Blog of War

If you have time do visit http://the-blacklog.blogspot.com/ for information about the Blog of War. Blog on Blog Action, all very near the knuckle! I'm not entering as I am a pacifist, but am happy to support Mr Black in his endeavours to set up the competition!

finding time

A friend commented today that she doesn't know where I find the time to blog, and use Facebook. Well, I'll tell you! My clothes go unironed, the dust lays thick and grey, and the cobwebs hang from my ceilings. (Among many other housekeeping shortcomings). However, I am happy and content in my dusty, creased and cobweb infested world, so what's to change? Pity the poor farmer though!

Trying to incubate a small new business which is stealing even more time now. The poor yellow horse is giving up contact time for that. Which reminds me, the horse dentist came today (dear gods the expense just goes on, and on). He found lots of hooky bits on the back teeth, which are now all rasped smooth and comfortable for another year. A half hour's personal dental attention and travel for £25. Better value by far than my dentist. Next time I shall be baring my own teeth for his inspection and treatment - well its tempting....

Time though. Tricky stuff. Passing quickly, and slowly, dragging and flying. Couldn't we all do with just a bit more?

Varsity Rowing Challenge

The farmer and I drove 100 miles this morning - in a bid to see the Baby boy compete in the annual Leicester Universities Varsity Rowing Challenge. It was an absolutely glorious morning. We were only a little late, and arrived just in time to see the boy's first race - coxed 4s. His rowing team rowed very strongly, indeed they pulled about 4 lengths ahead at the finish, and they won. He was very pleased. He consumed two bananas in quick succession (miracle food) and prepared himself for his second race just an hour later. Coxed 8s. We had time to ask a team-mate about the dispersal of the 8 team members in the boat. It was noticeable that the middle placed 4 were the great big muscle bound monsters, and the two young men at either end were of more delicate proportions. Gorillas in the middle - he commented laconically. Also described as brawn not brain in the centre, brain not brawn at extremities. The Gorillas were the coxed 4 team, no brains needed in the smaller boat obviously. No counting the cox in either team!


The 8s went on to win fairly conclusively too, and the entire team leapt from their craft delightedly.

The farmer and I had no idea the sport was so 'complicated' just getting those long, long boats in and out of the water, and bringing them in to park was quite tricky. All very impressive. We were requested to support the University in pressing the baby boy to drop Rugby completely in favour of the rowing. He's not committing! We also met that rather fetching garment the ONESY for the first time. A sexy piece of fashion in the best possible taste, and an absolute must for the up and coming rower. I won't be ordering one any time soon!

Well done 8 young men, and the cox, of course. I am basking in parental pride.

cocky - your time is nearly up.....

Cocky, the farm rooster, has been pushing his luck somewhat. 6ft2inch brother in law was shaken (not stirred) when Cocky took a dislike to his appearance in the yard and tried to see him off in manner of a guard dog. After the laughter died down the rooster received his first warning. Any more of that and its into the pot with you. This seems to have fallen on deaf ears. The farmer was to been seen this very morning collecting the newspaper from the garden gate clutching a yellow plastic spade with which to fend off aforesaid rooster, and I had to pick up a stick to poke the wretched bird away from the horse physio this afternoon. Therefore, I think that counts as a third and final warning. Sadly, neither the farmer nor I have the courage to actually do the necessary, so we await the return of the Big Boy from Bonnie Scotland. He'll do it. Probably. It will leave us cockerel free - but that will be a happy alternative if we have to endure many more days of apologising for the disgraceful behaviour of the current incumbent of 'top bird' in the farmyard!

The wrinkly old hand is mine (didn't that photograph badly!) and almost shows the swelling and bruising of the dislocated finger. If only it could show you the pain!!!

karma

I was doing something very bad on someone else's land late this afternoon,whilst the farmer looked on crossly. I can't say what it was! However, in my haste to depart the scene of the crime I fell over my own feet and hit the ground with a resounding crash, flat on my face. I was immediately assailed by the pain of a badly sprained ankle. As I tried to get up on the very sore ankle I also noticed that my ring finger was hanging down across my middle finger in a very scary, detached, and dislocated, kind of manner! I have no idea what made me do it, but I pushed the finger back towards the upright, and hey presto it seemed to click back into place! The joint is swollen and tender, but moving fine. Back to the scene of the crime. I hobbled back to ther car, crying about breaking my finger and ankle only to be overcome by faintness for the rest of the journey home. The farmer is quite sure it is a judgement on me, and is showing no sympathy whatsoever for my hobbling lameness and home strapped finger! I have a new plan to more successfully achieve my aim, and my Dad is going to help me so that the farmer can distance himself from my wickedness!

Its been rush, rush, rush all week as the dogs have had to be taken to and fro for their lovemaking! 50% success so far, the black girl proving somewhat coy with her favours. Tonight the black girl is going to spend the entire night with the fur ball loverboy. If he doesn't succeed after the mood lighting, soft music and sweet nothings she will be coming home as virginally intact as she left!

Hopefully the brown dog will produce a small litter of cockerpoos (yes really) on or around 20th May. Fingers crossed. Should be neat, small dogs with curly coats and affectionate natures.

Poor horse has been at the very back of the queue for attention this week, so has been concentrating on his eating and resting skills. All vital.

My shower room is making very slow progress, and has half a floor and a shower trap set in the concrete so far. The dust is an inch thick and very disheartening, but hoping the end of the week to come will bring a bit more progress.

During the week ahead we hope to go and watch the youngest rowing in the coxed 4's and the coxed 8's in a Varsity Challenge. We are not permitted to draw undue attention to our presence by any action as unseemly as shouting or cheering. We shall see about that! No photos this week, its all been too chaotic!

giant felling photos

The giant apple tree, the naked wet room and the abandoned facilities on their way to be smashed up. Progress.

felling a giant

Will take my camera out tomorrow. The farmer has felled an ENORMOUS old apple tree with a trunk diameter of about 1 metre. Extremely sad, indeed tragic, to cut down such a giant. It upset the farmer so much he was heard to remark that he couldn't do it for a living, he felt like a murderer. Nevertheless, it was totally blocking our cottage garden, and placed right where an extension is going. It will provide applewood fire logs for many years to come and give the farmer gainful employment for the forseeable future whilst he saws it up and stacks the wood away.I have planted two more apple trees as compensation. Of course, at such a size some of the boughs were rotten, (though less than you would think) and the lichen is about a centimetre in depth. A complete microcosm of critters are now baling out and looking for new homes. Plenty more trees to go at.

The builders have moved into the farmhouse at last, and today saw the last of the ground floor shower room disappear out of the back door. The reverse of the elderly shower cabinet had been inscribed by the fitter 'Ron Portus 1969'. So, its given good service and should probably have gone into a museum!. A tiled wet room will replace the terrible old shower room, and I can't wait.

I have also asked a young man to come and give me a price to turn the farmer's Egg Shed into a studio/granny flat. So many plans, so little time!

Both the dogs (bitches) are now in season, and are lined up for the 'Stickney furball' aka a pedigree miniature poodle. If they are willing. They are so crabby I think they might eat him instead of making out with him. I don't envy him when he tries his luck with them both this week. Fingers crossed.

Will post some photos of all this progress in next day or two.

spurned at Spurn Head

The farmer and I have experienced s 'difficult' day. It began well. That translates as 'breakfast was straightforward'. A dinner dance which we should have been attending this evening was cancelled at the last minute, leaving us with an unexpectedly quiet weekend ahead. I went to fetch the yellow horse to take him for a spin after the uneventful breakfast. He had a shoe half off. The farmer managed to remove the offending article, but the horse had to go back into the field as he's pretty useless with three wheels. The morning now loomed, completely empty of scheduled tasks. I asked the farmer if we could have a run out to see Spurn Point. It has been recommended as a day out over and over again, so perhaps this weekend I would be lucky enough to see it. Its approximately 100 miles from here, so quite a long round trip. We packed the dogs into the back of the car and set off. Indeed, we had quite a comfortable journey. On arrival at the access point to the long and lonely promentory that is Spurn point we noticed a small man clutching tickets and waving at the car to pull over. He said '£3 please'. I asked what for. I was advised that it was £3 to drive down the road, but free to walk. He also pointed out that we had a dog. I said 'In fact, we have two dogs'. He cheerily advised that dogs were not permitted. The farmer now joined the fray and said that we would be leaving the dogs in the car. Still not permitted. I reclaimed the £3 and gave the guy his ticket back, and we left with our shameful dogs still in the car. By now I was pretty hungry and thirsty. 100 miles, an argument and a quick pee stop for the girls had not brought much in the way of sustenance. We chose the next pub on the roadside which happened to be offering two meals for £7. It was locked up tight. Never mind, there's an attractive visitor centre at the Humber Bridge and a Nature Reserve where the dogs can have a really exciting walk. We arrived at 3.35pm. The cafe closed at 3.30pm. The poor dogs got a very quick spin, and we motored home at some speed for a cup of tea. We thought it might be nice to go into our village for a fish and chip supper, to make up for the missed lunch. The railway line which crosses our access to the village was closed. We had to park and walk a mile just to get our supper! How we laughed. Not. What a day of disappointments. So hoping that tomorrow is an improvement!

Photographs of girls in their new basket, the mess they make with their food and Sunk Island. Some of my ancestors were born in this auspiciously named settlement. And we passed it today as we beat our retreat from Spurn Head.