My darling the slave driver.....

No one would ever describe my beloved, the mistress of all we owe money on as a tyrannical slave driver. No that would be quite suicidal..

But, every so often the command comes to jump and the only query can ever be how high.

So, out of bed she bounded this morning in action mode. Firewood cutting was announced to an audience who did not quite burst into excited cheering.

We nearly avoided it, the chain saw would not start but unfortunately I quickly discovered a blocked air filter, thinking about it maybe leaving it for two years without cleaning it might be stretching things a little.

So the morning was whiled away with the chainsaw, well some of it was anyway. The rest was spent axeing with my trusty Elwell. the kids were delegated to barrowing whilst she undertook the skilled job of constructing the stack.

Lunch time would have offered a brief respite had she not remembered that we need to swap wheels around on the Iveco. So equipped with various jacks, stands and my big socket set, the girls and I set to. Branwen was away last week on a geography field trip which in turn meant outdoor kit sourced form an MOD dealer. She has taken the stuff off since, I am sure she has, just maybe I never saw her then.

But anyway my "army" and I set too. Trouble with the Turbo Daily is it has such amazing lock it wears the tyres out in an odd way. The only way to stop it being to swap tyres round the various wheels periodically.

The IVECO is not as big as a Green Goddess, but those wheels are a lot heavier than a mini and the wheel nuts need to be on the tighter side of tight.

So anyway much sweating and profanity and we had the job done.

Time for rest then, errr not. having rushed us through lunch the management announced our newly devised wood shed was not quite full enough so we could cut more wood.

Unfortunately the chain saw started fine and of course a clear air filter means it runs for longer between refills of two stroke. An impressive mountain of wood could mean only one thing. I had to get the axe out and split it all so the kids could barrow it and she could stack it to her satisfaction.

Still every day must end and here I sit with a cold orange juice, there being no beer in the fridge.

Worn out giving so many orders, management has retired to the bath. I would get in the shower but don't think I have enough strength left to stand up against the jets of water.

But all is not lost. With the strategic wine stocks worryingly low she has announced I can go shopping to France soon. So long of course as she can come with me and chose the bathroom suite she has decided I want to fit in our new house should this deal ever come off.

R