It is cold in Lincoln this morning, or so the Meteorological Office would have us believe. The house is warm, benefitting as it does from a modern central heating system and our relatively recently installed double glazing. There will also be a lingering effect from the log fire we had blazing away last night. Somewhere to collapse in front of with pals after an afternoon of rugby watching followed by a very fine lasagna prepared by THG herself.
The schedule for today is already mapped out. I need to chop some dead wood out of one of the apple trees, find some suitable bases for THG’s forthcoming collection of candlesticks and get some Netaxis work done. After lunch we have a test drive followed by the main event which is the League Cup Final between Chelski and the Pool. Cmon the reds.
The thorny question of ivy remains. Thorny because the remaining bit of ivy to be cleared from the back fence is protected by a deep bramble patch. I may just have to chop out the brambles to get at the pesky ivy. Can’t have it wrecking the fence.
I might have been able to do some of the ivy removal from the garden side of the fence but my path is obstructed by a substantial log pile. Not complaining, really. I like logs. Logs are good. A log pile gives you a sense of security. The bigger the pile, the better the feeling.
Of course nowadays we don’t need a log pile to see us through the winter. Not like the ‘olden times’. The days of yore, my friend. My grandmother had an old fashioned range that would have taken logs and latterly coal although this was before I arrived on the scene. You could still see the outline of the range around the hearth. There was also a pantry under the stairs. The cwtch dan star. Different times.
She was born as I recall in nineteen oh seven so my own links, my vestigial memory, extend back to that time. Mostly through pictures and a few books but also from old conversations. The family bible is somewhere on my bookshelves. I never met my grandfather.
Back to the present the cricket, on the face of it, is not going well for England. It‘s not over yet and the fourth innings could prove interesting with the pitch cracking up. I’m watching the game with the sound switched off as it is otherwise a distraction and you can see the camera zooming in on the cracks. Who knows eh? Will find out soon enough.
Elsewhere in the house I hear sounds of the other occupant preparing to go to church. This is our Sunday morning routine. One of us does jobs and the other observes the Sabbath. It works for us.
All is calm.