It has been a long time since I posted so there are quite a few incidents to fess up to so let’s get them out of the way first….
Welsh women in the snow
There was that January day after the snow had fallen and the car park turned into an ice sheet. I had visions of ladies of a certain age being upended and scattering vegetables randomly across the snow. So early that morning I set about clearing the snow with a metal snow shovel. It had to be metal because it took a lot of graft to clear it. The snow was six inches deep and so cold you could stand on it without sinking into it.
No sooner I finished the car space and a path to the door when our friend who was volunteering in the shop immediately occupied the space. Naturally I asked her to move her car onto our drive so our customers could use it and she happily obliged. I then set about clearing another spot closer to the front door and no sooner had I finished the shoppers started to arrive. I guided our first customer of the day into the new space which she obligingly drove into and then drove out the other side! She jumped out onto thick ice and charged across the car park with her shopping bag under her arm without a thought for the weather. I tried to explain that I had cleared a space for her but she shrugged it off totally focused on getting her shopping.
As she disappeared into the shop another 4×4 arrived and the lady driver ignored both spaces and again she jumped out onto the ice no problem. While she was shopping I started to dig a path back to her car and dig around the car thinking that perhaps this would be a preferred spot. As I did so Ceri arrived ignoring all the spaces and parking on virgin snow on the other side of the car park. She totally poo-poo’d my safety first efforts and strode confidently across the ice. The day continued much in the same vein and the first spot I had cleared got my friend to abandon was not used at all that day.
In the end I had to admit defeat and accept that Welsh mountain women think absolutely nothing of a bit of the white stuff. They are clearly hardy single-minded beast as tough as old boots. No wonder so many of us Welsh men have chosen to look abroad and seek English wives for their more gentle and compliant nature. However, would my fellow Cymro with similar plans please be warned that from the author’s own experience, this general rule apparently does not apply to ladies from Sussex. This area is inhabited by the descendants of the South Saxons who, led by Ælle, conquered the area using brute force in 477. These women appear not to have lost any of their early Saxon aggression over the millennia and indeed it can be even worse if you marry one from a line interbred with a good measure of Scottish Highlander – believe me.
Belligerent Bees
Then there was the day last Summer when I had on my nitrile gloves and was happily ensconced deep in the bowels of the chicken shed cleaning out the unmentionable stuff. Just then Adrian the beekeeper popped his head in and asked me for help moving his heavy bee keeping equipment down to the hives using my little tractor. Not willing to sacrifice another pair of nitrile gloves I figures I could always wash off the steering wheel when I returned.
While he unloaded I sat blissfully in the tractor in the sunshine waiting for him to finish his task. At that point the peace was shattered by fierce high-pitched buzzing sound in my ears and I realised I was under attack. With adrenaline flowing through my veins I took a millisecond to weigh up the two options of fight or flight and be of good Welsh stock I chose flight, another millisecond went by as I stupidly contemplated jumping on the tractor and driving off, then I abandoned my machine and ran as fast as I could 200 yards back toward the house waving my arms around frantically to encourage the bees to return to their hives. Unfortunately, my fat ageing body had reached the limit of its long distance running capability and I suddenly remembered that bees can fly at 20mph for 3 miles. Like a cornered rat I had to go for the only remaining option – fight! One of the bees was lodged in my hair and was digging fast towards my scalp. I furiously ruffled my hair in the hope of getting the bee but quickly felt the inevitable sting right through the wretched nitrile glove into my little finger. Ouch!!
The bee fell to the ground presumably dying happy in the knowledge he had inflicted a dire wound on his enemy. I took in a deep breath thankful that the war was over and peace had returned. Then it slowly dawned on me – nitrile glove? The same gloves I had been using minutes earlier to pick up the chicken poo. The war was over and I wasn’t feeling necessarily like the victor. I looked in Adrian’s direction for sympathy but all I could see was him doubled over in laughter. At least I brightened up someone’s day.
There are many more stories but I am beginning to suffer from palpitations at their recall so let’s move on to the news….
The borehole continues to supply absolutely wonderful clear water that tastes great piped to the whole house. We have kept the water company supply to wash the car, jet wash the paths and water the lawns and as an emergency back up. I now have a lot of friends who turn up with large water bottles to use for their own drinking supply so it is very useful to have unlimited supplies on tap.
The big project at the start of the year was to finally get on with building our club house. The idea is that our loyal shoppers will get a club card entitling them to casual use of the shed for teas and coffees and to attend various events we may stage.
Note:
This is the third log cabin we have had from Astwood Log Cabins. Chris, Martin and Dylan were just fantastic and the cabin was built to a standard way beyond our expectations.
The first event took place last week – a gong bath (don’t ask me what that is but apparently there was no water or nakedness involved and it seemed to keep quite a number of women of a certain age happy for a few hours so no complaints from me).
What else might happen? I don’t know. Let’s see what our eccentric customers come up with as ideas but cookery and art classes have been mooted and the odd folk concert. Can’t wait. Just a bit more oiling preserving and polishing to finish off first.
Bird Table blues: I had the bright idea of putting bird tables down the side of the log cabin as I figured the birds would get used to people inside the cabin and give us all a close up view of their antics whilst we were sitting in the warm. I put corn on the tables to encourage them but four weeks went by without a single bird showing any interest. You can imagine my excitement this morning when I finally got this picture of the first bird at one of my tables. Well you have to start somewhere!!