I can't stand the rain...

Hello! Here we go again. After the no show yesterday I was determined to get out to work today. Every second Thursday I have four gardens to do in Hemel Hempstead - or Amyl Hempstead as my mate Phil says. I had to take out an old conifer in the first house and then went on to just do some basic weeding at another.


While weeding, two women walked by, mid-30s, non-descript I guess would be a way of describing them. "Fancy a threesome?" said one, she cackled like an erstwhile female Sid James (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aj7D65SFOhM). She stood over me, I looked up and there was a toothless grin beaming out of a face that had seen a lot of living. I smiled, "No thanks," I said and got back to the dandelions.


Don't know what she muttered as she moved on, but the word "serious" was spluttered. Shame really, don't know why I mention it, but I have become rather overtly aware of sexual harassment recently. There was a Radio 4 programme on last week called "My name isn't baby" or something like that, it talked about women being harassed on the street. Now I'm not saying I was harassed per se, but it's not a particularly nice experience; won't say it made me feel dirty, just sad that people feel the compunction to say such things. Like say, sad.

Tuesday was spent at Rebecca's place as normal. The rain wasn't too bad actually, which was nice. I moved a few more flowers and smallish shrubs around and weeded all the main beds near the house. The bed outside the kitchen window that I started to re-plant is looking quite lovely

Most of the above was elsewhere in the garden, so I'm very pleased they have all taken so well. It's a nice project and it's going to be a delight watching it develop over the year

Have I said I like a bit of brick?

That's B-R-I-C-K. If you look closely on the row of bricks ten rows up, there are a series of numbers and letters imprinted on them - see below:

These are the idents from the brick yards that made them. I believe you can even date them from the these numbers too. Little fact I picked up from a BBC2 programme called "Brick by brick - rebuilding our past", a little gem of a show, fronted by the brilliant Dan Cruickshank

And here's the drive way at Rebecca's, another little area that I have been trying to tidy up since I started there, some eight months ago.

Gosh I love my work!


And then today, Thursday. "I can't stand the rain..." indeed. Hail again, but this time I had a hat on so the hail didn't sting quite so much - I believe we baldies should have government supplied hard hats for such situations.

...who would want to harm that head?
Yeah OK...

On to Tom and Vicky's place in Aldbury and I substituted trimming the hedge for cleaning up the brick laid path and patio area at the top of the garden - did I say I like a bit of brick? A wise choice as the rain kept a-comin' and a-goin'. 

Note to self: take BEFORE pictures too!!!

And so, it's Friday tomorrow, back to Glassmill House and the delightful fella who got very outraged at the fact that I was using a leaf blower to blow leaves. Looking forward to meeting up with him again...


Happy blowing... (know-wad-eye-meen?)

Back in my day droughts weren't wet...

As I have said in the past, I am not one for moaning really. Not a whinger or a whiner; not me. BUT, oh dear, what the bejesus is going on out there in the big wide world?


THIS:

The only thing to do is sit in the car with a nice cuppa...

Thing is, of course this rain will be the wrong kind of rain. It won't replenish the reservoirs or top up the underground natural sources and I won't be able to work. That last statement is nice if you don't have to work, but seeing as I need to work, it's, quite frankly, boring. As I sit here the sun is shining, but there is a massive black cloud coming in over the Chilterns, looking like it's gonna dump a biblical amount of water yet again. Apparently this current drought is due to a blocking anti-cyclone - sounds like something that goes wrong with your Dyson. 


Anyway, there we are, drought, schmought, I just hope I can get back to work tomorrow (Thursday 26th April). I have a conifer to chop down, so it doesn't really matter if it's raining - just a lot of mud to roll about in again (mud wrestling a conifer does not sound like a good idea though...)


I have doen some nice work over the last 10 days though, here are some pictures...

Julie's last week, little bit of weeding, etc

Isn't it ironic? New grass once settled in looks so much better than old grass. I'm going to tidy up the edges of the new stuff and re-seed so it kind of blends together. As they say, work in progress...

...love it, here comes summer... and the bluebells

Another bit of "cruel to be kind" pruning at Pat's place. Titchmarsh
should stick to gardening - fine advice, the cruel stuff

And talking of cruel to be kind, the wisteria carries on on it's wispy way, can't wait for the flowers to bloom

Oh, blue sky has appeared above the Chilterns, but just been out to look at the chickens and the run is like a mud bath and the gells are looking most bedraggled. We continue to get 4 eggs a day, which is good as Alison had loads of cakes to make in the coming weeks, plus we have the Aldbury Mayday Fayre to prepare for. Here is the stall from last year...

A splendid cornucopia of loveliness...

So, there we have it, that was Monday, Tuesday was actually totally dry and I will post some pictures from then in a little while.

Happy munching!

Sitting in (the) shock of the fey...

...you see, it's 04:22 18th April 2012 and I don't know why I can't sleep again. I'm downloading some pictures from the camera as I sit here all fey like* (see below definitions, I plump for "appearing to be under a spell" or "whimsical; strange - oh yes, rather!; otherworldly"). Problem is, I forgot Finlay took loads of videos up at the zoo (Whipsnade) at the weekend, so it's taking forever.


Actually, there is a rather fascinating little video taken by Alison of one of our hens, Tilly. On Saturday morning when I went down to feed them I could have sworn that I heard a very distinct, "Cock-a-doodle-doo", but thought, "Nah! Don't be stupid..." On Sunday, Alison heard it too, four times. We still thought it was highly unlikely that Happy Chicks could possibly have supplied us with a Billy instead of a Tilly (Tilly with a willy?). Anyway, sure enough, she/he has kept on with the the classic call and is getting better and better at it.


We wrote to them to say, "What the..._ we said. "Send evidence," they replied. Here's the evidence (also, they are all supposed to White Stars, a very mild tempered bird, apparently). Please note Tilly/Billy's upright tail and undoubted wattly bit under his/her chin:

This is Clarrie, the older bird, very feisty!

Tallulah on left, Tilly/Billy right - note the colour of he legs too.
Clarrie and Tallulah have yellow legs, Tilly/Billy has pale pink.

Now then, here is the incontrovertible truth:

Elementary my dear friends. Thing is, if we give him back they'll croke him, if we keep him we'll have fertilised eggs. A dilemma. The only thing to do is to separate them, poor Billy, and give the fella a run of his own, which will mean knocking down a shed.


Oh the trials and tribulations of animal husbandry.


Suffice to say all the above will be winging (pun intended) their way to the pillocks at Happy Chicks - Happy Chicks, my big fat hairy one!


And finally, COME ON YOU BLUES (Barca at home first leg of Champions League Semi...)


Happy Roostering...




*

fey

 

adjective

1.

British Dialect . doomed; fated to die.

2.

Chiefly Scot. appearing to be under a spell; marked by an apprehension of death, calamity, or evil.

3.

supernatural; unreal; enchanted: elves, fairies, and other fey creatures.

4.

being in unnaturally high spirits, as were formerly thought to precede death.

5.

whimsical; strange; otherworldly: a strange child with amysterious smile and a fey manner.

Post 118 part de deux - that'll be 119 then...

Here are then, this week at work. There was rain, hail, sunshine, freezing winds and lots of tea, nice...

One of the jobs I do is at two blocks of flats in Berkhamsted. Don't really like it but the plus is that I grab a cheeky pint at The Rising Sun pub, which is undoubtedly the best pub in Berkhamsted and probably the best in Hertfordshire too. Problem is, with a job like this you have loads of people with opinions on what you should be doing, which is OK, but - and it's a big BUT - when someone, just one, has an opposing opinion to the majority that opinion gets irritating. It's the old one bad apple in the barrel innit?

Also, when you take over a poorly kept lawn, full of moss and rubbish, it takes twice as long to cut. The first picture below shows it, it's horrible, creates dust and loads of particles of moss fly about getting on your chest, which is a bit rubbish if you're an asthmatic. Don't get me wrong, the money is fine and I do like the work, it's just it's too much like work. Y'know what I mean? It's almost corporate in context. All my other work is for individual families and they like what I do, ALL of them like what I do. Again, don't get me wrong, if things don't work out with people you just move on, that's fine, but corporate stuff means you just have to put up with the nonsense. Shame, why should you have put up with nonsense?

That's that off my chest and I promise it won't happen again in the foreseeable. The pictures below are all from the last 7/8 days.

The aforementioned rubbish bit of grass. It takes at
least 3 goes to collect all the cuttings too, horrible

Call me an old hippy, but I love the "LOVE & PEACE" graffiti. South Bank last Saturday...

Had to take this asa the Fabs are along the bottom of this pillar

One of the atriums at the Tate Modern, love big balloons

Cumulonimbus... The only cloud worth looking at

The above three pictures are from the big lawn at Rebecca's place in Quainton. They are getting a sit Husqvarna mower later in the year but I just couldn't leave it any longer and put in an ever decreasing circle. It was really good fun and I never noticed the 4 hours it took to do it - doesn't time fly when you're having a gooooood time?

Hellebores and Daffs at Julie's in Buckland

More Daffs at Julie's

The three above pix are the long lawn at Julie's place. I don't cut the grass here, which is good really as I would need to work there for at least 2 days a week, which would mean giving up one of my other gardens, which I couldn't do, no now. That's a Medlar tree on the right, beautiful gnarly old branches and a lovely little den for Julie's kids.

Tom & Vicky's place in Aldbury. Alison has been looking after this for me
recently. It looks great and the little lawn I put in last year, top of pic, is
looking really nice 

Yet another newly cut lawn. Again, first cut of the year, so it took very
nearly four hours to do. Lots of moss again, but far more manageable
and I really like the way it looks with the cross-cutting. Not sure about the
"installation" though... This house is in Chesham Bois by the way.

So there you have it, only four days of work, but loads done and Sophie was 13 on Monday, blimey, our little girl a teenager...


Happy happy!!!

Post 118 part uno - This Week in Tinseltown...

Hello!


Been a good week, the weather was iffie, but then it's been so dry, a bit of damp will sort us all out - don't know about the cold though, don't like the cold.


On Saturday we took the mother-in-law to Paddington, no reason, we just dropped her off there and off we went to have a look at the rest of the smoke. (NB: she did have a duffle coat and marmite sandwich, so I guess she wanted to fit in or sumfing.)


Also, it was Finlay's first trip there, which is crazy really by the age of six I had already travelled the full distance of the routes of the numbers 25, 159 and, of course, the 73, buses. We went to Oxford Street for a tinsy bit of shopping and then off down to the South Bank.


We passed the Aquarium (1 hour to queue); the London Eye (24 hours to queue); the BFI Bar (no queue); Tate Modern, where we had lunch and damn good too! (The only queuing in there was for some bloke who kills sharks and plays with them in his bath, "...call THAT art," we said); the Globe (again no queue); we went into The Clink (no queue) and attempted to read all the gruesome stuff about torture, but Finlay wanted to find rats or something; then we went to look for the Marshalsea Prison, where Charles Dickens dad was imprisoned for having no money; walked through Borough Market and we finally ended up having a drink in The George just off Borough High Street, one of my favourite pubs - the last galleried pub in Britain, and very beautiful it is too.


Here's some photos - see if you can guess where they were taken:

I will have to post again tomorrow, I have some really nice pictures from work this week too.


Anyone else totally confused about the tax situation at the moment?


Happy calculating!


PS: We didn't have any marmalade for the mother-in-law. We also didn't have a duffle coat, so she had to make do with a packer mac - well a black bin bag with a piece of rope actually...

Hello again! Par de uno

Well, the second week of the new gardening season* kicked off with a quick tidy up in Pat's back garden - don't want to take away too much though as there was a heavy frost over night and the old leaves and foliage keep the new shoots nice and warm. Then returned to the front and finished off clearing up the disaster left by some idiot scaffolders who ruined the edging of the grass. Basically drivers tend to turn round on the area of grass in front of Pat's and it churns up the grass, but the scaffolders did a really great (sic) job of making a quagmire out of it, so I have attempted to clean it up, make it look better and with the help of some strategically placed posts (rustic stylee) will make it look good and impossible to do a u-eeee over!

Should have taken a proper "before" but I only thought to do it after about an hour's work 

Then over to the allotment to carry on with the digging. I only have about a third left to do and then I'll be getting the manure/home made compost on it. Very exciting as the potatoes, onions, shallots and garlic turned up on Friday, all nicely chitting and pre-planted in the greenhouse yesterday.


While cleaning out the chickens yesterday there was a very loud bang and crash. Yep! Footballs and greenhouses don't go together... Poor Finlay got shouted at, which is always wrong - note to self, anger management, anger management, anger management...


A few catch-up pictures. The first one is the seed, mixed with sharp sand, for the wild flower meadow at Quainton. A cornucopia of loveliness...

And these are some of the many signs of Spring at Church Farm, Buckland, Julie & Andrew's place...

I do like a daff or two and those hellebores make my heart jump and the narcissi at the bottom even beat the daffs - speaking of daffs, well done the Welsh for winning the Six Nations, marvellous stuff...


Pat left me the keys to let Fergus out today, so he could have a run about and do his "business". The below is as far as he got from the back door! Bless the ol' fella!

And finally, yesterday being Mother's Day, here's a picture of mum and son that I just couldn't resist...

Happy cuddling!


*NB: The new gardening season is a figment of my imagination by the way, I just call it that as I am now back working on all the regular gardens I have and it's a rather lovely sign that Spring is really here and I can stop being a miserable git for the next 8/9 months...