The kind of sneaky wet that penetrates the house and turns the land into a quagmire of sticky clay.
Just the moment, in fact, to bring the digger in.
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Self-Sufficiency in Style July diary
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It is wet as we write. Soaking, sloppy,
slimy, sliveringly wet.
The kind of sneaky wet that penetrates the house and turns the land into a quagmire of sticky clay. Just the moment, in fact, to bring the digger in. |
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Why do we need a digger? Well, we need a wall. We already have a bit, but alas not enough and not quite finished. This time we are building a wall, all in the interests of marital peace, to completely surround the house. 17,000 expensive bricks, and that's without the labour, the footings, gates and cappings. |
Unfinished |
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The Cherries |
Now I could be planning to keep Mrs P out, and I have to admit that the
idea had crossed my mind on the odd occasion.
It's not security either, well, not really. But it was the Morrello cherries that finally did it. |
| I was tempted when her sheep were found in
the living room, when her cow attempted to demolish the greenhouse and in
response to various other misdemeanours.
But the cherries really got to me. First the one-legged pheasant savaged them, then her bottle-fed lambs. Finally, Walter the cockerel was caught red-handed stealing the fruit. |
Her free range chickens are incompatible with my fruit and vegetables. |
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If good fences make good neighbours, just think what a nice high wall can
do for a marriage.
Walls, fences and hedges assume a new importance on a self-sufficient holding. |
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"One of us has to go, the cockerel or me." That's why we are building walls at the peculiarly named Hangman's Cottage, just to the south of Misery Corner. |
