, but that is completely different.

Goblin Fruit

Autumn has definitely arrived. A steady rain greeted me as I headed out to tend to the chickens and a hat and coat were grabbed to keep off the worst of it. The rain was forecast to linger for the next couple of days, so I needed an indoor activity to keep me busy.

I spent the morning pottering and sorting out another batch of honey. There is a lot of waiting while the set honey liquifies and it seems that I spent this time drinking coffee.

With another four and a half pounds of honey bottled, my thoughts turned to the afternoon's entertainment. We had a few leeks and some celery lingering in the bottom of the fridge and my eye had been caught by a couple good sized celeriac in the veg patch.  Hat and coat were deployed again and I wandered out with a fork.* 

Homegrown Celeriac

They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, although most might say that celeriac is the goblin of the veg patch. The creamy white bulb is about six inches across and its fine network of roots bring a up a huge clump of earth when they are hauled from the ground.  After shaking off a few pounds of soil and trimming off the fine roots, one is left with a muddy, distorted bulb that is entwined with coarse grasping roots.*** 

It is a multi-stage process to prep the damned things.  First, most of the soil is washed off in one of the water tanks in the garden. Then the larger roots are cut away. The various creases, crevices and nodules are packed with earth and much trimming, scrubbing and washing is needed before one is able to peel away the outer skin and reveal the creamy white flesh.

They may be goblin fruit but they are worth the effort to grow and prepare. They have so much more flavour than the prewashed examples available in the supermarket.

After prepping the celeriac, each hypocotyl weighed about 750 g and were used to make up a double batch of James Martin's creamy celeriac soup. We now have five litres of this beautiful soup bagged and stored in the freezer.

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* Garden implement rather than cutlery. I'd look a complete chump trying to dig up an hypocotyl** with a piece of kitchenware. Context!

** Most seem to refer to celeriac as a root vegetable, but it is actually a swollen stem just above where the roots form ... the hypocotyl.

*** I'll take some photos next time I dig one up. They really are an odd looking thing.

2nd October '24: I have literally travelled back in time to add a photo to this Journal entry.

Open for business ... again

 My little road-side honey stall does a surprising amount of trade considering that we live on a lane that has more pedestrian and equestrian than vehicular traffic.

I won't be so crass as to give revenue and turnover figures, but, in a little over four months, I have sold about sixty pounds of honey.  That's not bad considering that, once it has been bottled and labelled, the effort involved is minimal other than collecting the cash and keeping the little stall stocked.

There are times when I consider the effort of harvesting honey from the hives and wonder if being a reseller is the way forward.*

Anyway, to the point of today's entry, Pete the beekeeper dropped off a thirty pound tub of honey yesterday and today my main achievement was that I managed to clarify, bottle and label about one third of it.

I resupplied my little stall and we are open for business ...again.

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* Then I wander up to the colonies for an inspection and realise that I have an interest that has moments that are truly zen. Who wouldn't want that!

That's eight of your "five a day"

The title of today's entry comes from a conversation shared during dinner ...

The veg patch and greenhouses are bountiful and I am concerned that it may well be possible to eat too many vegetables. Last night's supper included beans, cabbage and carrots and pounds of tomatoes are arriving in the kitchen every day. Allegedly this evening's meal of liver, bacon and onion gravy included eight portions of vegetables!

I'm not certain of the veracity of this statement, but I'm giving myself an A+ for gut health at the moment!

Right, this Journal entry is a little jumbled, but I'll now have a go at pulling it in to some semblance of order. 

30% and the dogs headed off for a morning walk shortly after breakfast and I wandered in to the kitchen.  There is a large bowl sat on the worktop, filled to the brim with tomatoes of various sizes, shapes and colours.  This morning I planned to reduce this glut somewhat and set to preparing the ingredients for another batch of tomato soup.

An hour or so, later I had used over two kilos of toms and produced about four litres of soup. The worrying this is that I had used barely half of the tomatoes and I'll be picking more tomorrow.

In the early afternoon Beekeeper Pete turned up at the back door with a thirty pound tub of honey.  He had noticed that my little roadside stall had been taken in, and realised that I must have run out of stock. It looks like the next few days will be spent clarifying and bottling this batch, and my little side hustle will be back in operation.

In the late afternoon 30% drove me over to Droitwich for an appointment with the Ophthalmologist. I have become more than a little worried about my eyesight over the past couple of days; as I have started to experience some pain, cloudiness and sensitivity to bright light. These are all symptoms of glaucoma and my hypochondria had kicked in.  It was fortunate that I had a scheduled appointment today.

I was given a thorough, and painful, check-up and do not have glaucoma, but I do have a problem with the ducts that drain the area between the cornea and iris. Apparently I will be booked in for laser treatment in the very near future to alleviate the condition.

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* Don't Ask.

Tree Ferns & Poultry

This morning it was decided that we would pop over to Rowberry's Nursery for a look around before heading over to Morrison's in Bromsgrove to collect a duvet from the dry cleaner. 

There is an interesting annoying back story to the dry cleaning of the duvet involving the changing of bed linen, roast lamb for Sunday dinner, a bone, a dog and the integration of the latter two elements.  I'll leave it to the casual reader to construct a narrative that pulls all of these together.

Anyway, we headed over to the Nursery and had a pleasant time wandering amongst the plants. Our attention was drawn to the fabulous Tree Ferns in the greenhouses and we got a little envious. We do have a little tree fern. 30% purchased it a couple of months ago from B&Q. It's not very big, standing about 40cm high with a spread of about the same amount. The smallest examples in Rowberrys were about 1m high and close to 1.5m across.  We peered at the price, expecting it to be eye watering, and found it to be only £20 more than the specimen from B&Q.

In an instant the decision was made that our little tree fern was obviously lonely and would grow far better in the company of one of these magnificent examples.  As I type this, it is sitting in a bath of water under our variegated Maple giving its roots a damned good soak.

In the afternoon we finally go the chicks sorted. The oldest birds* were moved in to their permanent home in the orchard and the youngest birds were relocated to larger brooder in the store room. It will only be a few more weeks before the older of the Crested Cream Legbars can be introduced to the Marans and Norfolk Greys. 

As for the remaining chicks, 30% has advertised them for sale. Anyone want to buy a chicken or two?

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* Three Cuckoo Marans and  five Norfolk Grey pullets 

Unexpected visitor

30% had planned to spend much of the day with Jules and they headed off in the general direction of Stratford at around ten this morning.

Home alone, I headed in to the kitchen, assembled ingredients and equipment and spent the remainder of the morning cooking up another batch of tomato soup. The tomatoes in the greenhouse are finally ripening and we have a fantastic crop of Alicante. The fruits are almost as big as dessert apples and it's great to be able to produce your own food.  The soup will be bagged and frozen and be a delicious lunch at some point in the coming months.

As I was finishing up the soup, the dogs started barking and that usually means we have a visitor. I wandered out of the front door and saw a young chap walking down the drive towards the house.  It took a moment or two before I realised that it was my half-brother. I hadn't seen him for probably twelve years and you know how it is when you see someone out of context.

After that hesitant start we shared a hug and spent the next couple of hours catching up. Our recent bereavement was the instigation for his visit and, obviously, much of the discussion was focussed around recent events.  The visit wasn't awful, but I am not close to my family and have had minimal contact with any of them, other than brief encounters at family funerals. Consequently the conversation was somewhat stilted at times as it is difficult to know which topics of conversation are off limits. We both did our best and it was a pleasant enough experience. It was decent of him to take the initiative and call in for a catch-up. 

I suppose the big question is; will this visit bring about a change in our relationship? I think probably not. We have drifted apart over the years and in that time we have all developed our own friendship groups, relationships, lifestyles and interests. A dozen years is a lot of drifting and I'm not sure that a little bit of shared DNA is enough to rebuild relations.

The visit was certainly a disturbance in the force and left me a little slightly unsettled.  I suppose I am going to have more of this over the coming few weeks.

In other news I shortened the two section of trellis that we purchased yesterday and spent a happy hour getting them fixed to the side of Rose Cottage.  30% was delighted by the result, but thinks we should add another couple to the old shed.

Mostly Poultry

My priority over the past few days has been to rationalise our poultry situation.

At present we had three groups of chicks. The oldest are seven and a half weeks old and the youngest hatched exactly four weeks ago.  Caring for young chicks is the proverbial pain in the backside. They need to be kept under heat until they are about six weeks old and they have an incredible ability to contaminate their food and water supples with their own excrement. Each of the brooders needs to be checked at least three times a day and their food and water supplies need to be either refreshed or, more usually, cleaned out. They are also incredibly excitable. The slightest disturbance will result in flapping, squawking and birds leaping in the air in a chaotic fashion!

After eight weeks this is becoming tiresome and I still have another couple of weeks to go, but, fortunately, the oldest hatchlings are now ready to be moved to the coop in the orchard. They will have much more room and, hopefully, will be less inclined to shit in their food and water.

My plan is to get the oldest birds up to the coop by the end of the week and my attention has been focussed on this. The coop was sited and assembled yesterday and today I worked on the finishing touches; making stands to lift the feeders and drinkers clear of their bedding and a temporary mesh door* for the coop.  Access to the nest boxes was also blocked. This is an attempt to stop the birds becoming accustomed to roosting in them. Once they form this habit, it is virtually impossible to break and can result in eggs being broken.

In other news, 30% and I popped over to a reclamation yard on the other side of Bromsgrove to pick up some incredibly cheap trellis. This is to be installed on the outside of Rose Cottage for the climbing rose and honeysuckle to grow up.

I also checked on the bees' syrup feeders and topped them up. The colonies seem to be taking down a litre of syrup each day, which is an encouraging sign that they are settling in to the hives and building up stores in advance of the Winter.

The last bit of new was that Bobbyn came over for an evening walk with the dogs. It was a beautiful evening and the sun was setting as we arrived back at home. Bobbyn commented that it won't be long before we need to take our head torches to light our path.

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* The birds will be confined to the coop for a week, or so. This is to get them to imprint on their new home before they are given access to the run.  If they are not imprinted they can be reluctant to roost in the coop as dusk approaches.  This can result in yours truly having to scrabble around on hands and knees in the run catching the little sods and shoving them back in to the coup each evening ... This is not an item on my bucket list.

Mr Benn

This morning started with me roughing out a plot line for a brand new episode of the 1970's children's TV favourite Mr Benn.

Mr Benn's role is now taken on by our youngest dog Hobson. He leaves his residence in Festive Road and sets out for the day. As he walks past the costume shop, his eye is caught by Guide Dog's high viz harness and his interest is piqued.  He enters the shop and "as if by magic the shopkeeper appeared". Hobson tries on the harness in the changing room and exits by the secret door. A fantastic adventure follows where he is a guide dog for an elderly lady and takes her to a betting shop, a drug den and eventually ends up in a brothel, where she is very popular.  At this point 30% advised that this was a little dark and not appropriate for the intended audience.

Oh well, back to the drawing board.

Today was another busy day.  The morning was spent repotting the Monstera and I almost did myself a mischief getting it back up the stairs* to the bathroom.

In the afternoon I checked on the bees and can report that both colonies are doing well. I have still have not managed to see the second queen, but it is apparent that she is laying as she has produced significant quantities of brood. Both colonies are taking in large quantities of syrup and the frames of foundation are gradually being transformed into fresh comb and stores.  We have a fine week ahead** and I need to keep the feeders topped up with syrup.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent siting and assembling the chicken coop. This turned out to be a bit of a mission. The site needed to be levelled and the run needed to be attached to the coop. Although it is beautifully made, it was a pig of a job and the air was blue with a stream of colourful invective as assembly lurched forward.

Top marks go to 30% for restraint and patience while assisting me in this job.

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* The stairs in the cottage are known affectionately as The Ladder. There are only nine of them but they are very steep, very narrow and have a 90° turn half way up.  Going up is relatively straightforward, but coming down is a piece of performance art!

** Feeding a young colony is critical to its success.  The young bees need the syrup to produce beeswax.  Wax creation is temperature dependent, so the warmer the weather, the more likely the bees are to produce wax and build comb.  The more comb they build, the more syrup can be stored and converted to Winter stores. The more comb they build, the more cells are available for the queen to lay in. 

Day of rest

Today was a lazy day.

I had planned to inspect the hives, but didn't pay enough attention to the weather forecast.  The morning sunshine didn't last and the afternoon was cloudy and cool. Basically I missed the warm sunny weather and the inspections were deferred until tomorrow.

I did finish removing the slabs from the overgrown path in the orchard and I did take a few Dianthus cuttings from a rather attractive Pink that has provided flowers and scent on the patio over the Summer. 

I also attended to a large hexagonal planter that 30% has earmarked for the Monstera that lives in the bathroom.  The pot needed to have small feet attached to prevent damage to the tile flooring, so I got creative with silicone and some plastic thingumajigs that I found in the workshop. I think it will work really well, but we'll see tomorrow when the Monstera gets repotted.

That just about sums up my Sunday, although I can report that the last of the beetroot were roasted and served with this evening's roast lamb.  They were OK, but hardly a taste sensation.  They definitely need the tang of pickling vinegar or the additional flavourings of a chutney recipe to give them a boost.

Knackered

We were breakfasted and out of the house shortly after nine o'clock this morning. If I knew how the day was going to pan out, I would have taken a more leisurely start to the day.

Our first mission was a trip into Worcester to pick up a new hedge trimmer.* I have bit the bullet and gone for a battery powered model. With approximately 300 yards of hedging, the garden is certainly going to be an arduous test for this new piece of kit.  

After collecting the trimmer, we headed across the road and spent a happy hour in the supermarket picking up a few staples. Having done that we decided that the planned trip to Golls Nursery could be deferred and headed straight home.

After unpacking the car and putting the trimmer battery on charge, it was lunchtime. 30% had heated a batch of celeriac soup from the freezer and it was beautiful. I kid myself that it is healthy because of all the vegetables in it, but this perspective necessitates ignoring the significant quantity of butter and double cream added.

Lunch was followed by a way too short snooze, before I headed out to the garden and cut the remaining lawns; the front lawn, around the greenhouses, around the garage and the verges at the front of the house. 

I had certainly got my steps in this afternoon, but 30% was in the mood for a short walk, so we took a twenty minute amble down the lane before turning and heading home.

As 30% headed in to the kitchen to think about dinner, I grabbed a sack truck and spade and headed up to the orchard. 

We will shortly be having French drains installed in an attempt to better handle the run-off of rain from the field upslope of the cottage.  The orchard has an old paved path along the course of the new drain and this is likely to get destroyed during the excavations. I thought it best if I lifted the paving slabs and stacked them out of the way, rather than have to pick up fragments of slab at a later date.

I had lifted and stacked twenty of the slabs before exhaustion set in, and I wandered back to the house and slumped on the sofa. Both of us were exhausted and did little other than eat this evening. We were in bed by nine o'clock and snoring not long after

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* I have a petrol powered, long reach hedge trimmer which is a must for the upper portions** of the hedges, but it is heavy and awkward for the lower sections. I am hoping the new battery powered trimmer makes the lower sections less effort.

** Some of these require a step ladder, even with a long reach hedge trimmer.

The Tricky Pooh

 Friday the 13th, unlucky for some, especially if you are Dog #4 AKA The Rat.

It is strange how a single event can set the course for the day, and that is exactly what happened today. 

For a couple of weeks 30% has been nagging encouraging me to give The Rat a haircut. She does not enjoy going to the dog grooming salon, so it falls to me to keep her coat reasonably neat and tidy. I must admit that I have neglected my duties recently and she currently peers from beneath a large mop of red hair. The reason for the neglect is not pure laziness. My eyes have been very sore recently and I really didn't want to be clipping a dog. The task produces a vast quantity of hair and it get's everywhere ... including my eyes.

Anyway, back to the story. I was woken early this morning by The Rat. She wanted to be let out for a pee, so I climbed from my bed, wandered downstairs and let her out of the front door.  As she capered around the garden, I headed to the kitchen and made coffee. While the kettle boiled The Rat caught my attention. She was pacing to and fro on the lawn, circling and performing a strange little dance. 

I realised that this was a canine pre-pooh ritual and was about to wander away when I noticed that she was having a tricky pooh and ended up with, shall we say, a rather messy rear end. Her coat was definitely in need of a clip and that became my job for day.

The Rat is something of a drama queen and has a tendency to squeal at the slightest nudge. This a nervous reaction rather than a pain response, but it dictates how she is clipped. A trip to the groomers will put her on edge and having strange people attempt to manhandle her results in a very upset dog. As a result I clip her at home in an environment she knows. I also clip her at a gentle pace with plenty of breaks for biscuit treats* and play.

By lunchtime I had done her head and body and she was running around looking like she had just tried on a set of Ugg boots.**

The afternoon session focussed on her legs and feet and I can report that I now have a dog that can be walked in public, without fear of ridicule.***

I'm bloody freezing!

After an afternoon snooze that is exactly what we did. 30% and I took a wander down the lane, as far as the little bridge, before we returned home.

That pretty much sums up my day, although I did experience a surge of motivation in early evening and got the back lawn mowed before dinner.

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* She was not impressed by the soggy custard cream I offered at break no. 1

** A set of four, obviously!

*** A further session will be required to tidy up her feet, but that can wait for a day, or two, or three ...