The importance of a tightly drafted brief

I am just about ready to tell you the sorry tale of my garden bench. I dug out a couple of old photos so that you could get an idea of what it looked like Before. The wood was past its best, but the ends were lovely and smooth with a sort of blue-black look to them.

I wanted to repair it, rather than buy a new one, even though a new one would have been cheaper than buying new wood and new fixings. It's a bog standard cheap bench and quite old, but I hate throwing things away so I got the necessary stuff.

I couldn't remove the old bolts, which were rusted, so I asked the local community repair shop to do it. I gave them the bench and the wood and the new bolts and they assured me it would be no trouble at all to fit the new wood.

I bumped into one or two of the chaps out and about and they hinted that a lovely job was being made of it. The wood would be treated! It would all be magnificent. 

They were also doing up bikes for Ukrainian refugees because they are all in all good eggs, so I waited patiently for weeks, looking forward to having a functional bench again. It was a bit of a treat to be honest, splashing out on the wood. I could picture how nice it would be.

Then the call came. It was done! I could go and get it! 

I rounded up some strong boys and off we went. There was excitement at the shop, they'd gone all out they told me. Not just wood treatment, but they'd given it a coat of paint was well! 

Oh, I said, how nice. Inside I was thinking, paint??? I tried to imagine what colour they had gone for. I guessed green. And I was right. It was indeed green. THICK BRIGHT GREEN GLOSS. WITH ORANGE VARNISH. Oh horror of horrors. 

I was almost lost for words. The lovely smooth patina-ed ends all choked up with hideous gloss paint. Thick, thick, thick gloss paint. It is never coming off, ever. And it will never fade. It might chip, but not to worry, THERE IS MORE UNDERNEATH.

They all looked pleased as punch to have gone above and beyond and delivered such a thing. It was carried out and placed in isolated splendour for me to appreciate it in all its perfection. The orange wood really stood out against the THICK BRIGHT GREEN. I couldn't imagine a more striking combination. 

I paid the money and organised the urchins to carry it off and spent at least two minutes thanking them nicely because I didn't want to hurt the feelings of the person who had had the brilliant idea of green paint and orange varnish and who had made sure I had such a magnificent surprise. But inside, inside I was screaming. 

So here it is, back home in the garden, where I can see it all day from where I work. To be fair, the wood has changed colour slightly, possibly even for the better. But the green paint, no siree, that is as fresh as the day it was painted back in the summer. It has taken me this long to speak about it. 

I suppose you want to see it. Don't say I didn't warn you.

Contrast it, if you will, with the other bench, which is blending in nicely and not shouting at all.

I suppose the trick will be to sit on the ghastly orange and green bench and look at the other bench. Although this doesn't solve the problem of me staring out of the window at it all the livelong day. Sigh. I know I am being overly dramatic, but what was supposed to be more of an eco-friendly solution has turned into a gloss paint nightmare. But it's fine. I am almost over it and I am certain that you will come up with a tasteful solution for me, such as covering it with a nice soft padded patchwork throw or rubbing yoghurt into it so that it ages back into beauty. You will come up with a tasteful solution, won't you?

Tranquility, and the magnificence that is Patricia

 

Photos from a glorious day by the canal with the middle boy, who wanted to go fishing. We were out pretty much from sunrise to sunset. He caught a pike while I pottered around taking photos and reading about canal history.

It's fascinating. Take this pill box for example:

It is one of a ring of around 260 pill boxes forming a protective circle, known as Stop Line Green, around Bristol and the port of Avonmouth, to try and prevent German forces from approaching from the east in the Second World War. It was also to defend the factory there, which was a ghost factory, ready to take over munitions production if another factory was bombed. Scary times indeed. The pill box is unusual in that it is two storeys high, rather than just one, and has what is believed to be an anti-aircraft placement on top.

The factory was in an old cloth mill, originating from the late 1400s. Lots of history down on the canal, I'm telling you.

The bit I liked best was called 'The Ocean':

Not exactly ocean-sized, but very pretty. No-one knows exactly why it's called The Ocean - maybe a touch of sarcasm. Or maybe because back in the day it was as near to an ocean as the yokels got.

I also read about how a railway bridge over the canal has just been rebuilt after they drained a stretch of the canal, moving fish and everything. The wildlife has reappeared now the water is back. A kingfisher flew right past me and I saw a buzzard right overhead and a greater spotted woodpecker in a tree. A family of swans spent the day drifting up and down a pretty stretch of the water. All in all a good day out. I even managed to stay calm(ish) when the fish was caught. You will be happy to know it was released again and no-one was bitten.

The old manor house behind the wall with the grass and the bench (ate my sandwiches there) is Stonehouse Court and dates back to 1601. In fact the estate is mentioned in the Domesday book. The church next to it (the photo with the weeping willow) dates back originally to the 1200s, but the building that is there now was started in the 1400s.

Panning out, there was a glorious barge in the canal next to Stonehouse Court called Patricia. I know you'll want to see her...

Magnificent, no? Who knew you could get a JCB boat?

In other news I am ignoring both the World Cup and Christmas. There is almost nothing positive about the former and the latter is just annoying and generally an eco-disaster.

I've been enjoying the early sunsets and the cosy winter feeling. While simultaneously trying to hold back with the heating :) Tricky isn't it. I do so love the countryside in winter. All that cold clean sky and pretty cottages with lighted windows in the dusk. 

Do you think it's time to put sunflower seeds out for the birds? They naturally dispersed in spring so I stopped feeding them, like they do at the wetlands place. But I feel it might be time to start up again.

I'm also contemplating getting a crab apple tree for wildlife. Although I never see birds actually eating crab apples. Maybe that's because I am always walking past the tree at the time. I have pretty much persuaded myself anyway. They are very pretty almost all year round. I would want one with small berry-sized (bird-bite-sized) crab apples for the birds I think. 

I am still waiting for a hedgehog. Well, there could actually be one in the hedgehog house but I don't like to look in case there is and I disturb it. I think the rat is still living under next-door's decking though. Bertie has a good sniff around on a regular basis and he should know with his super-spaniel nose. I am not fussy about wildlife, a rat will do nicely for now. 

All okay at your end? Ignoring anything? Got a hedgehog?

Squash

A volunteer squash plant popped up in the garden in early summer. It turned out to have these delightful little squashes on it. I vaguely remember buying a small squash last year that was part green stripes and part orange. No doubt the seeds were composted and found their way into the vegetable beds.

The squashes above are all from the same plant. Just one is dark green, and it has a spot of orange on it. I left them on the plant to ripen and they are all lasting really well. I think I shall save some seeds and grow some more next year, I just love how dinky they are.

We are at the end of 11 days of holiday for the urchins. The littlest boy was doing his homework before bed. I was very cross. I must have asked him ten times during the holidays whether he had done everything for school. Honestly.

There was a dearth of trick or treaters on the streets tonight when the dog and I made our inspection of the neighbourhood. Some people had made a brilliant job of decorating and there were lots of nicely carved pumpkins and candles. One or two households were actively trying to lure people in by shouting, 'Do you want sweets?' across the road at other people. 

Bertie found something on the pavement and ate it. His revenge for me not allowing him the half of a burger he found this morning. Last Hallowe'en we came across someone in a giant dinosaur costume and he was terrified. At least there was nothing scary out there tonight. Although I did see at least eight cats and a good half of them were real. He's not the most observant dog though, so he didn't see them. You can bet that they saw him though. I felt they were looking down their noses a bit.

I don't think I have any actual news today. I took the littlest boy shopping at the mall this afternoon and it has rather taken it out of me. I can barely string a sentence together. I bought him a new t-shirt, which I rather regret now (see homework, above) and some socks. I bought two new notebooks which I absolutely definitely need. For something, at some point, possibly soon. 

Also, a plant pot as the littlest boy has rather an indoor plant addiction now he has taken over the big bedroom with the big south-facing window. And I am pretty much an enabler. We went to the garden centre and looked at cactuses and I said helpful things like, 'Ooh, look at this one, we haven't got one like this.' I need to rein us in. 

Hoping you are enjoying Hallowe'en. I have celebrated by eating a dark chocolate KitKat from the bowl for the trick or treaters. In fact, there are still some left.

Snappish

Obligatory tourist shots from the nation's capital. I took the two younger urchins who were quite frankly rather snappish at times. We went to the Tower of London where we had the option of a guided tour. The middle boy said we had a guide book and didn't need such a thing, then proceeded to hurtle round it at the speed of light, not opening the book once. 

After we left an argument broke out and I had a Moment, explaining how, as I normally work most of the weekend I had mistakenly thought it would be wonderful to finally have a day off and go somewhere lovely with my wonderful children BUT IN FACT IT WAS ALL COMPLETE HORROR. Then we all settled down for a bit and went in search of the boat I had booked us on to. 

We ended up at the wrong quay, but in some quite miraculous way the littlest boy led us through a couple of marinas, past fancy boats and fancy restaurants in a most unpromising direction and, presto, we were at the right one.

Then after the boat, we walked for about three hours without stopping. The middle boy, whose legs are very long, strode off, directing us here, there and all over the shop. The littlest boy and I stomped along behind with me weakly suggesting coffee or a cake or AT LEAST A SIT DOWN FOR TWO MINUTES. The middle boy said that he had sat down all the way there and would sit down all the way back and he most certainly did not need to sit down while he was there.

In the end I forced him to sit down on a bench type thing (maybe a planter...) outside of the Ivy Market Grill in Covent Garden. There was lovely violin music drifting over from the market and we had sandwiches and it was almost like we were actually in the Ivy for the three and a half minutes we were there.

My best bit was when we popped into the National Gallery to use the loos and one of their staff asked us if we were looking for a particular painting. I said in fact, we were just looking for the exit. He pointed us in the right direction but said that as we were there, we could just look at a particularly wonderful painting. He described where it was, and then (maybe saw me looking a bit vague, I honestly can't find things, ever) he said he would take us himself. 

He proceeded to show us Leonardo da Vinci's the Virgin of the Rocks and talked about it with such knowledge and passion. It honestly made my day and I'll remember it for a very long time. 

The littlest boy's best bit was the hot dog I bought him right at the end when I realised that I had actually managed to go the whole day without buying him a tacky souvenir. To be honest, I think he had just lost the energy to campaign for one.

On the coach home in the dark, two women and a man, probably in their sixties, sat at the back rather loudly gossiping the whole way home. It was utterly fascinating and completely impossible not to listen, with nothing to look at and no energy for conversation of my own. Later on, the littlest boy said to me, 'There was a woman on the coach who said such and such.' It made me laugh that he had listened to it all as well. I said, 'I know. And what was Desmond thinking???' I suspect half the coach was wondering that too. Made all the more delicious because everyone was local. 

How are tricks at your end? All good I hope. CJ xx

Out with the old

 

Well, after a mad few weeks the biggest boy is installed at university and the other two are back at school and I am breathing deep, cleansing, uninterrupted breaths. The eldest has managed some laundry and all seems well so far. The littlest boy is missing him, having handily forgotten all the torture and scuffles before he went away.

No opportunity was wasted to increase my anxiety about the whole thing. Conversations went like this:

Me: Which bathrobe do you want to take?

Biggest boy: The thin one.

Me: The thin one??? You'll be freezing. You need the thick one.

Biggest boy: I'll be getting dressed straight away in the mornings, the thin one will be fine.

Middle boy: He'll be sleeping in his clothes. In the street.

I looked into insurance before he went. Some insurance companies were offering cover for theft of shopping on the way home, as if he might be attacked and his groceries stolen after leaving the supermarket, as in some sort of dystopian nightmare.

We had a few minor disagreements over what he actually needed to have. He felt that £100 jeans and £170 speaker were basic necessities. I spent about three weeks going, 'You're a STUDENT'. He has £28 jeans and a £30 speaker which I am counting as a victory.

His group in the student halls had the opportunity to chat online before they met, so in theory they could have arranged kitchen equipment so that they didn't end up with twenty saucepans. Instead, they created a playlist and organised some cool lighting. I did see someone with a bread machine going past when I arrived though, which felt promising.

The university has literally dozens of exciting things going on, I was quite green with envy. Hedgehog preservations groups and gardening and exploring the countryside and trips here there and everywhere. It sounds brilliant, although of course he will probably mostly be going to the bar and not growing his own food. It would all be just right for me though. Except the shared kitchen. He said it is 'not quite as bad as I thought it might be, but you would still be horrified.' I think I am probably more robust than he gives me credit for, it's just that I am overly dramatic when someone makes a kitchen mess at home. I channel Monica from Friends a lot of the time, just to keep people in line as much as possible. 

I decluttered his room on Saturday and the littlest boy and I went plant shopping, then on Saturday evening he moved in, as it's much bigger than his room and has a view of fields and cows. Although his own room has a big tree outside right outside his window with resident pigeons which he is rather attached to. I did deep cleaning and it is all dust-free and sparkling. The littlest boy is on his best behaviour and temporarily committed to keeping it all lovely in there. 

And that feels like all the news I have for now. How is everything at your end?