Is it really that long since I did this?

Thing is, th'Limpits was actually quite good, especially the bit where we won stuff, but on a serious note, Seb Coe? Boris Johnson - what the freaking hell does he take to get like that and THAT hair, he must have got it from some obscure DIY shop, you know the sort, they sell individual nails and screws and they put things in brown paper bags still. 

BUT, the best moment was Gideon getting the bird from 80,000 in th'Limpit stadium - whose dumb idea was that, "Yes George, good PR, go to th'Limpits and stand out in the open with a gold trinket. That'll sort out all the problems and send us flying high in th'Pinion Polls." And one last thing before th'Limpits gets to Rio (what will they do with the kids on the streets this time?) if Cammo claims the Volunteers as an example of the Big Society one more time, I shall... Well, I shall! 

See, the thing is, people have "volunteered" to help others since time immemorial. From doing a bit of shopping for a sick or elderly, or both, neighbour to helping out on the school PTA to collecting jumble for some obscure cause you believe in or, wait for it, some needy political party that is struggling for support. Here is a Party Political Broadcast on behalf of the Lickle People Party (that's the Lib-Dems to you, 'cos at the next election that's what they'll be, Lickle... And if they actually call themselves The Lickle People Party they might just get a few sympathy votes.)

Since I was last here I have picked up two more gardens and have a very healthy full few weeks up 'til the end of October, which is good, as I have missed so many days over the summer - what summer? - don't think I've been so wet so frequently. Wetter than a wet thing that's been swimming, forgot their towel and then walked in the rain without a coat or umbrella-ella-ella-ella...

Anyhoo - why do I say that? Anyhoo, here be some pictures from the last six weeks or so:

Our own garden, looking  a tad unloved...

...bit of hedge trimming at home, busman's hols!!!

Some of the trees at Rebecca's in Quainton

Occasional work in Hudnall, just outside Berkhamsted - this
and next two shots

The new "big" house. This place is a beauty, about a mile from home and has so much grass and so many hedges they have one bloke to do the grass, one to do the hedges and me, to do the rest...

I actually trimmed this hedge, the longest single hedge I think
I've ever done. About 80 metres long - that pen houses the
pig, no not Boris or Osbourne, The Pig, see below...

I trained this clematis in the Spring - and it did what it was told

Tom & Vicky's place in Aldbury. I'm going to get rid of most of the gravel and enlarge the lawn area. Lawd knows when, but hopefully before the end of Autumn

A long bed at the new "big" house. Before...

The Pig...

A long bed at the new "big" house. After

New lawn needed methinks. Quainton again

The new "big" house.. Awright for some eh?

Me new bezzie. She's very old and very blind, bless...

So, there you have it, apologies for so many new pix, but I have been most neglectful during these past few weeks and felt the need to catch up.

Oh yeah, Th'Aralimpits, what an inspiration; what a cornucopia of togetherness; what a delight to see Ellie Simmond's smile again. Blind football? Wheelchair rugby? Archery without arms? You couldn't make it up...

Happy whatever!

Si-Botic

OK, so Th'limpits have started... Don't Panic!!!

Dear friends, Th'limpits are here, apparently they sneaked in under the radar yesterday afternoon with women playing football. Yes! You heard me correctly, women-playing-football. Back in my day such a thing would have been so frowned upon as to be akin to Sepp Blatter and the like accepting a bribe to stage the 2018 World Cup in Russia instead of dear old Hing-gerland - which would never happen! Also, the aforementioned gent would never suggest that women's football should attempt to become more popular by letting... "the women play in more feminine clothes like they do in volleyball. They could, for example, have tighter shorts." He would never say that.

Anyhoo, here are some more pictures of arrivals at The Stadia of Boyle: 

This is Camo-Daft Vadar, a shot putter of
some esteem from a little known country
called The Cockswolds 

Here we have the slightly reduced team of fencers from Titlandia.
Davo-Becko, Sebbo Collo and Eric Pickles are exceptional
at putting up a nice split-rail fence in no time. Indeed, any kind of 
fence, including, featherboard, palisade, jaktop or even a nice bit
of tongue and groove (Eric's speciality). A real prospect for gold...

Kellith de Holmo, seen here carrying Granto Shappo erstwhile
minnow for shelter in the Forest of No-hopers, looks bang on
for the first gold ever for carrying the can of shite - a new
discipline introduced for Th'limpits this time round. Mainly
because there is so shite to get rid of... 

Take it easy out there, you never know who you might bump into... 


Oh yeah, if you're not interested in Th'limpits, watch ITV.


Happy(?) 'limpitting...

COMING SOON... Star Wars at Th'limpits

A long time ago in a one-way system far, far away...

It is a period of unease. Lost bus drivers, driving in ever decreasing circles (or is it increasing?), have lost their first batch of athletes on their way to the evil 'limpit Village, the site of the Stadia of Boyle. During the trip, GeeESfor Exec-cutives manage to steal millions of pounds of the 'limpit Empire's fortunes and gain control of the ORBIT, an armored installation with enough power to destroy an entire planet. Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess Colo races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen plans that can save her people and restore freedom to the people of the 'limpits. . . . 


....but lo, ho, what is this sound of slime against tarmac? This disgusting pustulence trailing monster, with the breath of skank-ridden Thames water and Chateau-pap-de-bleurgh? It is the evil one that is Jonna-the-Hut. He spouts his indefinable gibberish, thus:

"Colo! Hay lapa no ya, Colo!

"Boonowa tweepi, ha, ha.

"Sebbo, mah bukee, keel-ee caleya ku kah. Wanta dah moole-rah? Wonkee chee sa crispa con Camero?"

(Loosely translated: Seb, what the fuck have you done to my town? I told you to build it in Lego you twat-faced Chelsea supporting grease ball. I tell you this I'm off to tell Camo, he'll know how to sort your fucking arse out baby!)

Next time: Th'limpits A Guide

Normal Service will be resumed shortly, in approximately 24 days...

See fah luto eetheen, ee yaba ma dukey massa. Eeth wong che coh pa na-geen, nah meeto toe bunky dunko. Lo choda!

(Translation: "Fuck you, no it won't" said Jonna, dribbling...)

New garden, old garden, flowers and The Bin Men

I took all the following pictures last week. Since last Friday I have been coughing my lungs up, actually not strictly true, but great vast lumps of something keep appearing from my chest and I just thought perhaps it was lung. I also have no voice. It went off somewhere on Sunday, I thought as a result of drinking far too much Peroni, red wine and Limoncello, but apparently not - although one suspects it may have brought the whole sorry episode to a head and made my lungs explode.


I shall explain. A big group of us were going to go camping last weekend, but of course decided not to for reasons too bleeding obvious to even hint at here. Instead, we went to Da Vinci's in Tring, a little Italian restaurant whose owner brews (is that what you do to make Limoncello? Or is it something made at the very bottom of Dante's inferno, ring 9 perhaps) his own Limoncello.


So, 14 forty & 50-somethings (actually I was the only 50-something...) drank the place dry of Peroni and then got given two bottles of the aforementioned liqueur. It was passed round the table in a sinister, yet not entirely unfriendly manner. Oh dear... I have no recollection of walking home; no recollection of falling over in the chicken run, locking the cockerel away for the night, bearing in mind it was past three in the morning; and finally, I have no recollection of recollecting anything or even collecting anything.


Oh Italia, la terra del demone che è Limoncello e Vialli benedetti e Zola! 

A new garden in Wendover, yet again I forgot to take a "before" - the
after looks ok though...

Some of the many and wondrous flowers at Quainton

 

Above are two pix of the pond. I love lilly pads and one day we shall have a pond in our garden. We had one in our old house in Boxmoor and I loved building it. Ponds are basically, great!

Basically, there is no longer a lawn at Quainton.
Of course this is fine, but in the mean time, every
time I go a little bit more of me, quite frankly, dies...

And finally... Below are two pictures showing how our bin men leave the bins just about every week. If I did my job so shoddily I'd never get another fucking garden to look after. We are told by the council to place the bins out neatly so as not to obstruct the path. We are told not to put them out too soon. We are even told that if the bin lid is not completely flat we could have the collections taken away from us (as if!!!) - the bastards broke the handle on our bottle basket weeks ago for chrissakes! I would so love to know where these cretins live so I could go and block their path with some of the debris from the garden at Quainton. Or even with that lovely digger...

Happy councilling...

Ahhhhhh... Boring it is now...

...to visit this place of the 'limpits. Why so much wet? Wet is here too much; end when will it?


The 'limpits commence are soon and The Limpitians all arrive here these shores soon, but ready are you not. Theresa May-Not says well everything with Troopers of the Imperial Storm, but delivery of Limpitians forever take through entry at the Row of Heath. One wonders how The Limpitians to get the Stadia of Boyle when bridges do crack and roads wend wearily through the Valley of Congestionia. The dark force is truly here betiding the woes of humanity and Jonna the Boris-Hut.


With you are my thoughts of which I share the words of wise from Jonna, "I want to assume supreme power", for they convey my feelings of foreboding that all is not well in the Garden of the Stadia of Boyle...


"Good relations with the Wookiees, I have... Size matters not!"


May the froth be with you... Happy 'limpits!

If the rain comes they run and hide their heads...

Ah my boys, The Fab Four and one of the most influential songs they wrote, Rain. You listen to it and you hear just about every band since, from the Stones to The Stone Roses. I think Liam Gallagher would not exist without that song, have a listen my friends:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MPjDMZiuhbQ

Even the way John sings shine is how Liam pronounces it, shi-ine... Only Liam over does it of course, shi-ine-nah.


Anyhoo, even as I listen to it again, the last few weeks have been crap as far as the weather is concerned. I have, however, managed to work most days. On several days I have appeared at our back door thus...

...a bit muddy, like a Swamp Thing. Indeed, I could have played his double.


I refuse to complain. No, I really do, I'm sick of hearing people going on and on and on and on... about how wet it is. And then, blow me down we get a couple of sunny days and people say, "If it's not one thing it's the other, too hot innit?"


You know what, NO IT ISN'T! Imagine if we lived in a country that had real bad weather or lived in a tornado alley or something. We have a very temperate climate and we are lucky to get what we have. You wait, in a couple of weeks we'll be back to the bleeding drought...


Here are some pictures from the last two weeks:

Did some work at Rebecca's London home in St John's Wood. That's artificial grass and doesn't look too bad in this picture. A good day all round really, even if it did rain...

There's a pretty old wisteria here that they want to move to
Quainton. Not easy, but we'll give it a go

The conservatory. Nice place...

A rather wonderful dog rose (Rosa canina) that grows over a shrub I can't make out at Quainton. Astonishingly beautiful...

...and the bees like it too

Look what they done to my grass!

Oh dear, this once looked like this...

...but I have done a sort of fag packet idea with Rebecca and the builders
and the area will be rather beautiful in a few weeks. 

The wisteria I mentioned above will hopefully be planted where that old Christmas tree is sitting, leaning up against the wall in the middle of the picture.


Oh well, that's it for this time. Just to say I may have picked up another big garden this week just up the road from home. Fingers crossed...


Be happy - I'm trying...

Marsworth on sunny Sunday afternoon...

It has to be said that we who live in Tring and the surrounding area are somewhat blessed with nice places to visit. One such area is that at and about Marsworth Reservoir. It is situated by the loveliness that is the Grand Union canal and wwe went for a walk there after lunch at the Bluebell Cafe.

The view across the reservoir to the beginning of the Chiltern Hills

Canal left; reservoir, right

Grand Union canal - I have to say that this stretch is one of the loveliest...

Alison and Sophie in the distance

Aren't swans just so... swan-like

I would live here at the drop of a hat - and about £1.5million

The above is where the house in the previous picture presides. It's a
convergence of two bits of the canal at Bulbourne, just down the road
from where we live.

This was meant to show a frenzy of tadpoles, but having been taken on a mobile it's not very clear. They are the little blob of black just to the right of centre

Just looking back along the reservoir, couldn't resist that nice cloud formation

Back to gardening tomorrow, just wanted to share this lovely little afternoon...


Happy walking!