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Self-Sufficiency in Style

october 2003 diary

Logs are brought up to the house and we light the wood-burner.

Garlic too, the cloves saved from this year's crop.

The string needs explanation. Our Rottweiler and cat are capable of a "Tom and Jerry" act across the raised beds. The string definitely discourages such activities. The cat can cope, well enough, and the dog has  learned to stick to the paths.

The only problem now comes when we look after our son's dog too. He leaves a trail of broken string when joining in the gymnastics. Fortunately, the cat retires to the stable for the duration of Buster's visit.

Buster is becoming enormous. We think his mother must have gone astray... with a Great Dane.

They were originally a crop from the New World and more popular than the potato in Europe for a time.

Most Europeans were very suspicious of potatoes and tomatoes at first. They correctly identified them as coming from the same family as the Deadly Nightshade.

Now, of course, popularity is reversed.

If we could only get our potato crop out of the rock hard soil!

Peas and broad beans do well in the tunnel and will be welcome in the spring.

We have had a good crop of melons and early peas and broad beans will be taking their place shortly.

Last year we lost our melons to rats before we realised what was going on. This year we were ready, but only caught a couple.

Something you do not expect to see in late October.

This month we reached our goal of being self-sufficient in beef, pork and lamb, fruit and vegetables, eggs and most dairy products. We have even managed to get some fresh trout by swapping.

We buy so little and now feed so many. It is a privilege to have achieved an objective that is fast fading into the pages of history all over the Western World. It is a good way to  move from a working life into  retirement.

Oddly enough, we celebrated by going out for a meal a couple of times, which only goes to show how contrary people can be. Our excuse was that it was a significant birthday for both of us.

As good as it looks.

A real home-made pie from your own pork is a farmhouse tradition that is almost extinct.

It is nice to be able to give our guests something rare and unforgettable.

Then it is time for the final run to the slaughter house.

Yes, I'm very well aware that such thoughts make many wince, but even the two vegetarians in the family agree that our animals are exceptionally well-treated.

We would prefer that those interested in animal welfare dealt with the factory farm abusers before they criticised those who simply maintain an ancient freedom - with integrity. The best meat comes from well treated animals.

The remaining lambs and the calf are to go.

An early start and a good deal of rushing about.

The mothers probably glad to see them go.

But they get out again...

A massive milk-fed animal: a frisky teenager driving his mother mad and becoming increasingly dangerous.

The writer was relieved to get him off the premises and away from Mrs P, who insisted on brushing his coat every day.

We will soon have the finest rose veal, beef if you like, and plenty of it.

It is nothing like the beef from a mature animal or the pathetic white veal produced by indoor rearing.

Then we get the bonus. Because of the drought, he has been taking all the milk from his mother; we can return to fresh milk every day and fresh butter, cheese and cream.

The quinces are picked - and turned into quince jam.

Said to be "an acquired taste" - an ominous description, we are plucking up courage to blet (rot) them, and have something new to try with home-made ice cream.

You can use it for a preserve or relish, but it will probably just become a treat for the pigs.

At the very end of the month, the animals take centre stage, once again.

Hello!

She seems to like being near the house. She has forgotten her calf and peers out to greet every passer-by.

In fact, Gladys is a pretty important cow.

Her little escapades have prompted a massive fraud enquiry and may have more impact on the future of the Crown of England than all the stories of "What the Royal Butler saw."

Her story has taken her fame to Ireland, the Pampas and the Canterbury Plains.

Take a moment, look at the pictures very carefully.

OK, we will tell you what is going on here.

The picture above shows her right ear-tag missing. You can just see the left one in the picture on the right. If you look carefully, you will see a halter. The writer is hanging onto the other end.

This is the equipment.

All British cows must have two ear-tags - Mad Cow regulations.

It isn't difficult and it does not seem to distress the cow, but you do have to screw up your courage.

It was when we noticed that one of Britain's top government veterinarians could not do the job three years ago, that we became suspicious and started asking questions.

Eventually our questions arrived, by a long circuitous route, through the Houses of Parliament, to arrive outside a famous door.

Prince Charles was inside.

You have all heard how the flap of a butterfly's wings in the Amazon can start a weather system that can turn into a hurricane.

"Catastrophe Theory", they call it, I think. How a small incident can spark world shattering events.

Aptly named.

Anyway, you can read all about it on Stop the World.

As the smallholders' year ends in the damp of an English Autumn; it just as suddenly starts once again.

Normally reserved, they obviously recognise him from last year.

He gave us a good crop of lambs. From four ewes - quads, triplets, twins and a single.

Late romance blossoms

  at an Autumnal Hangman's Cottage, just to the south of Misery Corner.