Do Not Press

I've been on Blogiday.

It's like a holiday, but just from blogging.  Obviously all the other many and various on-line communication systems I use were being hammered regularly, but I never quite got round to feeling like writing anything on here.  I blame Twitter.  If it takes more than 140 characters I can't manage it these days.  Attention span of oooh look!  A squirrel!

Anyway. How is everyone? Not been swept away in the floods, or the gale force winds, or the rains of ash and blood we've been having this summer?  Not yet, at least, I hope.

We've been very busy here at WithaY Acres.  Once all the horrible, complicated but not TOO* expensive plumbing issues were finally resolved we were able to get the back garden into some semblance of order again.  There's still a stack of stuff out there which needs to be found a home, but we're definitely winning.  Mr WithaY's new workshop was completed this week, with some very smart custom-made work benches in there, and all the electric sockets any man could ever need, including a massive "don't you touch that red button now, Father Dougal" for his lathe.

Every time I go in there it draws my eye, compelling me to step closer, to reach out one finger and just have a little go. I will press it one day, I just know it.  It's big and red and looks EXACTLY like something from an old sci-fi movie to stop the launch of a spaceship with bare moments to spare.

In my head.

The other end of the garage is now a proper rain-, bird- and mouse-proof pantry, complete with freezer and ample storage for cooking stuff, pots, pans, jars and so on.  It even has a little double-glazed window, which makes it feel like a Wendy house.  We still need to finalise the "moving stuff around and optimising the space" thing - I want all the giant vices and boxes of carpentry tools out, for a start - but we're very nearly there.

Just as well, as I have a visit from the Environmental Health lady from the Council next week.

She's coming to inspect the kitchen, which has recently been registered as somewhere that will be producing food for commercial use - i.e. cooking for other people for money - and as a result our downstairs doors have blossomed with dog-proof gates in the last week.  I've washed the floor more often than ever before, and all the corners that previously housed collections of esoteric kitchenware have been emptied and cleaned out thoroughly.

I've also started my new part time job, which I am enjoying very much indeed.  It fits very handily around the rest of my life, there's a four minute commute (by foot) and the people I work with are lovely.  So, a fine result.

Can I just say that a four-minute commute on foot is about a billion times nicer than a three-hour one involving a car, a train, a bus and the London rush hour?

If I can find another local part-time job (about 15-20 hours per week) I'll be made up.  Until then, I am enjoying having lots of time to spend with Mr WithaY and the dog.

This morning we all went for a long walk.

I took some photos:

Walking up the hill to the woods, admiring the impressive sky.  Hello trees,  Hello clouds.

The woods themselves were dark and pretty muddy. The dog loved it.  She's very good off the lead, and comes back when we call her, which is more than our last one did most of the time.  Someone told me "Labradors are born half-trained, Spaniels die half-trained" which I rather like.

The river, looking just lovely in the sunshine.  There were some swans but they got a bit lairy when they saw me staring at them, so I thought I'd better not try and get a photo in case they broke my iPhone with a single blow of their wing.  They hate the Paparazzi, do swans.

Mr WithaY insisted - INSISTED - that this was a path.  Yes, yes, yes, it really is.  Stop moaning.  Crawl under that log, then just scramble over this bramble thicket, then through the bog and nettle patch.  It's very straightforward.

He and the dog nimbly hopped and pranced off through the greenwood, I lumbered after them, mud dragging at my wellies, nettles lashing my face, brambles snagging my clothes. It was great.

We're so outdoorsy.

He's off for another weekend of Bushcrafting, I am going to work, and to a party, and will chill with the dog. I might even get some sewing started. I bought a load of fabric and patterns the other week, but have yet to cut anything out.  It's my least favourite part of a sewing project, cutting out, especially if I have to cut the pattern out too.  Once it's all cut out I love to get on and sew it all together, but the start of it puts me off.

Plus I will have to make sure the dog can't wander in and lay down to sleep on top of whatever I am doing. She does like to sleep on top of things - my feet, Mr WithaY's feet, a heap of freshly-ironed clothes on the bedroom floor, a carelessly dropped towel - if it's on the floor it will end up with a small black dog snoozing atop it.

The hoover is earning its keep these days, I can tell you.



*Under £500, thankfully.  And they did a good job of tidying up afterwards, too.

The Woods. Different ones.

Another weekend, another visit to the Outside.  Brrr.  Sky.  Trees.  Weather of all descriptions.

Mr WithaY was away all last week, on the final instalment of his 10-month training course, which will (assuming his portfolio is accepted) provide him with an excellent bushcraft instructor's qualification.  He's worked really hard at it for almost a year, and I am tremendously proud of him.

Sunday was billed as the Families Day, and the friends and families of the trainees were invited to go along and spend the day doing various bushcrafty things.  We were asked to bring a picnic.  I got up early, packed the picnic and headed off.  According to my satnav, it would take about an hour and a half to get there, and Mr WithaY had asked me to try and be there as close to 1000 as possible, as the day was due to kick off at about 1030-ish.

I had a very pleasant and uneventful journey, finding the location (almost) first time, where Mr WithaY met me with black fingernails, a five day woodsmoke aura and a huge grin on his face.

We made our way along a rutted muddy track (in a LandRover...well, there was a picnic to carry) to a seemingly featureless bit of woodland.  We'd arrived.

Mr WithaY proudly gave me a tour of the site.  And now I shall do the same for you.

A couple of the teaching areas, and the tea point.  They don't have a water cooler to stand around and chat, but the giant kettle did the job nicely.

I had tea.  In the woods.

Look.  Outdoor tea.  From some sort of metal tea-bucket.

This is a view of the kitchen.  There, far away, under that tarpaulin.  When I arrived, they were all washing up after a giant fry-up fat-boy breakfast, apparently.

Anyway, tea drunk and tour completed, more people arrived and the day kicked off in fine style.  I had a go at starting a fire using a bowdrill.

Fail.

It was very interesting to watch other people doing it though, and most of them managed to at least get some smoke, if not actual fire, so the chaps doing the instructing were pleased.

Then I went and had a go at making damper bread.  This is a very simple bread dough which you wrap around a stick and bake over the fire.  I made mine - made it a bit too wet, unfortunately - but I got it wrapped and placed over the fire, and wandered off to see what Mr WithaY was up to.

We chatted for a bit, and he asked what I'd had a go at.  I said "I'm making damper bread."

"Where is it?" he enquired.

"Cooking..." I replied.

"Yeah.  You need to go and watch it.  Make sure it doesn't burn."

Gah.

Anyway, I had added cinnamon and sugar to the dough, so in fact it is simply caramelising nicely.  Nom nom nom.

Here are some other people not burning their damper bread.

One of the trainees' family included a teeny baby.  They constructed a fantastic Bushcraft Baby Rocker device.

Every so often one of the parents wandered over and gave it* a gentle push, and she slept happily for ages in there.

Anyway, here's my damper bread, proudly held aloft before vanishing into my gaping  maw.

The picnic was a success.  Several years ago, when we both still had "proper" jobs, and therefore disposable income, we bought a ridiculously fancy picnic basket/backpack thing.

It contains a cheeseboard, napkins, salt and pepper pots, one of those fancy cork things with a silver top to put in your bottle of wine to save some for later, and all the crockery and cutlery you might expect to need when you're eating off the floor.  In the woods.

And a picnic rug.  We're not savages.

I do like the combination of mud-encrusted bushcrafting chap's boot, and dainty gingham napkins.  We went for a stroll after lunch and collected up some logs that needed to be moved from one woodland glade to another, and then it was almost time for me to go home.

The weather was perfect. The first properly sunny day for bloody ages, which made it a thoroughly enjoyable time.

Mr WithaY and I walked back down the rutted muddy track to where all the cars were parked, I changed out of my wellies into sensible driving trainers, said our goodbyes and I set off for home.  Before I left, I pressed the GO HOME button on my satnav.

The anticipated arrival time seemed a bit optimistic, but I decided that it was just due to traffic. Or roadworks having finished.  Or goblins.  Let's just say I didn't give it much thought, and leave it at that.

I headed off through the little country lanes, listening to the radio, and enjoying the sunshine.  I drove some distance, several times thinking  "I don't remember coming along this road on the way here..."

I have a bit of a track record re: navigating, though, so I suppressed my anxiety and put all my faith in my satnav.

Schoolboy error.

I had been driving for about half an hour, and still hadn't seen any signs to where I thought I was headed, and then suddenly I was off the tiny back road meandering through the pretty country villages, and on the A3, heading for London.  I swore.  Apparently I was on the Hog's Back, where there are no places to turn around.  My satnav was still insisting that I was heading in the right direction.

I did not believe it.  

Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, I then went into the Hindhead Tunnel.  Readers, I had never heard of such a thing before, but I assure you it is a very, very long tunnel indeed.  I had to drive through it, with my radio and satnav both cutting out, the message on the display screen simply stating "Satellite Not Located" in a blunt refusal to help.

Once out the other side, I turned down the first side street I found, pulled over and looked at my satnav.

Readers, a valuable  lesson:

When you press the GO HOME button, please ensure that you have previously programmed it to point to your home.  If you have failed to do this, it will default, and send you to the satnav factory's home, somewhere in central London.

I arrived home some considerable time later.

Let's never speak of this again.




*The seat thing, not the actual baby.  That would have been unkind.

Ear slugs

It seems as though winter has remembered what it's supposed to be doing, and we have had a much colder couple of days over the weekend.  Heavy frost, even.  Alright for me, I was snug at home with an abundant supply of tea, cake and duvets.  Mr WithaY, on the other hand, was living in the woods for a week, sleeping in a hand-made bender for at least one night.

Not, as I hoped, a wooden facsimile of the wise-cracking Futurama star, but a rude shelter crafted from sticks and tarpaulins.  Apparently it was "bloody cold" and a slug fell in his ear.  He said he removed it "immediately" which was a relief.

Ah, life in the wild.  I'm glad I'm only BY the woods, and not actually attempting to live in them.

Ah, slugs.

Years ago, when I was living in my teeny little student house in Winchester, Mr WithaY used to come and visit at weekends.  One night, one chilly damp night, I asked him to fetch me a glass of water from the kitchen.  The kitchen was downstairs, and it got visited by slugs.  I had stuffed all the cracks and ingress holes I could find with paper to try and keep them out.  I had put salt on the floor to stop them coming in. I had even, on the advice of a probably mental friend, put garlic on the floor to offend the slimy bastards.

Nothing worked, and most mornings I came downstairs to find slug trails all over the place...on the floor, up the walls, on the windows...it was revolting.

This particular night, Mr WithaY scampered downstairs to fetch the glass of water (he was young and in love, so was eager to please) and I heard an anguished cry of "Oh God NOOOOOOOO!"

I knew exactly what he'd trodden on with his bare feet.

I've been busy while he's been away, which has been very pleasant.  I hadn't realised quite how easy it could be to become isolated when you don't go out to work, and a few days of bad weather can make it very miserable.  Luckily for me, there are some fab people living in the village who don't mind me popping in to drink their tea and eat their biscuits every now and again.

Apart from socialising, I have been sewing.  And knitting.  And baking.  I made a chocolate cake as I had a mate coming over for tea one day, and it worked rather excellently, though I say so myself.  It's a cake with no flour in it, so it is potentially very mousse-y if you undercook it, but even if you do that, it's lovely.  It's made with dark chocolate and butter melted together, and sugar, eggs and vanilla, whisked up till it's huge and fluffy, all mixed together, then baked in the oven.  Nom nom nom.

I might make some more this week.

I've also been pruning things in the garden.  Roses, the crabapple tree and the flowering trees at the side of house  have all been chopped up tidily to within an inch of their lives.  Hopefully they'll all revive in time for the Spring.  We've already got a crocus in flower in the lawn, which is ridiculously early, and the snowdrops in sheltered corners are in flower.

Business developments are creeping along, but I'd rather we get everything sorted out now than discover in 3 months time that we didn't make the right decision, and have to start again.

The Big Bhangra

I am downloading bhangra music from iTunes. Tonight we are having a Curry Extravaganza, with people coming round, and naan bread and mango chutney and everything. I decided that something more appropriate than AC/DC, Chris and Thomas or Lynyrd Skynyrd from my iPod, or Pink Floyd, depressing Gregorian chant or 1950s do-wop music from Mr WithaY's would be nice.

I know nothing about bhangra, other than that when we have visited our lovely Indian friends, or been up to Southall to go shopping with them, I have enjoyed listening to it. So I more or less randomly downloaded a few albums, after typing "bhangra" into the iTunes shop seach box.

I am still toying with the idea of downloading "Bhangra Bloody Bhangra", a tribute to Black Sabbath. It has a certain appeal.

Other news:  We decided to put off going to the Wood Fair till Sunday, which means it will probably be raining when we go, but we have wellies and raincoats. I assumed we were putting off today's trip becasue of the upcoming Curry Extravaganza, but no, it is apparently because tomorrow is the day they are running didgeridoo workshops. Thankfully Mr WithaY is not planning to take his along, but I am sure it will require more than my mere mortal strength to stop him joining in when he finds the workshop.

Also, I have successfully uploaded a couple of sound files of Mr WithaY playing his didgeridoo. Well, one is of him playing it "properly" and the other is him trying to impersonate wild animals of the Bush. I leave you to decide if he is successful.

I think I need to add them as a special stand alone linky thingy though, as I can only upload pictures or weblinks here.  Gah.

Wood

As I have a few days off work, and therefore have more time at my disposal than usual, I thought I'd post up the pictures of the weekend's Wood-related excitements.

All in the heart of the Wiltshire/Dorset borders area. Lovely.



It was a glorious day, which meant that we wandered around for a couple of hours in perfect autumn sunshine, not too much mud underfoot, and the relaxing sound of chainsaws all around us.

So. This is where we were:



There were lots of people doing stuff in the woods:





Making great stuff out of, well, wood.



There were some scary bits of wood-gripping machinery.



Also many people bodging, making chair legs, dibbers, rounders bats and other such long thin things.



We saw the Great Bustard Project people, which is where I met the dog who I voted "Most Likely To Win A Horseshoe Bat Look-Alike Contest".





See?

And when I scooched down to take his picture he got really excited and jumped up to say hello, letting out the most evil smelling fart I have ever been unfortunate enough to encounter. Bastard.

There were a lot of people doing stuff with willow. Animals:





And coffins. I am getting one of these*. Bloody great idea.



And, just to demonstrate my juvenile and reprehensible mindset, this made me laugh quite a lot:



A grand day out. There was even a stand selling toasted sandwiches which were really excellent. If Manuel wants to do a review, I can recommend the cheese, ham and pineapple without reservation.

If you are in the area next year, go along.


*For after I die, not just as a talking point. Or to sleep in.

Hurty paw

Gah! Am typing with one finger encased in huge plasters, after almost slicing the tip off with the world's sharpest knife. Arse. It was so sharp that I didn't realise I'd cut myself for a few moments...it made a horrible "meat slicing" noise and I thought I'd cut the washing up sponge thingy. But no. It was me.

Bled for absolutely ages. Was starting to think I'd need to go to Casualty and get stitched, until I remembered that I have no idea where our nearest Casualty unit is...might entail a 50 minute drive to Salisbury. The strategic application of a wet tea towel and some elevation* sorted it out.

Other news: Been to the Wood Fair at the Larmer Tree Gardens today.

I know, I know. Cheese, Wood, what don't we see at Fairs round here? Took pictures, which I will share in due course.

On the way home we called in to look at carpets for the bedrooms and stairs (how much more exciting can this get, you wonder?), then went and bought teak oil and woodstain. And THEN we repainted the shed, a seat, a fence (and my camellias) and oiled all the garden furniture ready for it to go away over the winter. What busy bees we are.

Off out tonight for supper, watching the rugby with some of our lovely neighbours. Which will be nice, as we're both knackered now after all our painting and oiling activity, so somebody else making us a meal is very welcome.

Still unbelievably tired though, and feeling a bit low and weepy as a result which is a shame. Yesterday was a significant family anniversary, which made the day feel a bit odd and sad. So, a few glasses of wine and some cheerful company is just the ticket tonight.

Even with a big bandaged finger. And green woodstain all over my arms.

*i.e: holding my arm over my head, rather than climbing onto the roof of the shed. Anyone walking past our house at the time might have concluded that we are Nazis, though.

Swingers

Remembered one of the conversations in the pub.....

One of our lovely neighbours works in the woods, all over the place. He was talking to another neighbour who works with the police, doing all the very unpleasant stuff associated with scenes of crime, who was enjoying a delicious-looking supper.

They were talking about the particular area of woodland where Neighbour 1 had been working that day.

Neighbour 1 extolled the beauty of the area.

Neighbour 2 (tucking into his supper): Yes, we've found a few people there.

Neighbour 1: Oh? Lost, were they?

Neighbour 2: No. Suicides. (demolishing his chips with gusto) Couple of cars, with hosepipes. Bloke with a bag on his head.

Neighbour 1 (a little crushed): Oh

Neighbour 2: Oh yeah, and swingers.

Neighbour 1: Swingers? (looking faintly distressed now) As in....

Neighbour 2: Swinging from trees...

I love living here. It's an education.

Location, location, location

I love living in our village. Mr WithaY was walking over to a neighbour's the other afternoon when he spotted one of the local young mums, pushing two of her sons down the road in a wheelbarrow. They are apparently much easier to use than a pushchair.

Haven't seen that being profiled in the weekend Telegraph as a bloody "countryside" trend yet but it's only a matter of time.

We have a fab village here. We have, either in the village or very close by:

1) A petrol station, incorporating a post office and off licence. And a cashpoint, although you have to pay to get your money out. Still, it's handy if you are skint on a Friday and on your way to:

2) The pub! Hurrah! Does great food, loads of the locals drink in there and it is remarkably handy for my house. And they serve beer from:

3) The local brewery! Which also sells barrels if you're having a party, which is handy.

4) The farm shop. One of the best in the country, sells all kinds of funky organic stuff, including the truly sublime Montezuma's chocolate. Mmmm. Oh, and trout.


5) The airfield. Not something I use very often, but apparently the guys with planes find it a bonus.

6) A church. Been there a few times, very pretty, friendly and within walking distance.

7) Hills. A wide variety of hills for walking about on.

8) Woods. Bloody lovely ones, at that. Bluebells and everything. Marvellous.

Out and About

Am home now after a few days around and about. Took Friday off work to go and see my Mum, make sure she is ok after her trip to hospital. She was very well, so that was great. Slight change of plan in that my bestest mate came with me down to Sussex, and the two of us ended up babysitting for my youngest nephew whilst Grandma and his big sister went to a funeral at church. My niece is in the choir so had permission to be out of school for the day so she could sing at the funeral service.

So, the three of us (me, my mate and 3-yr-old nephew) had a jolly time together. We played "cars" - a game of depth and strategy which entails driving small cars around on the floor, making the appropriate noises. When we got fed up with that, we watched the Johnny Depp version of "Charlie and and the Chocolate Factory" on DVD, which rather to my surprise I thoroughly enjoyed. Although I have to point out that the usually beautiful Mr Depp bore a more than passing resemblance to Michael Jackson which was frankly disturbing. Mum and my lovely niece arrived home after the service which they said went well, we had a cup of tea, and then me, my mate and my niece all went into town to have a look around.

Chichester is fabulous. If you've never been, go. You can park on the edge of town, then walk all over the city centre because it is almost entirely pedestrianised. I remember when that was done, at the end of the 1970s, not long after we moved there. There were all kinds of gloomy predictions about how it spelled the end of civilisation as we knew it, death to all traders in town, fleeing of local shoppers to Portsmouth, loss of the city centre vibe...you know the sort of stuff.

Well it is now abundently clear that all that was a load of bollocks. Chichester is beautiful, interesting, quiet and safe to wander around in, and has about the best variety of shops you could hope to find in a small cathederal city. And the Bishop's Palace Garden is lovely. Go there and admire the fish some time.

We then went to the world's finest bakery, which my Mum reckons is owned by Raymond Blanc and loaded up with bread and pastries, then back home to drink more tea, eat cakes and chat. Bloody great. I had the best almond croissant I have ever had in my life, so if Mr Blanc is involved I am not surprised.

I drove back to my mate's house the back way, i.e. not down the motorway; the woods lining the route were dark and full of bluebells. It was glorious.

Driving home this afternoon was glorious as well. The only downside to the weather being so fantastic is that the car is filthy. Not just "slightly dusty", I mean "can't see through the windscreen" filthy. Might wash it tomorrow.

And now I am happy to be home, looking forward to a night in with Mr WithaY.

Hurrah.

Currently Listening : Love This City By The Whitlams Release date: By 04 November, 1999