Waiting for the rain...

On our latest scavenging expedition into the terrifying bowels of cottage #2, we discovered an extremely heavy 'coffee table' under the oil drums and a spilly open vat of oil. It's huge, about six feet long; maybe it's a bed! After struggling with Kevin to extract it, scrambling over heaps of nasty things, navigating the hurty nobbliness of the cobbled floor, then out of the tiny front door, down the wonky stone steps and through knee-high nettles, I think I can attest that a good proportion of its weight is attributable to its oil content. We couldn't avoid close contact with its damp, blackened surfaces. Its pungent oily aroma transferred, inevitably, to our clothes and skin. Eventually, we deposited it on the road surface and set about purging it of its stink using a de-greaser meant for car engines and then, after ten minutes' soaking, the jet washer came into play. I haven't 'been allowed' to use it before. After receiving Kevin's stern warnings about not putting my finger over the end (Kevin did this once, and it made a very painful hole in his finger which took weeks to heal...), I began the deep (and safe) clean.

Oh, the deep level of satisfaction I experienced as I watched the thin jet of water tear off a half inch layer of gunk! The jet is necessarily rather thin... It took SUCH a long time! Several little chunks of (rotten?) wood were blasted off, such was the power of this devilish instrument.

Were we satisfied with the 'cleansed' article? No. It was still brazenly boasting its oiliness. Kevin introduced the next weapon, an electric planer. He gave the table a thorough skim, and its surface seemed cleaner.

The table still reeks of oil, so it will stay outdoors. Even outdoors, its nose-wrinkling odour penetrates the atmosphere. When the sun hits it, big shiny patches emerge. Oil slicks. I blot them with paper kitchen towels, and after a few days of this process, I can report that the patches are receding; I'm not convinced that the smell is, however. It's unpleasant to sit there, but we'll give it a month or so to settle down and learn to be fragrant. It's probably a fire risk in its current oozy state.

Don't get curious about the strange item in the foreground... Pretend you haven't seen it.

You may remember Kevin's extreme 'prune' of the pear tree in October. I can't tell you how excited he is that it's sprouting little branches. He thinks he'll be eating pears from it this year, even though I did point out that it hasn't presented any blossom as yet. It might. Because of my scoffing at his pruning job, he has forbidden me to eat any fruit from the tree. Every time he tells me that, I can't suppress a laugh.

Swotty as ever, I pruned my little apple tree 'by the book', creating the desired 'goblet shape'. It currently sports blossoms. I wouldn't put it past Kevin to snip them off!

One of my beautiful little apple blossoms

Since I reported that I'd fallen off the ladder (twisting my leg in a funny way- yes, it still hurts a bit...) while ivy-stripping the piggery, I've now finished the job. I used a garden chair instead- it was (seriously!) more stable. Now that the ivy's off, I'm clearing the carefully stacked and 'sorted into type' wood from its interior. I spent a day carrying it up to the top barn to go in the underpart on the left where the plastic-wrapped body is. I couldn't bring myself to actually enter the nether part of the barn, so I stacked it up outside. On the second day, Kevin suggested putting the wood in the trailer and driving it up to the barn. I have to admit that that did speed things up, and saved my leg from further strain. Yesterday was the last hot day before the rain was due, so we had to transfer it all into the murder scene last night. I didn't go down there, but Kevin wasn't bothered about the body. He was SO not bothered that he opened it up...

Well, it wasn't a body after all. Just layers of folded plastic. I threw the wood into the doorway, and Kevin transferred it all to the not-so-scary lower section of the top barn. Although we hear Barney, our barn owl, hooting throughout the night, every night, he doesn't seem to live in the top barn any more. We're always in and out during the day, and I think he'd had enough. He's probably moved to the lower barn. His ethereal hooting has, in the last two days, started to be accompanied by the hypnotic chirping of crickets.

Piggery interior

Did I mention that we're transforming the piggery into a double bedroom with an en-suite bathroom and kitchenette? My one major concern about this mini-project is that the original slate-tiled roof was replaced with a metal one by the previous owner. It's a really nice metal roof, but I think tiles would be more appealing. And quieter when it rains. Or when cherries or walnuts drop on it. My current plan, a plan that is invariably criticised by all-comers, is to batten out the surface of the metal roof in wood and nail on the original tiles, as they're all still there on the ground by the piggery. I'm sticking with the idea until I'm convinced that it actually is a bad plan. We do have two barns full of old hay and straw; we could thatch it!

Piggery window!

Piggery date of construction

Etched crosses to bless and protect the pigs?

I'm excited about my next piggery project. I have to chip out the old 'mortar', and re-point the whole building using a lime and sand mix. My friend, Sue, who's an expert at this particular job is coming to give me a masterclass and get me started- can't wait! As you can see in the photo below, there really isn't going to be too much chipping out to do. It's basically a pile of stones, sometimes semi-filled with loose mud and sand.

The rain's here, and I'm so relieved on behalf of my plants! I did a last mow of the fairways yesterday, so I'm feeling comfortably pleased with myself.

We've also been eagerly anticipating rain in order to test the water-tightness of our new Velux window in the guest bedroom. No drips at all! We're working in there today.