So, the weekend came and it has nearly gone.
Friday was a normal day for us. With next door let out and a tenant about to move in some serious thought had to be given to the fact that the fire in there does not work. A few weeks ago I ordered a flue liner and Phil turned up bright and early to fit the offending device. Central heating drained and log stove removed we were ready for some action.
This of course required a Green Goddess for ladders and miscellaneous kit and fairly soon the liner wasn't going down the chimney. Much swearing and shining torches up the hole revealed a serious obstruction. Much ramming with various bits of fire engine tools produced a dull rumble and cascade of debris into the living room. With that cleared we had a clear chimney.
Well except the brick that stuck out into it a bit of course. So instead of feeding the flue pipe down the chimney we had to feed it up from the bottom. This required much swearing straining and running up and down ladders but it worked.
Whats more the stove, when refitted displayed proper draw and it was soon putting down an impressive amount of heat. So much in fact that the bath in next door had to be tested last night and jolly lovely it was too.
This was just as well as most of the day had been given over to mechanicalism, going into the field I found that the hayter had shredded it's drive belt. Then herself announced that the strimmer starter had snapped it's string. Into town for me then. Looking back i think i should have guessed when the young lad in the hire centre wanted to book the strimmer in not repair it that there might have been some issues with technical competence. When he was struggling using a set of circlip pliers bells really should have been ringing loud.
But anyway the strimmer was "repaired" and home I came well i tried to. Someone had called for a round the county cycle ride and sure enough it was "cyclists thousands of em" going up the road. Now I have no objection to cycleology but why ride two abreast on narrow country lanes when there is a car behind you?
But anyway strimmer home and off to get a belt for the Hayter. This was a cycle avoiding dice with doom as they seemed to be all going towards the mower spares shop. It obviously wasn't my day as another spotty young Herbert when told what I wanted gave me the wrong belt. One that was nearly but not quite long enough. Of course I didn't know this until I had gotten home. If driving out was unnerving, driving back against the flow was positively exciting. In the end I put my hazards on in an attempt to attract the attention of the head down and peddle like hell merchants who seemed to miss flying over the bonnet by millimetres every so often.
So having had some at home and swearing time with the Hayter it was back on the road and head for the mower shop with myriad cyclists laying on the entertainment. Except of course for one small change, this time the car was being driven by a student who really felt that we were wasting valuable gardening time. This produced a fairly brisk driving style which mixed with hundreds of cyclists not at all. Of course no cyclists were hurt in the making of this journey but it was a bit seat of the pants stuff.
So at last it was home and time to Hayterise the bottom field. The big old hayter really struggled with grass that should have been mowed a few times already this year. Silly operator should have noticed that he had the height set on scalp really. Job done though - a field mowed.
The strimmer though, expired, the starter went home, examination revlealed that the "techician" had failed to replace the circlip correctly causing the starter mechansim to trash itself.
Then it was time to quality control the new bathroom next door, luxuriate in copious really hot water. Could feel the stress releasing from tired old muscles, it was pretty cool really except it wasn't it was lovely and hot.
The morning broke and it was a case of off again.
Mowing grass around our little proto forest something that will be a lovely piece of woodland for us to leave to the world. A mix of willow ash and beech that will be quite lovely in a few years, I wish we had started it 10 years earlier. Mowed a lot of grass to help the trees along.
This was followed by a serious outbreak of chainsaw. Blimey this is the all action lifestyle!
Around us working ourselves to death was a welcome dose of teenager. We have Bethan Branwen and their partners home this weekend. With D's and a Gwion thrown in a lot was achieved by teamwork. The grass cut yesterday has been barrowed to cover the potatoes and the mound been covered in black plastic. Several previous weeks of wood has been chopped barrowed and stacked. Our woodpile is looking good.
The house bustled with teenies we have missed a lot. So much bustling we decided to escape to the pub for a couple of hours.
R
Friday was a normal day for us. With next door let out and a tenant about to move in some serious thought had to be given to the fact that the fire in there does not work. A few weeks ago I ordered a flue liner and Phil turned up bright and early to fit the offending device. Central heating drained and log stove removed we were ready for some action.
This of course required a Green Goddess for ladders and miscellaneous kit and fairly soon the liner wasn't going down the chimney. Much swearing and shining torches up the hole revealed a serious obstruction. Much ramming with various bits of fire engine tools produced a dull rumble and cascade of debris into the living room. With that cleared we had a clear chimney.
Well except the brick that stuck out into it a bit of course. So instead of feeding the flue pipe down the chimney we had to feed it up from the bottom. This required much swearing straining and running up and down ladders but it worked.
Whats more the stove, when refitted displayed proper draw and it was soon putting down an impressive amount of heat. So much in fact that the bath in next door had to be tested last night and jolly lovely it was too.
This was just as well as most of the day had been given over to mechanicalism, going into the field I found that the hayter had shredded it's drive belt. Then herself announced that the strimmer starter had snapped it's string. Into town for me then. Looking back i think i should have guessed when the young lad in the hire centre wanted to book the strimmer in not repair it that there might have been some issues with technical competence. When he was struggling using a set of circlip pliers bells really should have been ringing loud.
But anyway the strimmer was "repaired" and home I came well i tried to. Someone had called for a round the county cycle ride and sure enough it was "cyclists thousands of em" going up the road. Now I have no objection to cycleology but why ride two abreast on narrow country lanes when there is a car behind you?
But anyway strimmer home and off to get a belt for the Hayter. This was a cycle avoiding dice with doom as they seemed to be all going towards the mower spares shop. It obviously wasn't my day as another spotty young Herbert when told what I wanted gave me the wrong belt. One that was nearly but not quite long enough. Of course I didn't know this until I had gotten home. If driving out was unnerving, driving back against the flow was positively exciting. In the end I put my hazards on in an attempt to attract the attention of the head down and peddle like hell merchants who seemed to miss flying over the bonnet by millimetres every so often.
So having had some at home and swearing time with the Hayter it was back on the road and head for the mower shop with myriad cyclists laying on the entertainment. Except of course for one small change, this time the car was being driven by a student who really felt that we were wasting valuable gardening time. This produced a fairly brisk driving style which mixed with hundreds of cyclists not at all. Of course no cyclists were hurt in the making of this journey but it was a bit seat of the pants stuff.
So at last it was home and time to Hayterise the bottom field. The big old hayter really struggled with grass that should have been mowed a few times already this year. Silly operator should have noticed that he had the height set on scalp really. Job done though - a field mowed.
The strimmer though, expired, the starter went home, examination revlealed that the "techician" had failed to replace the circlip correctly causing the starter mechansim to trash itself.
Then it was time to quality control the new bathroom next door, luxuriate in copious really hot water. Could feel the stress releasing from tired old muscles, it was pretty cool really except it wasn't it was lovely and hot.
The morning broke and it was a case of off again.
Mowing grass around our little proto forest something that will be a lovely piece of woodland for us to leave to the world. A mix of willow ash and beech that will be quite lovely in a few years, I wish we had started it 10 years earlier. Mowed a lot of grass to help the trees along.
This was followed by a serious outbreak of chainsaw. Blimey this is the all action lifestyle!
Around us working ourselves to death was a welcome dose of teenager. We have Bethan Branwen and their partners home this weekend. With D's and a Gwion thrown in a lot was achieved by teamwork. The grass cut yesterday has been barrowed to cover the potatoes and the mound been covered in black plastic. Several previous weeks of wood has been chopped barrowed and stacked. Our woodpile is looking good.
The house bustled with teenies we have missed a lot. So much bustling we decided to escape to the pub for a couple of hours.
R
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment