where art collides

more train of thought

Comfortably on eleven oh four Eurostar to Brussels, coach 16 Seat 57. Table to meself at the front of the train. Place to be. Buried in ma tunes. Poxy connectivity as usual. Having a table to yourself means being able to shift the food tray out of the way in between courses. 

The woman sat over the aisle in a single seat is having to put the tray on her lap whilst typing away on a powerpoint. I’m writing my diary. A day in the worralife!

Just emerged from the chunnel. The weather is the same here as in London. Dullness prevails. Looks like it has been raining a lot. Makes life in the trenches very unpleasant. Don’t suppose trench living is pleasant whatever the weather. I only mention trenches because the train traverses world war one territory.

This train continues on to Amsterdam via Rotterdam after dropping me off in Brussels. Shame it doesn’t stop in Antwerp which is where I am off to. Goes through Antwerp. 293kmh. The train. Quite fast eh? The countryside is verily whizzing by, forsooth.

I seem to be jumping back and forth across history here. I mean c’mon. Nobody says forsooth or verily these days. Did they ever other than in Shakespeare plays?

Pretty full on day in London yesterday. These conferences are knackering. No respite. I rarely bother with any of the content.

…

Now on the delayed (15 mins) 14:19 to Anvers Centraal. 2 changes of platform, presumably because of the delay. You have to be alert when catching trains in Belgium. 

Trundling along at a very sedate pace. No wonder it is running late. I suppose the bloke carrying the flag out front is a bit tired. We’ve just pulled in to Brussels North and are now running seventeen minutes late.

Looking at a quiet night tonight. Beans on toast ideally but I guess they probs don’t have that delicacy on menus in Antwerp. Missing a trick. I don’t want moules frites or steak frites Bob.

I wonder what Belgians eat instead of beans on toast. They must have their own comfort foods. Chip butties? Quite like a chip butty. Buttered white bread.

…

All quiet in the exec lounge of the Antwerp Hilton. Quaffing a g&t before heading down to the bar which should be a bit livelier. Not made my mind up whether I want dinner. Nowt special.

In one sense it’s a waste just hanging around the hotel here in Antwerp. I’ll be back again in May though for a longer stay. See how it goze.

It wasn’t ‘thought for the day’ that got me put of bed this morning. It was winners speeches from the Oscars. Worraloadofdrivel. Honestly. We’re It not for THG I don’t think I’d have the radio on in the morning other than for the two minute sports bulletin.

Off to London today. Meeting Rohan for dinner in cafe pacifico tonight although no idea what time now as his flight is delayed. Plane diverted to Sri Lanka due to a medical emergency apaz. Two nights in town then a flying visit, by Eurostar, to Antwerp for a Thursday morning meeting. 

I like Antwerp. I stay in Hilton Old Town which is slap bang in the middle of town next to the cathedral. If anyone is in the area and fancies a lemonade let me know but I don’t think I know any folks around there. 

Yesterday we waved goodbye to THG’s old car. It has been donated to Hannah who will find it very useful and who is the only one of our offspring with somewhere to put it. We are still a one car family. We only need one. 

It isn’t as if we live in the middle of nowhere. There is a bus to town every twenty minutes just down the road from the house. The 5A if I remember right. Not that I have any real desire to go to town and it is walkable. Shops! Wossthatallabout. It is going to be a few years before I qualify for a bus pass anyway and by that time I might enjoy a bus  trip to town, for the bingo. Meet the boys for half a bitter shandy!

On a whim I just looked up the bus timetable to Skegness. Every hour. Four quid from the Ancaster Avenue bus stop. Takes nearly two hours though. That’s four hours on a bus there and back. Half the day already accounted for. You really would have to have nothing better to do with your time.

I do quite like the idea of days out in Skegness, sat in a wind shelter on the front, as you do 🙂 Cup of tea in a caff on the front. Fish and chips. Small pensioner’s portion obvs. I’d expect them to have a deal every Wednesday. Perhaps not. Who knows 🙂

Maybe winters spent on a Caribbean island might work better, or somewhere around the Med. Wales even 🙂

Back to the present and reality the milkman came at twenty past five this morning. Latest he’s been. Usual bloke. Did he want a bit of a lie in? Was it a tiring weekend? We will probably never find out.

…

Am at one of those periods of time where I am going somewhere but not for an hour and a half. In the meantime it is difficult to motivate meself to do anything.

…

Thirty minutes to go. Half an hour before I set off, leave the house, depart on my next adventure. It isn’t particularly an adventure. It is what my imagination wants it to be. I’m sat in the snug with my coat on and cold hands. This is because the heating is not on in the house whereas the shed was toasty. However the shed is locked up and I have no need to return.

Back in seat E5 and the train is rolling out of the station. Choo choo. Pardon me boy. Table of four to myself. Tis the way it should be. My New York Deli sandwich is on the table in front of me awaiting a cup of tea and some sparking water to wash it down. It must be said that this member of staff is not nearly as cheery as the usual ones. Something on her mind maybs. The hidden stories that people bottled up.

I’m sitting here wearing my suede cowboy jacket. The one with all the badges on it. It is warm and most suitable for a jaunt to London. The conference I am off to tomorrow has stipulated a dress code of “business casual” so I figured the jacket would fit the bill. Business casual huh. I will also be wearing my Harris Tweed jacket mind you. Warm. Haven’t decided which tee shirt yet.

There is a private airstrip between Lincoln and Newark and today as we trundled by there was someone moving about. I can’t imagine it is used that often and certainly not at this time of year when the ground is very waterlogged. Checking to see nobody’s nicked the plane I imagine.

Lots of water in the fields around Newark. This was probably bog before the Romans drained the area. Never ask what the Romans did for us. The Trent is running very high.

At Newark a woman boarded the train. She is talking to herself and tried to engage me in conversation. Uhoh. The Bose phones are now on and I’m randomly listening to a bit of Jacques Brell whilst staring at my screen. Ah well. I’m alright 🙂It is observed that she detrains at Stevenage.

It’s raining cats and dogs/men/choose your own idiom. This being the case means it is quite relaxing. I’m sure that those of you currently on a sun lounger around a pool will say that you too are relaxed. However, a) I don’t have a pool and if I did it wouldn’t be warm enough and b) I do have rain.

If I was sat on a sun lounger it would have to be in the shade as I don’t do sitting in the sun. The sun does have its uses, growing peas for example, but sitting out in it is not for me. No sir.

Meanwhile THG is getting the veg ready for today’s Sunday lunch which is being taken at lunch time as opposed to tea time in which case it would be called Sunday dinner. Again I realise this is somewhat contradictory but it really depends where you come from.  

For example members of the Yanomami tribe from the Amazonian rainforest would now be totally bewildered probs. They don’t have the concept of lunch, tea or dinner. In the rainforest you eat whenever you can, usually after killing a porcupine or a monkey, if they can catch one. Interestingly the Yanomamis have their own saying for when it rains. This translates roughly as “it is wet”. 

Today’s rain, heavy as it is, is not the horizontal driving rain often to be found on exposed moors and hillsides where it can often be quite windy. North Wales, for example, or Scotland. I daresay there I could mention other windy and exposed places but I won’t as it would get boring v quickly and mean I might spill over to another page. Don’t want to waste paper innit. 

In case you were wondering, there really is a Yanomami tribe. I googled it. There are also the pygmy and the Huli tribes and potentially others as yet undiscovered but I won’t be naming them, obvs. By all means let me know if i’ve missed any 🙂.

The average rainfall in Lincoln in March is 49.64mm or 1.95 inches if you were born before 1971. I should really invest in a weather station to record this sort of information. It would fit nicely with milkman arrival times. I did use to record the greenhouse temperature but the website i was using, trefsgreenhouse fell into disrepair. The Raspberry Pi and the sensors are still in place so one day I might get it going again. Also the live video stream.

The live stream of tomatoes growing was a particular hit. At any given time there might be as many as one viewer (ok that might have been me but I didn’t record visitor numbers). It was one of my works of slow art. I’ve posted the hugely speeded up timelapse vid of the whole growing season here so that you don’t have to search for it.

Tharrldofornow.

I don’t record visitor number for philosopherontap either. Neither do I do any SEO related tweaks.

The itch. I scratched it. Then I scratched somewhere else, and after that the top of my head. No apparent reason. Why does somewhere randomly itch?

Cold water on your face. Invigorating. Wakes you up nicely. Refreshing.

As ‘thought for the day’ began the radio switched itself off. Serendipitous. All knowing.

Outside the rain falls steadily, drumming a gentle beat on the conservatory roof. The trees, still devoid of foliage, stand motionless and have nothing to say. They stand there patiently as if resigned to a day’s inactivity ahead.

The kitchen is calm. Avocado toast with a side of streaky bacon adorns the table. A few chopped walnuts, lime and a drizzle of good balsamic vinegar. I need to replenish the supplies of good balsamic. Belazu just about cuts it.

A fair bit achieved yesterday and I expect Tuesday to continue in the same productive vein. I struck whilst the iron was hot, dammit. Whilst the sun shone. THG is pleased with her candlesticks which is good. A happy wife means a happy Tref 🙂

Interesting, the concept of finding a productive vein. It’s like striking a seam of coal, or better still gold. Let’s clear that lot out shall we? Oh yes. Gold would defo be preferable to coal for obvious reasons. Diamonds even better although let’s not get carried away.

Back on Zog there are signs of life. Movement on the upstairs landing. The day is starting in the house of Tref. I must away…

The radio stopped at around a quarter to eight. It was on a timer. Time to get up said Zebedee. Well he didn’t say that but would have done so had he been around, natch. Many of you will have no idea who Zebedee is but you’ll have to look it up. I’m not going to help. He was magic.

Early to the shed and I thought I’d drop in on the weekly Monday morning sales meeting. Even made a small contribution as I had visited a customer whilst out in South Africa. 

It is misty out. The sun is trying to poke its nose through the gloom. The met office has promised me personally that it will be a sunny morning. I trust the good people who work there. Times have changed since the unforecast great storm of 1987 or whenever it was. Around about that time.

The news this morning is that I need to do a php upgrade on philosopherontap. Snorrabiggie really, obvs. Just popped up in an email from the host. Philosopherontap is on a shared server. Doubt it gets many visitors. There are a few other sites on there – mostly the kids own stuff but I don’t think they play much with it. Just backing it up now. Can go on my NAS box as Google drive is starting to fill up. 

5.8GB compressed so not too bad I guess.It’s a two minute download job over my 1Gbps fttp. That’s probs a lot of pics in older philosopherontap posts. I tend not to bother uploading images these days. 

Moving from 2TB to 5TB takes the monthly cost from £7.99 to £19.99. Not huge in the great scheme of things. Just one of the costs of modern day life. One of these days I’ll take a look at all the domain related costs I see coming in and perhaps rationalise them. I see cash going out in dribs and drabs but never really look at what it is.

As previously stated today is a Monday. I wonder what will be achieved this week? Seems reasonable to want to achieve something. Not work related. That stuff sorts itself out. I do have a job to do for THG to which I should turn my attention. This relates to the affixing of bases to her candlestick projects. We bought the wood and I need to cut it to size, sand down and glue. I will get that done this morning. It’s a get the circular saw out job which needs to be done outside but the sun is now out, the birds are singing away. I might as well get on with it.

Today we pick up Anne’s new car. The milkman came at four nineteen this morning and left two pints. Usual guy.

…

A bit of fixture collision coming up next weekend. Wales v Ireland and Liverpool v Man City. I’ll be able to watch some of one of the games on catchup.

Also it was observed that the Red Arrows had six planes out when they were practising. Last Friday it was only five. I wonder when they will have the full team out?

Yay it’s the weekend. Yay. THG has made the tea and I caught some ‘Farming Today’ on the wireless. What’s not to like. I like listening to farming today. We were all farmers, if you go back far enough so it is in our blood.

I like the idea of having a cow. Someone else would have to look after it but the fresh milk, butter and cheese it would produce would be v nice. Not sure it works like that. Even @chris Conder who has loads of cows gets her cheese and butter from a shop. Fresh milk though.

What are people up to today? After breaking the fast I plan on making a steak pie for tomorrow’s lunch. Slow cook the day before makes for a tasty pie. I make a good pie. Shop bought pastry though. THG is off to the park run.

When I were a farmer, a few hundred years ago, I’d be out mending a fence this morning. Then I’d have to fix the wheel on the cart. Nuisance that it broke. These things happen. At some stage I’d check up on the pigs. Already did the milking. Well, THG probably did that. Or the girl. Never ends. Always a job to do innit.

Handy having pigs. A plentiful supply of bacon which I like. At the moment I get it from Fosters butchers on Monks Road. My grandmother kept a pig in the sty at the bottom of the garden and the deeds of our house in Greetwell Gate said we were allowed to keep a pig. There was a sty in the back yard. It’s not there anymore. I knocked it down. Used the space more effectively. It wasn’t a big back garden.

This afternoon I have a few lads coming around to the shed. We will drink beer and talk bollocks, pardon the French. It’s what blokes do in a shed on a Saturday afternoon. One of the raisons d’etre of a shed. 

I realise that sometimes sheds are also used to store gardening equipment and I do have a pair of secateurs there that I occasionally use to trim the ivy off the fence panels around the side. A token bit of kit but this particular shed is more than just a garden store. We have another shed for that.

My shed is whatever your imagination wants it to be. At times, not that often,  it is an exercise studio. It is a global communications hub, a meeting room, an office, a recording studio and a place where I can entertain important guests and clients in a convivial environment. It might even one day be a workshop although the potting shed is a more suitable place to keep the as yet unbought lathe. I suspect I will never own a lathe. It is too far down the list of things to do with my time.

In the meantime I have breakfast to fix and a pie to make. I’m thinking maybe even rosti potato this morning. See how it goze. Ciao amigos.

…

A time to sit and reflect. Breakfast has been taken, as they might say in the posh country houses of yore, or even of today. I’d say I’ve had breakfast and am now sitting down with a cuppa easing into the day. All is well.

Our reasonably spacious drive is devoid of cars, THG having gone off to do her Saturday morning thing. I have time to plan.

How do you plan time? It’s quite an interesting thought. People have already put much effort into it. It’s why we have clocks. Then folk realised that our earthly time bears no relation to time anywhere else. Imagine a load of interplanetary pilots getting together on the planet Zog. Spaceships are parked up, they’ve had a few drinks and are now all coordinating the next meeting, this time on the outermost ring of the planet Xerxa in the UrsulaAndress galaxy.

What time shall we meet? It is now ten past three. No it isn’t it’s five past twenty seven! See what I mean. Every planet has different times. Someone will have suggested a solution but I don’t know what it is. I’m blowed if I’m going to adopt the Plutonian time standard. Our own earthly one is good enough, apart from the odd inconsistency such as year lengths and leap years. Hey…

In my case my time horizon reaches no further than the Paris Olympics. I have a few jaunts to plan before then – the Isle of Man and my annual trip to Antwerp. I like Antwerp although finding the right train from Brussels Midi can be a bit of a faff. Get on the wrong one and it takes a lot longer.

Thinking of driving this year. Overnight ferry from Hull to Rotterdam and then a mere hour and ten minutes in the car. I’ll probs book that over the next week or so. The ferry costs roughly the same as the train, ish.

…

Now banging out some tunes in the shed. Pie filling is in the oven on gas mark 2 or thereabouts. Il still very much pleuts. I don’t mind. It’s what Tilley hats are for. You might not notice but I’ve tidied up the shed a bit. Took a load of recycling to the brown bin out front. More to go but Rome wasn’t built in a day. On this basis I have another couple of centuries to get it done, assuming I am not thrown to the lions or a similarly fierce gladiator out to prove himself.

One thing I am on  notice of regarding time is getting THG’s candlesticks sorted. We bought some wood for the bases and they need affixing. Might need some more gorilla glue as I finished the last lot. Twill be done. I’ll pop out tomorrow morning. Manāna. The wood for the bases also needs cutting and the edges rounded. All in hand. Leave it with me.

…

Made a start on the candlesticks. Drilled holes for the candles but the bases still need cutting. Then went and chopped some kindling at the bottom of the garden but it started to rain so took shelter in the shed, natch. In between I did get the chichen curry on the go (it’s a scouse chicken).

…

THG has found some snooker on the box. She can sniff it out from afar. Even if the telly is not tuned in to the right channel she can hear the click of the balls on a different station. Uncanny. Radar O’Reilly has nothing on her.

This is a seniors tourney from Dublin on channel five. Not sure I’ve ever seen channel 5 on the tv before. I tell a lie. All Creatures Great and Small. Not sure about watching the telly in the middle of the afternoon. I guess it isn’t weekday daytime TV. When I were a lad, me dad and I always watched Grandstand on Saturday afternoon.

He came at ten past four this morning. I looked at the clock when I heard the porch door open. After depositing his goods he moved on. Usual bloke. I’m not normally awake when he comes. The process of looking at the clock involves opening one eye briefly then, presumably, going back to sleep. Thassit.

Today is St David’s Day. Dydd Gwyl Dewi. Dewi Sant. As a Davies I am named after him. Our family hails from West Wales, Carmarthenshire mostly. In some parts twenty five percent of census records showed Davies as a surname. This stems from the fact that many children were named after St David and in the days before surnames were used then sons might be called Dewi ap Dewi or David son of David. David’s became Davies. There ya go.

This does make life more difficult when tracing family trees. Church records did not have surnames. Also many church records have missing periods of coverage.This is where I have faltered in my own family tree research, not really touched for ten years but due for a renewal of energy. I need to spend some time on the ground in West Wales. Soon.

…

Il fait orrible out there. Absolutely pelting it down. Might just as well be in Wales. Picked my car up from the menders, again, and thence to Waitrose to acquire a bean salad for lunch. Had a cawfee in the caff there.

It’s quite interesting to watch people when you are sat on your own in a caff reading the Waitrose magazine. That last bit is v sad innit. I only really picked the mag up because it is useful for lighting fires. We haven’t had a paper delivered for thirty years – using it to light the fire was one of the side benefits, especially with the Sunday Times which was an inch thick.

There was a granny and grandson combo sitting at the high table in the window. I assume she was a granny – soz if I got that wrong. The kid kept asking questions. Then a couple of women were sat in a booth discussing work stuff. Lots of paper on the table. One of them was very definitely in charge. The curious me wanted to know what they were talking about but I wasn’t so interested to make any effort to find out.  In the next booth a bloke sat there on a conference call using his laptop. Huh.

All the booths were occupied so I sat at a middle table sipping my coffee and staring at the rain. Tis a valid enough use of time. Finishing the drink I zipped up my coat, bent my head into the weather and walked to the car.

…

Let it be known I am now carless. I do have the use of wheels as I can borrow THG’s but I’ve decided I don’t need one meself. We as a family only need one car between us and hopefully it will encourage me to walk/cycle places, primarily to Waitrose. We live in town so I can walk to the shops/pub. The only place typically I go on business is London and I use the train so I don’t need a car for that and could always hire one from time to time if I was going somewhere other than the smoke. Trains get you most places you want to go.

I am expecting that this is the end of an era. I’ve been thinking how I can make my own small contribution to the global warming crisis and decided that not owning a car is the way ahead. I can’t see that an electric car is the way. We will at some stage also install solar panels.

I owned my first car in around 1984 or 85. It was a mini. UGC418M. Since then I’ve been through a variety of company cars and then a Jeep, a Jag and the Land Rover Defender. That’s okay.

The Defender was starting to get pricey to run, not least because the dealer charges £150 an hour labour. I am experimenting with how much we can really live on. I have expensive tastes.

Feels strangely liberating, not having a car. I was never really a car person.

Wednesday, stardate twenty eighth of February twenty twenty four, year sixty two month three. Actually it is year sixty three, month three. I will be sixty three in December.

That’s a lot of years innit? A lot of numbers. How did that happen? I don’t really do the age thing although when joints creak during both the standing up and sitting down process it isn’t something you can totally ignore. No beaming up yet though Scotty. Hey…

Just switched the heating on in the shed. I have a process. I put the pot of tea down, switch on the heating and then fire the mac into life. I’m sure y’all have something similar unless you have to go into an actual office in which case the heating and lights are probs already on and you switch on your laptop before heading to the kitchen to make a cuppa. One of the kids has a barista in his workplace. Posh ou quoi? Addictive. Music industry.

Londoners also tend to get into their office later, what with their longish commute an all. But today it was gone nine thirty ey em for me – I did a chunk of stuff on the sofa in the snug whilst finishing off cuppa number three. 

I have two ways of approaching work. Three if you include delegating everything. One is to do it straight away and the other is to ease into it as the day evolves. Maybe even leave it until the last minute. I know it will get done. 

Last night we had a Scouts committee meeting. As I am the chairman I usually delegate everything but on this occasion found myself agreeing to an action. I did most of it on my phone whilst the conversation went on around me and finished it off when I got home.

At that stage I spotted an email from “Head Office”, as Jones the Steam would say. Reacting to it would have distracted me from the football on the telly so this morning I spent twenty minutes on the sofa putting an answer together. That’s quite a long time for me, twenty minutes. Now, in the shed and having poured the tea, I am waiting for the ball to get rolling. The muse to kick in. Something will trigger it and off I’ll go. Not yet though.

Everything is about time, and our use of it. Use it wisely, grasshopper 🙂This morning the milk was delivered at four eighteen ey em. Same bloke.

Hiya all. How are things this fine February morn. Well it isn’t that fine but February it is. Indeed. Still. Goodness me. Luvaduck. Blimey. Gosh. Innit. However there is no point in wishing time away, fast forwarding to spring proper. In fact there really is no point in having two least favourite months. January and February. That’s one sixth of the year, of your life, of time. 

How do we get to like the first two months of the year. Our forbears slept through them, probs. Conservation of energy and food supplies. We have a freezer and a Waitrose to supply us with such essentials as fresh kumquat, extra virgin olive oil and perfectly ripe avocados so we don’t need the conservation of energy bit so much.

Ok ok I know that the kumquat was picked on a north facing slope or grove somewhere in the southern hemisphere and flown overnight to a warehouse in the disunited kingdom but it comes with the Waitrose freshness guarantee, as does the avocado. They don’t really sell good olive oil in Waitrose plus it has a shelf life but let us not nitpick.

So enjoy February whilst you can, miserable as it may be. 

…

In other news I can’t find my passport. Fortunately I have two but the British one, the one with all the interesting vistas and stamps, has been put somewhere safe in the house and I can’t for the life of me remember where. OK this is not the end of the world. It expires next year and I have a perfectly good Irish passport that I can use but the stamps are worth having and it is also the passport associated with US Global Entry. Now I may never go to the USA again, who knows, but I still want to find the passport.

It will of course turn up somewhere and I will either say “ah of course I remember now, that’s where I put it” or “blimmin eck how did it get there”. Years ago I mislaid my wallet. I returned home after a very enjoyable school sausage sizzle in the Bull and Chain beer garden and put it down somewhere safe. Somewhere that burglars would not find. 

Took me a few weeks to find it and only after all the cards were cancelled and a new driving licence applied for. I only found it because I put my new wallet down in the same safe place on top of the old one. Doh!

A fine bowl of THG’s delicious homemade granola for breakfast with some berries and yo, gurt. A good start to the day. We leave in fifteen minutes, for the body shop, to get the scrape repaired, again. More or less the same place as the last time. I clearly have a blind spot for that part of the car.

Tis a lovely start to the day in the shire. Perfect for a weekend except the weekend it is not. Not that it matters, much. I do have a day of toil ahead. The pick and shovel await in the shed. A shed is a suitable place to keep a pick and shovel. In my case it is a keyboard and mouse, a touchpad and two monitors.

…

Back from the body shop and it sounds as if it has started to rain. Just made it to the shed in time. Dropped THG off at the gym en route and need to pick her up at eleven fifty. She is an active girl.

The milk arrived this morning at five oh one. I checked and am pretty sure it was the same guy who made it at 03:17 on Friday. There was a four fifty nine delivery on a Monday a few weeks ago so the lateness is not unprecedented 🙂 We don’t have enough data yet to see if a pattern is emerging but watch this space. As of today I’m also checking to see if it is the same milkman every day. Screenshots. Big brother is watching.

…

There is a north wind a blowing. Winter hasn’t finished with us yet. I may light the fire tonight. My mother used to lie in front of the fire when we lived in Waunfawr. When we moved to the Isle of Man our house only had radiators, and initially very poor electric ones at that. She used then lie in front to the radiator but it was never the same 🙂

Leaves dance a random jig around the garden. The lawn, which I did clear of leaves in the autumn but which was soon liberally covered with them again, is now almost leaf free. A shipment of peas is on its way for planting in the raised beds when the time is right.

We just need to hold on now. Hold our nerves until spring arrives in its fullness of glory. The cacophony of newly born chicks. The increase in insect activity in the garden. The planting of my wildflower meadow. A time when I can move operations to the deck in front of the shed. Not quite there yet. May probably. April maybe.

…

Watching the great sheep gather again. Wonderful programme. Fantastic concept. The convergence of beautiful landscape poetry and sheep. Who would have thought there was beauty in sheep. It’s about the farming way of life. The gentle language that accompanies the distant bleating sends a shiver down my back.

…

Darkness has descended upon the back garden of Tref and THG and thus the shed. In contrast, inside the shed is brightly lit and I am playing some tunes. Feeling somewhat relaxed and mellow. Currently playing Psycho Killer. Perhaps not the mellowest of tunes but enjoying it I am. Life is short. Play Psycho Killer. Qu’est que c’est.

How does it feel? Don’t think you have to feel. I do though. I breathe in deeply and let my mind escape. I am currently on the LAst TRain to CLarksville. Capitals deliberately accidentally left in. 

I see no lights on in the house. She is in there though. Probs around the front. Doing stuff. THG had some pals over for lunch today. They left at around four pee em. A good lunch. Finest kind. I think of her often, THG. Smile. My girl.

People don’t let their emotions be seen. When I think of THG I smile. She might not like that I speak about her like this in public but it is unlikely people will read it here. 

She. Often when we pass each other we sneak a kiss. I say “quick kiss nobody looking”. Sometimes I pat her on the backside. It’s just me and her. We have known each other for thirty eight years.

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.