I woke at 2am to the most
odd noise coming from the back of the house. Whatever it was had upset the dogs
and they were growling. I went to investigate; it was hail. The biggest hailstones
were hitting the back windows with so much force I thought they might be about
to come through.
And then the lightening
started. That didn’t bother the dogs in the slightest, but the occasional
rumble of thunder did. Strange how they reacted only to sound, and not to the
flashes of light.
The storm soon passed (unlike elsewhere in the county) and I
got back to sleep.
Over brekkie "Daddy’s Little Angel
TM" phoned. She seemed as well as can be expected after
Buster’s demise yesterday, and was talking about driving lessons. If anyone can
recommend a good instructor…
I then had a look on
Facebook. There was a little conversation about my series of geocaches in
Bethersden. Apparently someone was out walking them yesterday and the landowner
has told him he doesn’t want them on his land, so the entire lot has to come
in. This landowner actually doesn’t want people using the public rights of way
on his land. Why anyone would tell any landowner about the geocaches is beyond
me though. The unwritten rule is stealth. You keep quiet about what you are up
to.
Hours (if not days) of preparation and maintenance and not inconsiderable
expense all wasted... And now I’m on a five-day working week (as opposed to the three-day pattern of my
last job) finding time to set a replacement series is going to be
difficult.
Being on a five-day working
week meant I was off today (in lieu of
this coming Saturday). Originally I’d planned to go fishing but events
conspired against me. So I started off as I so often do by walking the dogs
round the park. As we came to the park gates there was a Sapphic pair of young
ladies openly snogging in front of the Jehovah’s Witnesses. I wondered if this
was some sort of protest; I watched for a few minutes, then left them to it. As
we went round the park both dogs missed seeing squirrels, Treacle ran in terror
from every other dog, and Fudge trailed twenty yards behind. Apart from the
lesbians it was much like any other dog walk.
We came home, I hung out
the washing, cleared dog poo, and then did something I’ve been meaning to do for
some time. My biggest garden water feature was a bit tired. The water was
smelly, there was grass growing up through it. I took it apart, cleaned it out
and reassembled it.
How easy that sounds.
Getting all the gravel up took some doing, and I
didn’t lose *too* much blood lifting
the various metal grilles that supported the gravel. I decided against taking
up the buried farm gate that holds it all in place. I then angled the water
feature to empty the reservoir, turned it all on and nothing happened. Eventually
I managed to fix the pump, and stagnant water gushed out. Right in my face.
There is a reservoir of a cubic metre of water, and it stank to high heaven. I
angled the thing to empty the reservoir and soon a swamp formed. So I revamped
everything so’s the water gushed into the little red dustbin and I used that to
chuck water onto the parched bits of the lawn. In the process I nearly broke a
toe, and actually broke the little red dustbin. We’ve had that little red
dustbin for years. It was originally "My Boy TM"’s
toybox. I was rather sad to find I’d broke it.
Eventually the reservoir was emptied. I
re-filled it with the hose, and bunged in a bottle of citrus bleach.
Grilles went back in place, gravel went
back, and Fudge was
soon playing with it. I was a little worried about the bleach, but it is so
diluted now it is less bleachy than a swimming pool.
I then got the bits of
decking I sawed up on Sunday and screwed them together into planters. There was
a minor problem in that my sawing had been a tad iffy, but what is a home-made
planter without rustic charm?
I got the sides of the
first one (sort of) together when my
new electric screwdriver gave up the ghost. It is only good for forty-eight
screws on one charge (bit like me, really).
So I set it charging and
scoffed a spot of lunch whist watching Sunday’s episode of “Poldark”. It was rather good if you like
that sort of thing. Personally I do, but I know I’m in the minority.
After an hour there was
some charge back in the screwdriver so I made a start of assembling the second
planter. Just as the screwdriver ran out I hit on this frankly genius idea of
taking the charger outside and charging the thing whilst I was using the drill
to make pilot holes. It was an idea which worked. I got the second planter
together. There was a minor hiccup when I realised what I’d sawed for the bases
wouldn’t fit, but I sawed up some more spare wood, and all was good.
A lick of paint, and they
were ready to go.
By the time I’d then pulled
weeds out of shingle, pushed shingle about, pruned back next door’s jungle,
re-potted my antirrhinums and had a cuppa it was 7pm. My original idea was to
have done with the garden by mid-day.
"er indoors TM" came home with curry. I deserve that…
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