Howzabout that then? A fresh stock of fodder for Herbie's new, and as yet unused, stove. Kath, bless her has been sawing all day to cut up one batch of beech logs kindly donated by the council worker dealing with a fallen bough across the footpath outside our house, and another batch of holly kindly donated by our next door neighbour who has been indulging in the non trivial task of hacking at his hedge. The hedge along the back of our houses actually belongs to the church beyond and is very old and some of the holly trunks are eight inches or more thick.
Regular readers of this blog will not be surprised that I have weighed and labelled one of the logs to monitor its water loss over time.
Some of the logs will need splitting, for which I shall be using our trusty log splitting mall which we bought at Aldi some years back. One clout is all it takes (as long as you don't miss).
Holly and beech both burn well and are both very dense and hard, the holly being very white against the orangey colour of the beech.
While Kath was spending her calories on the sawing, I have been having a go at reinstating our shed to a properly functioning store rather than a mere inaccessible junk pile. It was getting over full. I'm asking myself why we have a lumpy patchy scruffy lawn and three lawn mowers. Something has to go.
Once I got the shed emptied (finding all manner of lost items in the process including the collar tag of Treacle, our little Jack Russell over forty years ago and a useful book on how to play the ocarina), it became clear that the shed's polycarbonate roof was in severe danger of collapse. No matter. Amongst all the stuff I found at the back of the shed was enough stout timber to effect a repair. Out came the trusty drill and a box of screws and a couple of bracing hours (geddit?) later its good for another few years. Result!
I hope this won't be the last post I will ever write, but just in case, I'll report that I persuaded my doctor (over the phone, because the surgery is shut) to prescribe me a change of blood pressure tablet. For years I've been taking beta blockers - famously used by some snooker players to steady their hands. (apart from Bill Werbernuik who I seem to recall used several pints of lager) Reading around I discover that they might just be contributing to my shortness of breath, so now the doc has given me a substitute and I made the mistake of reading the list of possible side effects in the accompanying leaflet. So if I collapse on the floor wheezing and vomiting with my skin bursting into blisters and falling off in large patches, you'll know the reason. My children will no doubt be amused to know that the name of the pills includes the word Retard.