Monthly Archives: May 2016

Sun, cynicism and salt-dough

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Actually, there’s been no sun but I needed a third “s” word for the alliteration.

However, there has been plenty of cynicism and I’m up to my ears in salt-dough.

The cynicism has been rising as arrangements for filming have advanced. Both the BBC and Notts TV want to come and do pieces on us and, rather like a 70’s sitcom, there has been a noticeable change in some people. I’m waiting for the first one to crack and say: “All right, Mr. De Mille, I’m ready for my close-up.” It can’t be long now…

Watch this space for more news on our flirtation with fame and the media.

I managed to fit in plywood between the cynicism and the salt-dough. We have a plan to build a loaf of bread six feet long and four feet high. We also have a pile of second-hand plywood four feet high. It’s mainly odd sizes and none of it is a convenient. I did start planning how we could use it but it became clear that the patchwork effect and the amount of framing needed was going to make it impractical. So it’s back to Plan A.

While I was in the barn counting plywood I noticed the House Martins are gathering mud for their nests. I’ve just been back with the camera but somebody is now working in the yard and has scared them all off. Will have to see what I can do later.

On the salt-dough front things are getting better. We have a group of around 20 Guides coming on Monday night so I need to produce around 40 shapes for decoration – one for them to keep and one for us to display on Open Farm Sunday.

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After my stiff dough and thick tiles of last week, I have been doing some thinking. With my first attempt I converted the 2:1:1 ratio of flour, salt and water into weights. Today I used cups and produced a much more workable dough. It just goes to show it doesn’t always pay to get technical. I have four trays of animal shapes drying, and they are half the thickness of my original trial pieces so things are looking up. By 6 pm they should all be ready for use.

 

A strange egg…

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We had the second class from new College in today and I decided to open an egg up to show them a bit of science. As you can imagine from the featured image, I got a shock when I cracked it open.

I’ve seen eggs with meat and blood spots before but I’ve never actually seen one with so much blood in it. I assume that as the egg was having its thick albumen layer added the bird must have bled from the oviduct. It’s definitely not started incubating, because there are no blood vessels. Whatever the reason, it caused a bit of a stir, rather like a satanic conjuring trick.

It’s been wet today but despite that we’ve seen off a lot of jobs, and the flowers in the garden are starting to look great.

The students helped us catch the Polish bantams, which have been at liberty since Monday, so that was good, as although two of the birds were happy enough to go back, one put up more determined resistance.  As we are down to three we don’t want to lose another, particularly as there had been a cat eyeing them up yesterday.

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We have some more information and photos up on the Individual Pages, the cow is repainted, the pigsaw’s tail is made (but not yet attached), I’ve been making signs for Open Farm Sunday, and we have two TV companies wanting to visit us (on the same day!). It will all come to nothing, I’m sure, but in any event, as a man with “a good face for radio” I’m not likely to be needed.

 

It’s built on seven hills

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I do not, of course refer to Rome, because that would be too simple, and too exotic. No, I refer to Sheffield. Unlike Rome, which is famous for culture, romance and Roman ruins, Sheffield is famous for cutlery, silver plate and Henderson’s Relish.

Now, I have to admit that I have never counted the hills in Sheffield and I rely on Number Two son for this information. However, I can say that wherever you go in the city you do seem to be on a hill or next to one, so I find the seven hills story easy to believe.

The reason for this digression from my normal tale of life on the farm is that after work on Monday night I took him back to Sheffield when I should have been blogging. It was a trip I didn’t mind making. Though it was nice to see him for a few days my wallet and the fridge both heaved a sigh of relief when he left.

There are no photographs of Sheffield, though I do have some from the farm.

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We had New College down to get some practice with animals, tried out a new unit on egg quality and spotted two male and one female Orange Tip, though (as usual) I couldn’t get a picture, and I finally got to grips with the new booking system. The old booking system had a major flaw, in that it wasn’t a system, so this is a great improvement. I felt quite virtuous for a few minutes.

On the trip to Sheffield we went through Chesterfield, a town famous for its twisted spire. Whilst by-passing the town non the A61, which is a bit of a concrete canyon at the lower end, we were surprised to see a Jay perched on a section of crash barrier by the roadside. It’s not the first bird I think of seeing in an urban environment but there were some trees and patches of waste land within a few hundred yards so I suppose it wasn’t too far away from its natural habitat.

I suppose the moral there is that you don’t always appreciate what is actually in the landscape as you drive down a dual carriageway.

Tuesday (or today, if you prefer) has passed quickly. Julia has painted the outside of the pigsaw and is making the tail. She also had a meeting about the kitchen extension. I passed my time pottering about and, whilst clearing out some old files, found a web-based Health and Safety course that I had forgotten all about. That took up most of the afternoon but if I hadn’t done that I’d only have frittered my time away searching the net for trivia.

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Alasdair and I filled the bird feeders last night at 3 pm. At 9.45 am, when we arrived this morning, the fat ball feeder in the hedge was empty (three balls gone in 18 hours!). I knew the jackdaws had found it, but they must have been working hard to eat three in that time. One more secure feeder in the back also came under Jackdaw attack this afternoon. It’s not just the quantity they eat but the way they drive the smaller birds away. I think we may have to stop feeding fat balls.

Frantic Friday

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It’s been a bit of a rush today – shopping on the way to work as we haven’t been planning too well lately. The bakery section in the new Lidl at Bingham is good, so we had croissants for breakfast and sandwich baguettes for lunch. Probably a little bread-centred as a day goes, but as I said – we didn’t plan it too well.

Lidl was like a zombie convention with people of all ages doing their best to keep me away from the things I wanted to buy. It amazes me how many young people exist in a dream. I know we all slow down as we get older, I certainly am, and I’m not quite as alert as I was, but there’s no excuse for getting in my way when I’m in a hurry.

They even had a film crew in one aisle blocking my way to the jam. Well, a croissant needs jam, even if it is full of sugar. Then at the checkout (where they normally fling your shopping at you in an attempt to get rid of you quickly) another of the living dead was on the till.

Then it was the Garden Centre as Julia has plans. They include 30 seed trays and I am afraid to ask.

Men in Sheds put a donated garden shed up for us and re-roofed it. They are also making the Breadfest Project, which I may have mentioned before. I just had to add “Breadfest” to the dictionary as the spell-checker was trying to substitute “breastfed”, which would be a completely different project, and probably not one I’d be allowed to organise.

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The Community Payback team have rebuilt one of the Keyhole Gardens, which was dismantled a while ago by a keen but misdirected volunteer. They have also emptied the compost bins and rescued a litter of mice, which they put back after uncovering them. I’m sure I’m not alone in wondering why, but I suppose all compassion should be given credit. Even compassion to vermin.

I’ve emailed forty more schools to drum up some business, read a number of fascinating emails that offer me a chance to get to know exotic women better, or help them move millions of pounds by sending my bank account details and finally had to walk half way through the village to find the ASDA delivery man who, amongst other things, brought chocolate doughnuts, diet coke and garish iced buns (though that’s not what it calls them on the bag. I fear our healthy eating message is being diluted by the cafe. Not that a man of my size can take the moral high ground on the question of diet. I’d run out of breath trying to get up there, for one thing

I’m rushing to get this finished because I have to set up for a group tomorrow and get Julia home before setting off to see my uncle, who is down visiting from Lancashire. If he can travel 180 miles to see my Dad at the age of 86 I should be able to travel a mere 60 to have tea with them. It would be nice if they didn’t want tea at 5pm (which would give me more time to do my jobs), but that’s what happens as you get older – mealtimes become less flexible and bedtime moves forward.

Not that I’m one to talk – I may not organise my life around going to bed for 7.30, but I am often asleep in front of the TV by that time. The real difference between me and my dad is merely 30 years. We’re deaf in the same ear, have gold caps on the same teeth and, according to my wife and my late mother, are irritatingly similar in many ways.

At eighteen, this would have been a distressing thought, but at 58 I’m not that bothered. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to irritate Julia before going to practice being an amiable old buffer and listening to stories I’ve heard before.

Our new invention – the Pigsaw

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Wednesday

I admit that there’s an element of ambiguity in the name, as it could possibly be a new butchery tool, but if you look at the pictures all will become clear. It’s a pig jigsaw but in the modern way (think Brangelina or spork, or even blog) I thought it would be good to coin a new word. Shakespeare invented 1,700 new words so I thought it would be good to have a go. Only 1,699 to go. Sadly, looking at the web, it seems that someone has already come up with pigsaw. I thought I might try a witty sentence here, using some of Shakespeare’s 1,700 words, but after having my new word snatched from my grasp I have lost heart.

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It’s been a team effort – idea from Julia, drawing from me, cutting out by Men in Sheds and painting by the group.

The main debate is now what we put behind the pieces. We were originally going to cut up a poster showing joints of pork but we’re now thinking that it might be better to use interesting pig facts. It’s more educational that way, and less traumatic for vegetarians and small children.

We have now launched the first stage of the new blog pages – one for each member of the group. Go to the “Individual Pages” tab and select a name. So far I’ve only put a photograph on each one but next week we’ll be adding some text as people decide what they want to discuss about their time on the farm.

Finally, we wrapped up the day with a meeting for the volunteers who will be helping on Open Farm Sunday and a quick trip to Nottingham for a second meeting. I didn’t have to go to the second one, I just dropped Julia off. She has more stamina than I do.

Thursday

Only two points of interest today.

Julia went to the physio today – they say it’s just a sprain, but she can go back in a few weeks if it doesn’t clear up. We’ve heard this before, so we’ll see.

On a brighter note, the touch pad on my computer is now working again. Sometimes computers can be quite perplexing.

 

 

 

Ups and downs

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Sorry, I just seemed to hit one of those patches when I just couldn’t get the blog done. A busy day followed by preparing for a school visit meant we were home for 9.30, heated up the vegetable curry I prepared on Sunday, watched Upstart Crow and went to bed. (Don’t worry, I’m not moving into the modern world and developing a conscience about killing animals, merely saving money.)

I was a bit disappointed in Upstart Crow. Though I may be wasting my life slumped in front of a TV, there are more interesting things to watch and I’m currently undecided whether I’ll watch it again.

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The chocolate picture shows the picture of the chocolate I bought Julia at the weekend, working on the basis that chocolate is a well known universal medicine. I don’t really like dark chocolate but I took hit for my beloved. The Orange and Geranium was quite pleasant, with a taste like rosewater Turkish Delight. The one with Dragon Ginger was less successful. I was expecting something a bit on the fiery side, which I think is fair when you consider the image of the dragon. Don’t be fooled, it’s mild. Very mild. In fact you notice the texture rather than the flavour.

I was also disappointed on Tuesday morning when the teacher who visited on Saturday emailed Julia to say that they were going to cancel their booking. It seems that the school has decided it will be too dangerous for one of the kids in the class, who has a number of medical problems.

It’s a tricky ethical question, should a whole class miss out because one child has a problem? I wouldn’t like him to feel left out, but I also feel bad about the rest of the class missing a fun day out.

One thing I’m less equivocal about is the loss of a day’s wages.

However, we were visited by a group of teenagers with special needs later on Tuesday, and they were one of the best groups we’ve ever had, with great manners and good discipline. They threw themselves into all the activities (though the rain did stop a few plans) and after being disappointed by Ben Elton and the thought of lost money I found myself quite upbeat after a day with these kids.

(In fairness I also have to point out that the teachers were excellent too and if I had a Hall of Fame I’d put them in it).

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The coloured tiles are salt dough. Apart from the picture of Julia’s demo area (it’s not the result of an explosion in a classroom in case you were concerned) it’s one of the few I got today – they were so keen to eat the pizza that it was all gone before I had a chance to take a picture.

Ah, salt dough!

That’s another story…

I managed to spend Tuesday night without adding the photos to the blog, so it’s now Wednesday morning. I’ve altered the post to reflect this and hope it still makes sense.

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I saw another Orange Tip on the way down Lodge Lane this morning, which is both good and bad. I like seeing them, but if it’s not in the area around the Centre I don’t count them towards the annual list.

Fortunately, whilst showing a teacher round, I spotted one whilst standing on the ramp at the front door. It didn’t settle so I still have no photograph, but I’m happy to have seen one.

It’s been a bad week for clumsiness – computer on Wednesday, Julia’s French knitting loom on Thursday and now the new camera. The computer is slightly the worse for wear, the camera is OK, but the knitting loom, and the knitting on it, is a write off. I am not popular. In fact I was so unpopular that I didn’t dare write about it until now.

I rehabilitated myself slightly by being attentive when she injured her leg earlier in the week. I even dropped her off at A&E this morning on my way to work, because that’s the sort of man I am. If I were one of these New Men I may even have sat with her for three hours in a stuffy waiting area. But I’m not.

The diagnosis is that she should go back and see a physio as they can’t find any problem on the X-Ray, though they did say that her bones were “perfect”. So it’s muscles or ligaments. Based on what happened to Number Two so, who had a knee reconstruction two years after being told there was no problem, we are going to make more noise about this one. At least they have given her crutches to stop her falling over and breaking something else.

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Time to go home now, after a detour for flowers and chocolate.  I’m not allowed chocolate because of the diet, but it would surely be insensitive to refuse some if offered it by an invalid…

 

 

 

The Friday post is late again

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As you can see from the main photo, there’s nothing a chicken loves so much as a freshly turned flower bed.

With a lot of help from the Community Payback team we cleared a lot of the overgrown beds yesterday. This always seems to happen at this time of year – it’s too wet to go on the clay soil without damaging what’s left of the structure, then suddenly we are full of weeds.

We had six pairs of blackbirds on the allotment at one time, all enjoying fresh food sources. The Jackdaws and Pied Wagtails arrived a little later and the robin had a go too. Then the chickens arrived. They can move a lot of earth when they start scratching.

That was why we used to feed a “scratch feed” back in the days I was a poultryman keeping birds on deep litter. It was considered old-fashioned in the 70s but I learnt the business off a man who had worked in poultry before the war, so we did a lot of things the old way. We also used to get excellent results, and it’s possible that the two things are linked. There are nutritional and behavioural benefits to throwing grain on the floor (despite the presence of specialist “scratch feeds”  on the web, all you need to do is throw grain on the floor).

Anyway, back to the point – if you throw grain on the floor in a deep litter shed they will scratch the litter, which will stop it caking on top in damp weather, and will enhance the the composting effect.

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I haven’t put a link to the term on the web because it turned up several pages of rubbish – there are even poultry keepers who feed “scratch” (as they call it) in feeders. Where is the “scratch” in that?

Putting grain in feeders to give the birds a choice of grain or layer ration is called choice feeding, but I think I may already have delivered more poultry-related content than most people want.

The only other thing of note for Friday was that the touch pad on my lap top has stopped working. I checked I hadn’t accidentally disabled it, and I hadn’t. Looks like I may have accidentally disabled it in another way, such as when I dropped it. Fortunately I have a wireless mouse as a back up.

Spring has sprung

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I’m finally confident that spring is here, though I’m still waiting to see how good it will be.

I had an errand to run in North Nottinghamshire today – the car temperature gauge rose as high as 21.5 degrees C and there was no wind. It was so nice I actually took off a layer of clothing. Even now at 6.30 pm the farm weather station is showing 19 degrees.

Add that to multiple swallow sightings and an increase in butterflies (one Orange Tip, two Brimstone, a Small Tortoiseshell and I lost count of the whites) and it’s a definite step up in quality of days.

One creepy thing that happened this morning was that when I switched Google on it was showing birthday cakes. Nothing too creepy there, I admit, but when I clicked to see who was having a birthday it turned out to be me. That’s just a little bit too much marketing for my taste. I half expect to turn on to a picture of a corpse and find the message “Google knows what you did last summer , Simon”. Not that have I killed anyone, but having a major search engine wish you a happy birthday is a strange sensation.

Today, in the photographs, I’m going for a cuteness overload. And a picture of good weather.

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401!

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As I published the last post I noticed that it was my 400th. I’d been looking forward to it when I was in the 380s and didn’t seem to be getting much closer. Then I wrote it and missed it! It’s not that I have any erudite observations on the number 400, but it does make the title easier.

Only another 99 to the next milestone and , as I get more casual about blogging, probably no milestone for 500 after that. I wonder if I will find myself linking back to this blog when I reach 500, or even 1,000?

Of course, once you start thinking about number of posts you also have to start thinking about the quality of the content. At that point I have to face up to the fact that what was meant to be an intelligent and focussed blog about Care Farming and sustainability has turned out to be something of a miscellany.

Julia has just read this over my shoulder. I take it from the muttered “rag bag” that she thinks the term “miscellany” may be a little charitable.  This just goes to show that it’s true that behind every successful man there is a woman muttering abuse.

They say that no man is a hero to his valet (well, not so much now, but they used to say it when they had valets) but how much more is that true of wives?

Anyway, back to work.

I’ve put the Guinea Fowl at the top of the post because the photo made me smile and because they haven’t been mentioned much lately. However, that’s the only mention they will be getting in this post.

I now have all the permission slips I need so next week we will be launching personal pages for the group.  It’s a while since I put a new page on the site and it could be a lengthy process as I do it and then correct it…etc. However, when it’s done it will give everyone  a chance to talk about what they like doing and give friends and family an insight into what we do here.

Jody gave us a talk on trees before lunch, with a power point presentation and some tree-themed cards. It was quite interesting though if you look at the photos you may see one of the group is finding it less than gripping. I will mention no names.

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After that we had gardening to do and spoon scarecrows to make Yes, it’s that time of year again – watch this space for details of our long range virtual spoon scarecrow competition (though I may have to do something about the name before launching it).

Then one of the neighbours appeared, driving a goose and seven goslings he had found proceeding up Lodge Lane. It isn’t very busy, but it still wasn’t the best place to take goslings. We are going to have to have  a serious look at the fence.

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Finally, one of the remaining ewes has given birth. She was one of a small but stubborn group that seems determined to hold on to their lambs until the summer. Hopefully the last three will take the hint.

We have had swallows and a couple of Large Whites fluttering about (the butterfly, not the pig breed) so with a bit of sun it has had all the makings of a lovely spring day, if only the cold breeze would stop.

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