A week in parts

Some of you might be wondering about the silence, lets start with a game of serious catch up. The last post predicted a lovely weekend away and it was not far out.

The student god bless her on the Thursday said that she had a baaad feeling, things were going far too well.

Up to Aber I went in the company of Bruce with loads of her stuff packed in the T4 Bruce drove well and the meeting place was found so, I was in some high class Government meeting for the morning.  Half way through, my phone rang, so I put it on ignore. Then it rang again and again. The fourth time I told the meeting I had better answer and, sure enough it was the Police. They were looking for a missing person, last seen with one of ours. Worst of all, our lad was not answering the phone. 18 male has gone missing with 15 yo girl (15 is she? thanks for the heads up officer!) and he's not answering his phone so the Police were a bit worried. I was able to reassure the Officer everything would be fine, then I remembered how his phone was broken and he had gone to get a new one. No wonder it was going to answerphone then. I phoned the man in question and, sure enough, his phone was on answerphone, I left a message to call me back. Back into the meeting and the phone rang again, so outside and fairly soon everything was cleared up and the Police had sight of the body and calm was restored.  Proper old style Penole, life with some unexpected drama thrown in.       
 
So it was meeting over and a drive back to Penole with a speedy trundle in the afternoon to make the ferry.

The pair of us went  off happy. Except of course that whilst I had been away that the student had been dealing with two bob, her grand daughters and the arm she broke that day  "I have a bad feeling about this weekend" said she yet again.

I dismissed her thoughts immediately, we got in the van, time was a bit tight but we headed off to Plymouth feeling happy and quite a bit free.

The trip down had all the feature of  a good plan and we rolled like a happy pair of bunnies into the ferry terminal. My heart sank, there was some sort of rally going through Plymouth with a whole load of vehicles allegedly heading for Spain with everyone in fancy dress. I had seen this sort of thing before, great if you are in a lets stay up till 4 am carousing frame of mind. Deadly if you have had a hard day and just want to get to sleep.

So anyways, the student and I settled for a lovely meal in the restaurant, some sort of message was boomed over the Tanny while we were there, I was locked in discussion of the days events with herself and wasn't really listening, it was quite hard to hear anyway.     

So it was meal over and time for bed. Next morning I was really pleased to see BF had allowed us an extra hour before waking us. This was great! I could see lights outside so we were in harbour. A couple of coffees later and we were heading off the ferry. Disembarkation at Roscoff it pretty slick but this morning it seemed a bit slow for some reason. Anyway it wasn't too long before blinking and drowsy I rolled off the the ship into a terminal I didn't recognise which was a chaos of TV crews, press, Douane, Gendermes, Police National I think Uncle Tom Cobley was around as well.  I dare say our faces were models of amazed bewilderment, the student certainly looked surprised amused and bemused. There was no time to ask questions, we were hustled out of the place at great speed.

Without giving us any options, BF had put us on a ship in Plymouth, then disembarked us in the Naval Facility in Brest. On the same ship were a group of cyclists who were planning a quiet ride into Morlaix who now found themselves 60 miles or so from  their point of re-embarkation.
    
The crew of the Armorique had staged a 24 H strike and so we had been unable to berth in Roscoff, we were in Brest. This was no big issue for us, not even bothering with maps we set the squawk box on the dash, followed instruction and went to the house. 

Lunch was dealt with at "les trois marchands" the usual 4 course E11.00 affair.
  
Nothing came in on my phone, so mid afternoon we loaded the van with goodies and headed for home. We were particularly pleased, we had landed in town just as the "foire au vin" was on in the Intermarche. Some really attractive deals had been offered and we had fallen head over heels for temptation Might be some time before I needed to buy wine again. Moule were E1.50 a kilo so with a fridge fully loaded with goodies we were ready for the off.  8.30 ferry next morning so we were fully primed for a nice evening in Roscoff and a sleep in the van.    

A drive to Roscoff and a smell of rodent. The ferry should have been on it's way to Plymouth, instead it was tied up at the quay. Into the terminal and a see of very unhappy Irish people, the staff were, as usual, friendly and polite  We were able to determine that the crew had staged a 24 h walk out which the management had dealt with by locking them out. This being France the crew promptly occupied the ship.

This had the makings of turning into quite something, little did we know but the other crews, hearing what management had done were in the process of bringing the whole fleet into port and tying up.

The student and I "reluctantly" decided that the best thing to do was to go back to our house and see what happened.

Little did we know what a week we had ahead of us. 


  

Welcome back Perfecto

As well as my own children I have "inherited" another two from the students previous relationship.

Serenity and Perfecto which, incidentally are not their real names have generated a certain amount of frustrated exasperation over the years, when I was writing elsewhere mention that I was about to relate some anecdote about those two people would very often stop everything as they knew it was going to be a funny tale.

Of course there is a danger, you see mum often reads what step dad writes and also over the years a certain amount of friction has been generated by my views. Right up to and including invitations to go and sleep in the car. It is the truth you can criticise your own kids, the foster kids can be dealt with by ba simple trip to the district team with suitcases of all their wordlies in the car. Suggest a step child is a little out of line and a major diplomatic incident is potentially in store.

Anyway Perfecto has never figured too much in this narrative but today he has generated a certain amount of stress. I would immediately say it's not his fault, the first idiot and goodness he is in his own league of idiocy is the prime minister David Cameron. You might wonder how Cameron successfully spoilt my day and the truth is thus. A little while ago he decided that those who have to live on under 60 pounds a week because they won't take the jobs that don't exist anyway, have a life which is two easy. So he decided to toughen up by refusing to pay rent for them to have a flat, in future they would have a room.

So Perfecto had to downsize which meant clearing out his flat. Fortunately, there was never a suggestion I would have to do that. There was however a need to remove the students settee and chair she had leant perfecto, having a deal of experience of removing and on a tidal wave of innocence I set about the job.

Now of course it's not Perfectos fault his flat has a landlord. After Perfecto moved in landlord had bricked up one of the doors to the flat and decided to install a fire door in a corridor. None of this was his fault but it didn't get the settee out of the flat. First obstacle the kitchen door, which of course opened into the kitchen and thus involved getting the settee out whilst keeping it above the kitchen units which of  course perfecto had cleared of objects because he's good at planning things like that.

Did i mention the need to swing the settee through 90 degrees as it came through the door?

The normal way of doing this is standing the thing on it's which won't happen if there is a load of kitchen units in the way.  

Settees tend to be about 5 foot long, corridors about 3 foot wide, doors not much wider.

You might be ahead of me now. This was mission impossible but some how we achieved something that was simply impossible.

Of course miraculous is another thing. no matter what we did that settee was not going through the fire door. So the door was on the outside and I was on the inside, Branwen was on the outside and it took a little while to register that this meant it was her who needed to get tools and do something about making outside bigger.

A whip round of the tools in store really made me wish I had brought the Green Goddess - would have been out of there in a jiffy. The downside would have been a mess of smashed wood and masonry,  plan B then. Phone Phil the builder who turned up in a few minutes, by which time Branwen was well into the task of removing half the frame. Power tools make it so much quicker and soon he had removed the fire door in it's totality and let us out.

Then it was a simple matter of getting the settee into the van, it's not Perfectos fault the van isn't really a van it's a camper. So the bed had to be flat with the settee half way out the back door whilst someone put the seat on top of it, upside down, then shoved the ensemble into the van.

Fortunately, when I got home, Bethan and Harley were still here so I left getting it into the house to them.       

All I had to do was make sure all the paperwork for the various students grants were in on time - as in today.

Not a big call then

R 
        

Learning - time I did

we have just returned from a truly great weekend.

 A pub some miles from here had decided to stage a music do,said pub having a small campsite which costs 5 pounds a head a night.

The kids all declined to come meaning it was just the student and me in the trusty t4 heading up the m4.

First a diversion to the student mum then down to take in a lovely locally based festival which was really nice. Compact not crowded and little did we know the pubs resident chef is Michelin rated. No I don't mean he changes tyres in his spare time either, though he might, I'm not sure. So anyway we went we ate the most wonderful meal the bands were really great but..

I am into my 50's I should really have worked out that when you arrive at a festival and note it has 6 real ales in the bar in the field with another 11 on the bar inside and 2 draught ciders too, this should never ever be taken as a challenge.

I should also learn that all beers are brewed with yeast and there is going to be a slightly different one in any beer, this lot all has to go somewhere and soon so much beer was sloshing round in me that there was a whole raft of yeasts all looking for something to eat. Now with the varieties, they soon all found something that took their fancy and tucked in. Of course yeasts eating and fermenting away produce rather a lot of gas and last nigh the inside of that van sounded like someone was rolling round on a bed of whoopee cushions. At one stage the student was contemplating moving to sleep under the van or possibly in the bus shelter up the road.  Even though by the it was doing what Welsh weather does and raining.

She is still talking to me, but I think we might have an early night tonight, that was the other nice thing, the two of us being the only ones there, we retired at 11, when the bands were still playing but boxing clever I had parked close enough for us to be able to hear. Then, this morning with no one else to worry about we got up when we were ready and not when someone was hammering on the side of the van demanding a 3 course breakfast and any time in the next 5 minutes would do.

We took our big new awning then decided not to put it up, so there was another job we didn't need to do this morning. In fact it was a really good weekend for just the two of us, whats more - next weekend we are off to France, on our own then too.   
  

University of stress....

God spare us our children.

Branwen has headed North with a car laden with stress and furniture for her new home somewhere near Aber. Second years of course do not live in halls and are required to find their own, hers sounds just a trifle short of palatial.

A broom cupboard room with a door 4 walls and a ceiling. Really, given the caustic emmisions that she can generate a room should have full on ventilation with filtration and a flare off pipe but this one has nothing.

So of course off she went in a cloud of stress and Bihan her mothers C5.

Meanwhiles, we have run a few loads of fuel through the Stihl and much wood is now piled outside in the sun drying and being chopped by D our resident axe fan.

Bethan meanwhile is educating us all in stress as she tries to persuade the OU and it's fees paying branch that she is in need of help with money for her OU undergraduate course. Nothing can be simple and much harrumphing, stressed sighing, swearing and tearfullness is being evidenced. It's like having Serenity home.

Her mother, whose course is also in need of funding has finally worked out why hers has not cleared and much printing off of bank details will follow tonight.

Me, well I am fixated. I am trying to put it all behind me, forget next week means virtually all day in university, work and other places. Then - bliss, next weekend a ferry trip and peace and good food and probably a nice evening in Roscoff to finish.

Bliss in store, but for now it's stress in all directions.

R    

Tidy like

The weather has delivered even more water. You would not have thought there was more up there.

We have resorted to sheeting the wood down, we want it as dry as possible. A fair old bit has been cut - again. But today has been more of a tidy up day with lots taken down to recycle. With Tallie in his caravan his mum and I have been mining our way into his room uncovering long forgotten items and hidden gems.

Even more photos, we spent a whole night a couple of days ago digging through old photos, I wonder ho future generations will access their memories, we are a single generation who had wet film technology our fathers didn't and our children store everything  on sticks and disks some of which are allready obselete.

i wonder how they will record their times.

R    

Firewood cutting - the trailer for the big event.

To be fair to her, even the student does not advocate cutting wood in the rain. Whether that would be the case if she was somewhere else and not expected to help is another matter entirely but, with rain cascading out of the sky she looked out the window and announced managerially that we would not be using the chainsaw today.


 Relief all round then, settle down for some computerology. No, said she, we would "just" get some wood in ready. So I was duly sent to the wood yard where it turned out the woodman has a busy week ahead and has been busy so 8 cords of slab wood were sat in his yard.

Commandeering the students C5 estate and dragging Bruce away from watching doctor who on I player off I jolly well set.

"Fortunately", next door need some wood so the first two cords went there. Just, the rain as been torrential and with neither 4 wheel drive and not going fast enough to activate traction control, it was a struggle getting the C5 across the field, but anyway we did it.

Next load was ours and this is where it is quite worrying, even my yard is now so wet that the Citroen struggles to get traction to reverse the trailer into the bay. I can see me having to head down there and get all winters wood on the floor while conditions are still drivable.

The rain today had to be seen to be believed at times and even on the road, where mud had been washed off the fields,  I had to keep the speed above the magic 20 MPH where traction control kicks in and feel the front end judder as the electronic nanny scrabbled for grip. 20 MPH with a bleedin big trailer nailed to the back is towards the top end of amusement I want on these little narrow windy    country Welsh lanes.


It is at times like this you notice something that's very similar about Cross Channel Ferries and Citroen estates  navigating slippery narrow lanes with huge heavy trailers on the back. You will not see the student behind the wheel of either......

She has a marked reluctance to even be in the former, though her enthusiasm for being on the latter is legendary, and who can blame her....

R

One of those days, I had to share.

We arrived at Bookers this morning at a fortunate time, just as everything was being cleared. The student piled the trolley with veggies and lots of sausages a lot of it destined for the freezer. She decided this afternoon would be good cooking time so she set about bulk manufacture of veggi lassagne to be batched up and put into the freezer for future use.

Some things are just not meant to be sometimes. As she was stirring everything in she decided more salt was indicated. So of course she picked up the new salt mill not realising one of the D's had been fiddling losened the top and not done it up again.

Plop, the grinding head and all the salt inside it went into the pan.

So anyway half the veggies went in the compost together with the salt. Onwards and upwards or not.

Half the lassagne had been saved and all in all she was fairly pleased with herself.  

With that came a tap on the door, the Jehovas witnesses who had such a long chat with Bethan the other day enjoyed it so much they came back for more.    This diverted herself from the cooker which in turn meant the cooking was on and no one was stirring. Now I am no master chef but it wasn't long before  even I worked out veggies cooking should not be smelling like that and, come to think of it they should not be smoking either.

Poor old student, she had decided she was having a wine free day, I have just been ordered to deploy the corkscrew, she wants a glass, and make it a big one....

R