Monthly Archives: August 2019

There’s No Smoke

Mrs B has been a member of the Village Facebook Group for some time and has been ahead of the curve when it comes to local gossip / news. So I decided it was time I gained access to the inner sanctum of this closed group and found out first hand the burning issues of the day.

And my efforts were rewarded.

A lot revolves around errant pets. There was one irate member complaining about dog shit in the entrance to their drive – leading to another member demanding a “name and shame” policy when the culprit was identified. (I am not sure that Fido from number 40 would be that bothered about being named on Facebook, but who knows?)

Then there are the lost cats which seem to be a constant worry in Village News. One owner was concerned about “Donald” being lost, before correcting himself five minutes later saying “Oops its Daffy who is missing not Donald – hard to tell them apart”. Donald had been lounging on the sofa while said owner typed message. WE were all relieved to hear that Daffy returned a day or two later, to a veritable spate of “likes”.

“Very pleased to say Daffy has come home. Found having a wonderful time at the Wild Garden having been on safari and clearly well fed keeping the rodents down. Thanks for all the kind messages and calls. Seems happy to be home”

Not being a cat lover myself I was unmoved by the discovery of the errant feline. And I would warrant that it was not only rodents he was feasting on, but some of our favourite songbirds too. And also I reckon it was probably Daffy who crapped in my veg patch on his way to the Wild Garden. But I refrained from posting my thoughts.

What gripped me next was the following discussion which almost literally lit up the Village FB Wall:

5th July

MW: Hope nobody’s home is on fire!! Has someone got a large fire in their garden? The smoke is all the way down Main Street!!!

ST: I was wondering where it’s coming from too. Have had to close all the house windows as smoke and smell infiltrating the house. Not great in a muggy weather evening.

FH: We have just walked the dog, the smoke is worse in Orchard St

MB: Yes and I had washing on the line

RL: Not us!

JW: It was from a bungalow on the main road. Some people are so inconsiderate!

For a moment I was worried as we reside in a single storey dwelling, but we are not near the main road – and I checked that I had not inadvertently put a match to my Forsythia trimmings. Phew!

There was no further discussion so I assumed everyone had managed to get their washing in, close their windows and dowse the flames. But then:

6th July

FH Oh no not another bonfire. Just grabbed the washing in, but can not shut all the windows

VD: thought the same as I had a line of washing out

MB: Let’s have a village campaign against bonfires on summer days and evenings.

I totally agree that a bonfire on a summer afternoon / evening is antisocial though the use of social media to share the experience and find the culprit does amuse. And I do love the idea of a village campaign against bonfires. In my mind’s eye I see villagers with pitch forks and flaming torches marching up to the bungalows near the main road demanding justice (and clean clothes). Torches and forks – just what you need to get a good bonfire going.

It is as well that I was not on Village FB when I had my first bonfire here back in Feb of 2018. I shared The Old Man’s love of a good bonfire at the Old Place where there were fewer neghbours to worry about – but I will have to think more carefully about how I dispose of garden waste around here.

(Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and maintain the security of Village Facebook. However, data from the Group and this blog has been sold to Brexiteers4brexit.com and other similar charitable campaigns. This will enable targeted marketing of rural communities, in which the blame for all bonfires will placed squarely on EU migrants, “crazy” European Union Legislation and The Irish Back Stop)



Stereotyping

    As I dropped my daily aspirin into the glass of water, I asked Mrs B what it reminded her of.  Quick as a flash she said “Plink, plink, fizz: Alka Seltzer” and we laughed.  It was exactly what I was thinking too.

    “And that is why they want to ban adverts that portray gender stereotyping” I replied.  If one harmless advert is still referenced by us forty years on adn influences our way of thinking, what effect is the apparent stereotyping of male and female roles in adverts going to have on the youth of today?  Not much, I suspect, as I am not too sure the sight of men getting their thrills being active while the woman enjoys peace and quiet with a book and a sleeping baby is going to have too deliterious effect.  Should we be concerned that some advertisers are suggesting that (white, middle class) women are good at looking after children and (white, middle class) men do not read enough?

    At a time when we have politicians on a daily basis blithely reinforcing national and racial stereoptying without any noticeable penalty, I do not see that a few adverts making jokes at the expense of absent-minded fathers is that big a deal by comparison.  But hey we have to start somewhere I guess.

    In the Midlife Garden we have no such worries of stereotypical activities, as Mrs B and I happily allow each other to take on non-gender defined roles.  Mrs B enjoys nothing more than a bit of slashing and hacking as she has chopped overgrowing ivy and Forsythia, keeping hedgerows in their place.  I take satisfaction from quieter activites such as sowing seeds, thinning and planting as I have started to attempt successive harvests of salad leaves and beans, as well as sowing some hardy annuals for the cut flower patch planned for the spring.

    “Being a bit of a Marjory” is how Mrs B puts it, something that originates from the time I was pricking out (fnarr, fnarr) in the greenhouse while she was being active and energetic hurling stakes in the veg patch.  All very amusing, but could there perhaps be a hint of gender stereotyping in the pejorative use of the name “Marjory”?  I think she needs to be picked up on that…

    Purple Beans II
    Runners – Second wind
    singular Echinops
    Sweet Williams
    Salad – 3rd planting

    Too early or too hot?

    Another hot, dry start to the summer, another discussion about climate change.  At the end of term I sat through several showings of documentaries on climate change which alarmed and depressed me in equal measure.  Alarming because the stats suggest we are going to global hell in a fossil-fuelled hand cart.  Depressing to hear climate change deniers like Nigel Lawson and American news channels, led from the front by The Donald, for whom  denying climate change suits their personal goals.  Nor was my dark mood alleviated by the attitude of the year 9 geographers who were more interested in trying to wind me up than discovering how to save the planet.

    However, back at home Mrs B is leading our efforts to preserve Planet Earth for our descendants as we use our Bags for Life, watch our home-produced solar power being stored in our battery and even revert to soap-on-a-rope to reduce our consumption of single use plastics.  We can save the plantet….

    Elsewhere, in the garden I have to cope with the change in crop behaviours as veg and flowers adapt (or not) to the latest hot dry spell.  And this summer – like last year – it feels as if a lot of the vegetables are out of kilter.  In the raised beds, only the early croppers did well such as garlic, onions, shallots and new potatoes, which thrived in the early summer warmth.

    In contrast, the beans had all gone over by the time we returned from hols at the end of July, leaving us with knobbly Runners and Frenchies rather than the sweet tender pods we would normally harvest.  Perhaps I made an error in trying to reduce the wastage of previous years by planting just a wigwam or two, instead of serried ranks of them.  So when the purple beans got half way up the poles before stopping in their tracks, flowering and dying, I had no back up.

    I have belatedly effected second plantings of lettuce and beans, but they have had a hard time of it with the slugs (and probably the dry weather).   Today I planted them out, giving them the same choices that Mrs B always tells me they have:  to live or to die.  I suspect the latter will be the inevitable path for them.

    Of course, it might not be climate change or global warming that is the problem at all.  It might just be that I have simply not adhered to my father’s age old advice.  He always told me that I planted my runner beans too early.  So maybe it was just another case of “too early for runner beans”.

    Garlic – showing the usual signs of rust
    Drying garlic
    First new potatoes
    Potatoes and Broad beans (which had over-wintered)
    Plaited garlic