Jasp in the Garden

A really big fat 'Thank you!'

2009-06-11T00:39:00.001+01:00

Well, we've done it folks. We've now got more than 240 MP's to sign off on Early Day Motion 581, which calls for lower stocking levels for egg and meat hens. This has been driven by the fabulous Chicken Out campaign, which has now secured in excess of 160,000 consumer signatures - a voice that's getting increasingly harder to ignore. The EDM also calls for clearer labelling standards, so that people can be sure exactly what conditions their Sunday dinner has been bred in.

If you're one of the beautiful people on the list, well done and from the heart of my free-range chicken shed, thank you. if you're not, don't worry, there's still time! Just click on the link above, enter a few short details and job's a good'un. (You'll also get to see your name in lights as the tally clocks a new signature!)

If you don't know what all the fuss is about, come round to my house some time and I'll make you an onelette, just like we had for tea tonight. It was bright yellow, just the way yolks are SUPPOSED to look! It was absolutely gorgeous to the tastebuds, a real treat. Just goes to prove that you really do reap what you sow - happy, naturally fed hens = happy, natural eggs. It's not rocket science really, is it?

The Pursuit of Happiness

2009-02-02T12:54:00.001Z

I used to gather inspirational quotes into an old diary when I was a teenager. One of the gems I hoarded went something like "Searching for happiness is a fruitless voyage, for the more we seek it, the more it runs away from us". I was blissfully happy with life and thoroughly sheltered from all the hardships in the world, and thought it to be quite an odd statement to make. Now, with the benefit of ten years of marriage, 23 years total parenting and twelve years living away from home experience, I see the world, unremarkably, through very different eyes. I see the truth of that curious statement, both from my own and other people's experience.

A new report out today concludes the last three years' work of 11 family experts and scholars. One of the strongest staements in its summary pages is this: "The aggressive pursuits of personal success by adults is now the greatest threat to British children". It cites family break-ups, unprincipled advertising, too much competition in education and income inequality as being big contributing factors. I've not sifted through the hundreds of pages of research and conclusions, nor do I doubt I ever will, but from what I've seen of it, I do sincerely welcome the report and the boldness with which it seems to have been written. Firstly, it was an independent inquiry, which presumably has no hidden agenda - it's authors are not trying to sell formula milk or win political seats. Secondly, it seems to inequivocally call a number of prominent agencies and bodies to repentance ask them to seriously re-think their entire philosophy. In this day and age, that can only be a good thing; on the one hand, they'll change, on the other (if they don't), they're exposed as morons who are set in their unhelpful ways. Anyway, I digress.

This all got me thinking. Another of my favourite teenage quotes was from a ancient American writer called Nephi. He lived around 600BC and was an ancestor of the modern-day North-American Indians. In a time of great turbulence and civil unrest, he took as many as would follow him away from the great cities and wandered into the wilderness for "the space of many days", how ever long that was. They came upon a land of plenty and settled down, establishing themselves a new society, free from the persecution and wrong-doing of the old one. I'm often read and re-read what exactly it is that they do next, because Nephi goes on to say that "we lived after the manner of happiness". So what was it that they did? There are 12 practices that Nephi's people follow - and perhaps unsurprisingly, searching for happiness is not one of them:

1) They followed God's teachings.

2) They worked hard to sustain themselves and their families.

3) They shared a common goal.

4) They built-up defences against anything that would distract from their common goal.

5) They engaged in a variety of manual labours, working together on common aims.

6) They each sought to gain as much education as possible.

7) They constructed centres of worship and worshipped there.

8) They became an industrious (hard-working) people.

9) They appointed good men as their leaders.

10) They acknowledged God's hand in every aspect of their lives.

11) They kept personal histories and passed on their culture and history from father to son.

12) They were 'pleased with the things of God'.

Now, compare their society with ours. According to the experts who published today's report, the selfish pursuit of happiness is the biggest threat facing our children. May I be so bold as to suggest that this because we are too busy looking for happiness, instead of studying the success of the ancients and doing what they have done? There is a distinct lack of respect for the wisdom of the elders in our society, an arrogance which assumes that we know better and can figure things out for ourselves. True it is that our challenges are not theirs, but we are doomed indeed if we consider to be rot all that our forebears have learned before we were even thought of.

In the spirit of that thinking, what can we learn from the 'ancients' about this business of happiness and child-rearing? I would suggest a great deal more than could be coped with here. Instead, let me offer three small tidbits of wisdom, penned by the inspirational Gordon Bitner Hinckley in 1995:

1) Husband and wife have a solemn responsibility to love and care for each
other and for their children. “Children are an heritage of the Lord” (Psalm 127:3).
Parents have a sacred duty to rear their children in love and
righteousness, to provide for their physical and spiritual needs, and
to teach them to love and serve one another, observe the commandments
of God, and be law-abiding citizens wherever they live. Husbands and
wives—mothers and fathers—will be held accountable before God for the
discharge of these obligations.

2) Happiness in family life is most likely to be achieved when founded upon the teachings of the Lord Jesus Christ. Successful marriages and families are established and maintained on
principles of faith, prayer, repentance, forgiveness, respect, love,
compassion, work, and wholesome recreational activities.

3) By divine design, fathers are to preside over their families in love
and righteousness and are responsible to provide the necessities of
life and protection for their families. Mothers are primarily
responsible for the nurture of their children. In these sacred
responsibilities, fathers and mothers are obligated to help one another
as equal partners.

I would be deeply interested to leave 'society' with its endless list of hazards and issues and establish a Nephi-esque culture. It would be a delicious experiment to see how the two groups would differ after, say a year. I know which one would propser and which one would not. I know exactly where I'd like to be. But short of separating ourselves physically from the rest of society, is there a way that we can apply the same principles in our own homes, for example? I believe there is, and what's more, I believe that we can be different even whilst we live amongst the rest of society. Not only that, I believe we owe it to our kids to make sure that we do.

Politics, n: [Poly "many" + tics "blood-sucking parasites"] ~Larry Hardiman

2008-05-21T07:45:00.002+01:00

I feel profoundly grateful to those who died in the Great Wars, so that I can enjoy the freedoms which are mine. Since being a teenager, I have been very aware of their sacrifice, often shedding a tear or two on the eleventh of the eleventh. My Great Uncle Wheaton, serving in the Navy, survived a variety of sorties and exchanges in foreign waters, only to be killed by a mine as he arrived home to his heroes welcome at Portsmouth. Such a tragic waste of life.

The thing is, the tragedy isn't so much that Wheaton died trying to save his country - in a way that has been a noble and worthwhile pursuits since time immemorial. The real tragedy, I feel, is when those freedoms for which he fought are trodden under the foot of those who ought to know better. I, as a healthy, white, straight man, enjoy a delightful array of freedoms in the green and pleasant land: I can study what I like, read what I like, say what I like, wear what I like, drink what I like, drive what I like, do whatever job I like. Yet a child has no such rights, not even the right to live, it emerged yesterday.

The green is seems not so green and the pleasant not so pleasant now that the oafs in Westminster have rejected the cry for the sanctity of life. I know someone who has just had twins, born at 22 weeks, one of whom has survived and is now gaining strength after some worrying weeks in hospital. This is a living, breathing baby girl, as beautiful as she is tiny, and SHE HAS A RIGHT TO LIVE! To me, allowing the murder of babies at 24 weeks is a vile and criminal practice, one for which criminal penalties should apply, the same as it would for the murder of a person of any other age. In other countries, men and women of strength and cajones have stood against abortion and their countries have benefited from its abhorrence of this evil practice. In this country, however abortion has been culturally and politically embraced as an effective method of contraception. So much so that more than 60,000 infants are broken, scraped and vaccuumed into seeming oblivion.

Last night in the House of Commons, a vote was held and a proposed drop in termination date was rejected on the grounds that "there is no medical evidence to support the proposal". There was no medical evidence to suggest that murdering a million Jews in the concentration camps was morally repugnant, but when we hear about the idea, we just KNOW that it is wrong. To add insult to injury, the same buffoons that approved this, also gave the green light to "hybrid embryology" last week, whereby human genetic material is being mixed with animal in order to create hybrid embryos. So what can be done about it?

"People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant." Helen Keller was right on the money there. We have become a society of non-thinkers, people who DO without first thinking about what they are doing or even why. What happens when your child reaches 5? You send them to school, right? Did you actually THINK through your child's educational options and arrive at the course of action you felt was best to help him or her to fulfill their unique potential? Or did you just send them to school because that's what everybody else does? Bingo.

The problem with living in a nation of sheep is that there inevitably come wolves in sheep's clothing. Enter Mr Abortion Law. Enter Mr Hybrid. How many people live in Britain? About 60 million. How many are of voting age? About 40 million. How many idiots sit in parliament? About 450, I think. Do you see where I'm going with this? How can they possibly hope to govern the country, unless they know the country they are dealing with? had they actually listened to any of the home-educating families that I know, they would never, ever have even considered rejecting this proposal, in fact they may have even outlawed abortion altogether. Had they bothered to consult with those families, they would realise what an impact their proposed new change to parents staying at home would have. So what is to be done about them?

Do you not realise the power of your own voice? Do you not realise that the things that are abhorrent to you are also abhorrent to a thousand other people around the country? This is the day and age where opinions matter, where voices really can be heard - where the voice of the people saying "You cheap, amoral morons! Stop this evil at once!" can resound in the ear of every politician, every local councillor, every decision-maker in every business. We have a right to breathe clean air, to drink clear water, to take walks in the beauties of this land, and unless we stop this silence, we will soon lose them. The first mistake would be to believe that politicians have the nation's interests at heart. The second is to do nothing to stop them.

WE are the nation, not THEM. I am not inciting you to violence, nor to extremism of any kind. I do this in the same spirit that Christ threw the money-changers from the Temple - I do it with vigor and urgency, because human rights are sacred and ought to be protected with every resource at our disposal. Even if that means laying down our lives like Uncle Wheaton did. Let whatever we sacrifice for the rights of our children, never go to waste like his did. I don't know how to do something about this. I hope that you and others who read this or who talk about it, will come up with the answers to that. perhaps you'd be good enough to share your ideas in the comments section, so that we can DO something. Winston Churchill, one of my all-time heroes, said the following: "All it would take for evil to triumph, is for good men to do nothing" So what are WE going to do? you and I. What are we going to do about it?

Community

2008-04-27T04:28:00.003+01:00

I generally don't like it when someone starts to rant about a problem they are willing to offer no solution to. Having said that, I'll try my very best not to actually 'rant' about this - more sort of 'ponder all over my keyboard'!

I love it when old people talk about the war. I could quite happily sit there for hours and listen to them going on - and often have done - about rationing, Churchill's great speeches and the Blackout. But the bit that most fascinates me - I mean really, really draws me in - is this spirit of community which they all talk about. It doesn't seem to matter where in the country you were at the time of the war, the Brits were just struck by a feeling of 'togetherness'.

And here's where the ranty bit starts.... I don't think we've got that any more. I honestly don't know what happened to it, but it seems to have gone, faded away into the same oblivion that swallowed up home-gardening, beef dripping and 'make-do-or-mend'. Perhaps it fell victim to the post-war economic optimism that seduced America in the 50's: work harder so you can buy more 'stuff'. Perhaps we lost our sense of focus and got so carried away with the after-parties that we forgot those values and practices that brought us through the conflict in the first place.

Whatever the cause may prove to be, I'm starting to feel optimistic that it's not beyond repair. I rejoice - and I do use that word deliberately - to see events like the Bush Moot being organised again this year, where hundreds of wilderness lovers gather from around the globe to share their skills and crafts with each other. Academics such as Andy Munzer are using their influence to rekindle the flames of story-telling, sharing messages, morals and histories with future generations. I'm heartened to see the number of people doing extraordinary things to raise money and awareness for issues that would otherwise have gone unheard. Children in Need, for example, raised what I consider to be a staggering amount of money in their annual appeal last year, a total of £36million. (And bear in mind that this is all against a backdrop of credit-crunching and petrol pirates).

I feel really chuffed to see the astronomic growth of social networking sites such as Facebook.com, where communities of friends and strangers are able to share common interests, keep in touch in easy and entertaining ways, and build whole new communities, based not on geographical proximity, but on common interest and shared values. Add to this the enormous and wonderfully inspiring progeny of Linus Torvalds and the whole Open Source movement, and you really start to sense that community spirit only appears to be out for the count.

What is actually happening, is that borders, barriers and limitations are being torn down everywhere we look. I feel that it is culturally comparable to the Berlin Wall coming down. International communities are enhancing and complementing local, geographical ones. Data and culture sharing are becoming regular, everyday occurrences in so many people's lives. We are no longer merely citizens of the land we happen to live in today, but citizens of Planet Earth, connected to and interacting with millions of un-met compatriots, each of us concerned with and affected by the systematic rape and pillage of the earth's finite resources.

I feel that our generation owes a tremendous debt to our forebears, not only to continue their fight for freedom - and indeed to exercise and benefit from the freedoms for which they gave so much - but also to carry that torch of community spirit and 'togetherness' onwards. I'm reminded very much of the Olympic torch, being passed from one neighbour to another, year after year, its flame never being allowed to be blown out. Perhaps we would all do well to embrace the same concept: to burn as brightly in our own circles of influence as we can, and to teach others to do the same.

The Chooks of Hazzard

2008-03-26T21:32:00.001Z

(Sorry, that was awful I know! I couldn't resist!!)

So here we are, another fortnight gone by, and time to clean out the hen-house again. Our neighbours on one side built a 6 foot fence the other week, so Linda and I decided to let the chickens be completely free-range, even when we're not in the garden to keep an eye on them. They've thrived since then, and the taste of their eggs is just exquisite.

But then of course, there's the 'other' stuff that comes out of that pipe... and that's not as pleasant to deal with!! When you read articles entitled "How to start with chickens", they reassuringly tell you that you'll ;just know' when they need to be cleaned out again. And oh boy, do you!! We have four females (hence the eggs.....) each coming up to six months old, and they certainly know how to poop!!

Go on, have a guess. Four hens, about the size of a curled up cat in your lap. I clean them out every two weeks. Be brave now - how much poop do I scoop out of their coop? (Now that was actually quite clever, and completely unintentional!!) A breakfast bowl? A side plate? Maybe even a dinner plate's worth? (I hasten to add that I don't actually use any of those receptacles, lest you should ever fear eating here again...)

Even if you had guessed a moderately-sized saucepan, you would still have been found wanting, for my little treasures produce two tightly packed buckets of poo every fortnight. Now bear in mind, there's wood shavings in there too, but by and large, the amount is indeed large!

So bearing in mind that there are only so many times a day you can eat eggs, no matter how good they are (and did I mention that they really are good?), I started to have a niggling fear that this might not be paying off - that it might still be cheaper to buy them from the shop. So I worked it out:

We get four eggs a day x 320 days a year (on average for this breed when kept free-range) = 1,280 = 106 dozen eggs.

Even as I write, Tesco will happily relieve you of £1.44 per half dozen = £152.64 per year

The hens cost me about £7 a month in feed, plus whatever gets left over from our plates, which we risk our lives to take out to them!! So that's £84 a year, plus about £15 a year in shavings. That makes the total cost of keeping them £99 per year.

So already we're saving in the region of £53 a year. BUT (or should I say BUTT) (Sorry about this...) Let's not forget the pure, unadulterated and beautifully potent chicken manure we (well, they, technically) produce. At around £4 a bucket-full, we save an additional £208 a year on first-rate plant grower.

So yes, on the financial side, the chickens definitely earn their keep. They also dig over anything I let them walk on, saving me hours in the garden, and fertilise it as they go! We throw less food waste away because they eat it all, and they are marvellous companions. There really is nothing quite like the feeling of wandering around bare-foot in your own Garden of Eden, to feel the tender pecking of a sharp beak against your bare flesh, then to discover that you've recoiled into a pile of what didn't make it to the litter tray!!

Yes, chickens are fantastic. So fantastic in fact, that one day I'm going to write a book about them, in which I solve everybody's dilemmas, allowing everyone in the whole world the unbridled, unrivalled joy of husbanding the most useful creatures the Lord ever made. Anyhow, it's about time I tucked them in for the night and read them a story. (Don't worry, I was kidding about the story part). Then again.......

My new blog

2008-03-09T18:20:00.002Z

Hello there fans! I've started a new blog so that I can separate earthworms and children from poetry and fiction. I'd be REALLY grateful of any feedback and comments that you have on it - as you know, I'm just starting off, so I need all the guidance I can get my hands on. So what are you waiting for? Come over to the dark side today! (And don't forget to subscribe to the RSS feed so that you get updates):

http://richardswriting.blogspot.com/

See you there soon!

Soliloquy from 'Romeo & juliet' (my version of...)

2008-02-27T16:08:00.000Z

The universe, spectacularly aligned to seal my fate!
Pierced by longing, like a worm boring through a heart content,
now the dull throb of a once-sprained leg
which no hands can restore to vigour.

A hunger growing, cancerous, expanding,
replacing healthy tissue with emptiness -
nay, not inactive emptiness but active yearning,
searing longing for that which the Gods deny me!

Why I? The hail of each sore with life -
why this flesh so cursed and tortured must be?
What folly shall I have raised?
What immortal displeasure have I incurred,
that I must suffer and writhe in the agony of my remaining?

And why she?
Can Gods not be patient too,
but missing her, they invest their omnipotence in theiving souls
too soon from this world,
an angelic pilgrim torn from the bosom of natives,
who cry with arms raised, "Return her here!"

Why must she tatse the wine of untimely ends?
Why she, be so tortured and wanting of esteem
that such apothecary only solace could lend?
What cause, great Gods, be so urgent as her theft can fulfil,
while earth moans and souls die at her demise?

And less of Gods, yet what of I, my soul
or the ash that remains,
whose lifeless, greying mass no form entrusts?
Is life henceforth?
Can breath hold true, for seems me, there is less air tonight.
Was ever point or sense or cause
to wage the ongoing war of continuance,
when ere was joy and laughter sweet as birdsong,
now gives way to the thundering quietness of loneliness.

These lips I press once more 'gainst mine.
Erst pink as roses, now bilberry blue
and icicles on a face -
how swiftly life is sucked away through those fading eyes
as death takes on life breathing its silence
into once reverberating lung.

Sweet Juliet, in my heart already wife,
now distant, tragic torn from this scene,
make space for me where torment no longer grinds.
With wide arms greet me, with flowing hair as branches on a spring bough
welcome me,
sweet Juliet.

My steel so cold, uncaring here,
will bring me to you.
Arise, oh love of my heart,
take place again with your love,
as rising again from the flame,
love lives again
and in dying, love is born again
on wings of eternity -
on bright bounteous wings
together we at last shall fly!

Why I am so obsessed with self-sufficiency

2008-02-13T00:05:00.000Z

Over the last couple of years, a large number of issues have raised their heads, and begged to be addressed. I think that as life goes on, we have a duty to ourselves to stop and think where we stand on them. I think it's all part of the getting to know ourselves process, in figuring out what we believe. So as part of that process, I thought I would spend a few moments spewing out random thoughts on the subject, in the hope that by the end, it would help me think things through to one or two logical conclusions.

First of all, I eat meat. I don't eat too much of it, but I do it eat it. I don't have a problem with that. I believe that I'm doctrinally solid on that point. However, I totally agree with the arguments put forward by PETA in their literature, and frankly I wouldn't go near any of those animals with a bargepole. I think that the kind of practices they are trying to outlaw are utterly barbaric, and that those who perpetrate them should be subjected to it themselves.

That said, I don't have a problem with the eating of meat, nor for that matter, the wearing of fur as clothing, or the use of that wonderful material leather. I believe as does Ray Mears that if an animal is going to give its life for us, then out of respect, we must make every single use of it that we can. I believe that properly raised animals and birds taste delicious, and that it is incumbent upon any eater of meat to get to know the process by which that animal has become your food, what breed it was, what it was fed etc. I would like to know that the meat on my plate had been dispatched humanely, that it was butchered with skill and respect, and that every possible use was made of its carcass, so that none of it went to waste. In reality, what I believe in is self-sufficiency, for this is the only real way to ensure the quality of the food we are eating.

Secondly, I am appalled by the short-termist thinking which "society" would lull us into when it comes to the way we grow our foods. Our entire future depends on how we use the soil today. In our obsession to produce more crops, faster we have forgotten that the quality of the soil = the quality of our food. We feed chemical pesticides to keep away the nasties, then have to add chemical fertilisers to make the soil work again. Then we grow the same crop on the same patch year after year because our customer pays well for it, every season robbing the earth of what precious little nutrients it has left. But what happens when the top-soil is all gone? What will we be able to grow when all of the nutrients have gone?

When it comes to growing top-quality crops, there is only one solution: and that is to do it nature's way. It means that we put all of the natural material back into the earth that we can in order to maintain a good quality soil. It also means rotating crops from field to field so that each crop leaves behind a different set of nutrients for the following crop to thrive on. This way, when our children's children plant their crops, their soil will be even better than ours through years of constant giving and enrichment.

Thirdly, and I suppose that this is really the icing on the cake, the only way that I can see for these things to happen is for people to rebuild their relationship with the soil! There is no taste quite like your first sip of cold elderflower cordial on a hot summer's day, when it was of your own making. No bite is more glorious than home-baked bread spread with your own strawberry jam. We have so long forgotten where our food even comes from, let alone how it is made. We buy on the appearance of the packaging and not on the quality of the produce inside. We've no idea of the seasons any more, because we have pap flown in from so many other countries all year round that we've lost the plot altogether.

For instance, when do elderflowers blossom? When are brambles ready for picking? When are sprouts at their best? When did you last go strawberry picking? Exactly. And I don't mean to point the finger at you - this is an epidemic that's riddling our society, our world.

We started off all being farmers, each tending his own small flock, each tilling his own piece of the earth to provide the needs of his family. Now personally, I'd like us all to go right back to those times, but I realise that that might be a bit tricky... As time went on, one person began to achieve a greater yield when it came to harvest time, just as another was able to raise fabulous pigs. Another produced baskets that no other could match, and another was skilled with an anvil and a bellows. On a small scale, such as existed between families in "the village", this kind of specialism was wonderful, and allowed each to look after his own immediate affairs, by trading with his neighbours.

And then that nasty metal stuff came into force... and everybody started to chase it, like it was the be-all and end-all of their lives. No longer did they do favours for each other, but instead, they delivered a product or service in exchange for a crisp note or a shiny coin. With that came the realisation that the potential to earn money was limited to the number of residents in the village, and the only way to increase that potential for money was to go where more people were. Hence the development of cities. Money, money, money. How quickly we have lost the plot, and how tragically. For with the love of money comes separation from the reality of our existence, of our own place in the balance of the earth. We rape the soil in the hope of a fast buck. We are happy to trap animals in tiny cages in order to test new make-up, because we insecure with who we really are inside. Interestingly enough, neither my wife, nor my mother, nor my sisters or my sisters-in-law wear make-up, and yet they are some of the most beautiful women in the world. I don't personally think that's a coincidence.

I fourthly believe that man has a tremendous responsibility to this earth and to all that lives in it. I believe that the commandment given to Adam to "tend the garden and make it fruitful" is as valid now as it was then. I believe that we must make the most of what we are given, make it bloom and blossom and fruit. There is none who cannot grow herbs on a windowsill, or tomatoes in a hanging basket by the door. If more land is given, then more should be produced: potatoes in barrels, chickens kept for eggs, fruit trees planted. When I see a typical urban garden, of a grass lawn surrounded by hardy perennials, I can't help but think of the parable of the three servants, and of the poor chap who buried his talent. What will we say when the Master returns? "Look Lord, I kept the grass really tidy!"

I hope that some of this makes sense to you. I hope you don't feel that you've been lectured to. This is why I feel so passionately about things like the Chicken Out campaign. Or using recycled paper. Or cloth nappies. Or organic fruit and veg. Because if we consume it, we have a stewardship over it - to know where it comes from, and to see that our desire to consume it does not leave the earth worse off.

So I do want to evangelise to you really, because I used to be a heathen and I've "seen the light"!! Please do change your lightbulbs over to energy savers. Please do grow some of your own veg. Please do cut up old sheets and use them as toilet wipes. Please do buy organic veg, free-range chicken and recycled paper. Because you and I are stewards. We have been given SOOOOO much. And where much is given, much is also required.

Thank you for listening.

Rant over ;)

What the world eats

2008-01-05T13:58:00.000Z

Somebody on one of my organic gardening forums sent this link into the group. You have to take a look at it - it's amazing! It's really fascinating to see what people eat from all around the world, as well as how much (or little!) it costs them! What interested me most was to score them all for happiness and generally healthy looks - it makes sobering reading!!

So have a look - please let me know what you think as well!

http://www.time.com/time/photogallery/0,29307,1626519_1373664,00.html

Happy New Year to you all !!!

2007-12-31T23:26:00.000Z

Well, still time for one last blog entry in 2007! We were all invited to Joan Jones' for the evening, but as I'm down with the flu (aaargh!) I stayed at home in the quiet. In spite of paracetamol, I'm sitting in a room with no heating, in a T-shirt and I can feel the rivulets running down my back! So the plan was, I'd come upstairs at 9:30 feeling tired, wee, switch off the computer then get an early night..... But by the time I'd weed, I was wide awake again, so I've been catching up on my Facebook friends, looking for a couple of elusive pimpernels and watching clips of the Two Ronnies on YouTube. So I decided I may as well finish the year doing something useful: a quick blog, then scriptures before midnight.

So what about all this New Year lark then, eh? As a teenager, I used to take every opportunity I could find to set goals - I was ALWAYS aiming for something! Something very lofty usually, something I couldn't possibly ever achieve given all the resources in the world. But somehow, I never stopped to think whether or not my goals were ever possible; somehow, I was happy just to set them, as if writing down my secret inner dreams would make them all come true!

Unfortunately, this bad habit grew with me into adulthood, where it made friends with disappointment and disillusionment. For every goal I never reached, my self-esteem took another beating, until failed attempt after failed attempt, there was none left to beat.

I've learned now that goals are very different from dreams - I even wrote a course on it! Goals are steps we plan to take in order to make dreams come a little bit closer. Goals must really be steps, and not leaps - they must be gradual, they must challenge our best efforts but also allow for bad days, interruptions and setbacks. Whilst they are a tool that can be very useful, they must not become the central focus of our existence.

So what are my goals for 2008? (Hey it's an Olympic year, just thinking about it!) Probably not very inspiring to you. Probably not even enough to make you break into a sweat. But here are mine, for what they're worth:

1) Still have four chickens at the end of the year.

2) Have a Daddy-Daughter Date with each of my girls, every month.

3) Study the scriptures more than I did last year.

4) Spend more time talking to Linda.

5) Learn to do whatever I can, when I can, and to take it easy on myself when I just can't.

So there you go. Now, get back to your parties wherever they are, you've got Shloer to drink and Party Poppers to let off! I hope that your 2008 is every bit as fabulous as you hope it will be. Dream dreams, make plans, never lose sight of what you're doing it all for. God bless you in all that you do. May you be richer, wiser and more fulfilled by the end of 2008.

Happy New Year!!!!

x

December in the garden

2007-12-18T16:42:00.000Z

I nearly froze my bum off today. Whatever time I've been able to spend outdoors this year, I have loved - the garden offers a superb variety of colours, shades and species. But today, it was really bitter. I managed to get the whole chicken run painted with "forest green" woodstain - as I was building it, I had no idea actually how big the surface area of the run was! So now the hen-house is built, the run is done except for the wire and the door hang been hung and bolted. So as soon as the wire's been stapled on tomorrow, we're all finished.

I ordered a feeder and drinker today, so hopefully they'll be here before Christmas (fingers crossed, I know it's late in the day...). I also piled the wood shavings into the nesting boxes today as well, so that's that done. The legs of the house and the ladder are also stained now too, so in theory, it should also stand for a while!

I was thinking about all that we've learned, tried and achieved this year in the garden, and I thought I would share a few of our successes with you, as well as some of the lessons we've learned (of which there have been plenty!)

Successes

1. Grew huge crops of lettuce, carrots, onions and nasturtiums, all of them very delicious indeed.

2. Built a composter and have now made about 120L of fabulous-looking compost.

3. Removed two dead or disease-ridden apple trees.

4. Invested in (or otherwise acquired - by honest means :D) a garden shredder, 12 demi-johns, a sewing machine (OK, not for the garden, but helpful to wannabe smallholders) and a wide variety of screws and other bits and bobs.

5. Reduced toilet water wastage by two litres per flush.

6. Reduced household rubbish from a full bin and a bag or two, down to a third of a bin each week (and yes, there are six of us in the house!)

7. Got rid of our TV, video and DVD player (not garden again, but green, so I'm counting it!)

8. Had the cavity walls insulated with rock wool.

9. Built a greenhouse and planted a huge number of plants.

10. Converted a flower bed into a second vegetable patch, and also extended it.

Lessons learned

1. Make sure you get someone to water the veggies while you're away for two weeks in the summer..... we lost sooo much produce to the heat because of this silly mistake!

2. Figure out what to do in case of vegetable patch flooding - we also lost loads this way :(

3. Think about the sun's path when planting things - we had sweetcorn hidden away in a shady corner and it never really grew. Next year, we'll put it in the sunnier of the two beds.

4. Don't try too much all at once. We planted close to a hundred different plants, fruits, vegetables and herbs. Some were successful, some not. Next year, we'll concentrate on producing a bigger harvest of what we like best, and diversify in years to come once everything is established.

5. Produce a year plan in advance, and break it down into what needs to be down each month, then plan into your diary when (every week) you will do it. Veggies thrive on regular weeding, pruning etc rather than energetic bursts every now and then.

6. Most importantly of all though, I've learned that there are no finer carrots in all the world, than my own! Very soon, I'm going to make a carrot cake using my own carrots, my own apple sauce, flour that I have ground from wheat and eggs that my own hens have laid. And it will be the finest cake man have ever put to his lips! I'm getting ravenous just thinking about it!

Life's a-maze-ing!!

2007-10-10T13:41:00.000+01:00

I stand alone amid the hedges, challenging and fun;
But soon the fun begins to fade with the setting of the sun.
I wish I had a map with me, to guide me on my way -
so I'll be safe at home tonight and live another day!

I cry for help, “Is someone there who knows the way from here?”
(I hope they hear my bravery, don't notice all my fear).
“I'll help you, son” the warden says, his arms were stretched out wide,
“Just follow me, go where I go. The end is soon in sight”
That night I felt so grateful, that he came to my aid.
I'll always remember his kindly help and how my life he saved.

When life gets like a great big maze, there's no need for dismay:
just close your eyes and bow your head and humbly kneel to say,
“I'm lost dear Lord, I cannot find the way that I should roam.
Please find me Lord and comfort me and bring me safely home”.
I promise you as bright as sun, the 'warden' will be near;
He'll find you there and lead you home and bring you such warm cheer.

“I'll help you son” the Saviour said, His arms were stretched out wide,
“Just follow me, go where I go. The end is soon in sight”.
That night I felt so grateful, that He came to my aid.
I'll always remember His kindly help and how my life He saved.

Teaching an old dog new tricks....

2007-09-23T14:57:00.000+01:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about the internet and all of the amazing possibilities it presents. For example, I'm now the proud owner of 122 friends on Facebook. These are (with the odd exception) all dear, dear friends from school, Austria, Chorley and now Wales, people with whom I have shared my childhood, my mission and the early years of my adulthood. We can share embarrassing school photos, watch each others kids grow and play Scrabble live over the internet - it's fantastic! Of course, working from home, it does take a superhuman amount of self-discipline to get some work done from time to time!

And talking of catching up friends old and forgotten (kind of), there's YouTube, which - like Facebook, totally rules the world. YouTube is a gigantic repository of video clips, most of which - I hasten to add - are the dregs left over when all of the quality is removed from a barrel, but amongst all of the chaff, there is some really good stuff. Being a huge fan of the UFC and not having Sky TV, I can view clips of all of the best bouts, and catch up with how everyone is doing. I can watch old episodes of Blackadder, the Two Ronnies and QI. We have watched all of series 3 of The Office and have nearly wet ourselves doing so. We have also used it a number of times as part of the girls' home education, finding nature clips and other gems.

We buy books at discount prices from Abe Books, having saved a fortune already this year. In fact at the start of the year, we bought a whole year's home ed curriculum from Sonlight. We swap DVD's with people from all over the UK and Europe using Eswapnow, and find all the latest bargains by logging into our account at Moneysavingexpert.com. Having saved all that money, we then bank online and pay bills and generally transfer money around (between the UK and the Caribbean, of course :D ).

It's hard to find an area of our lives that hasn't been greatly blessed and enhanced by the internet. We made a conscious choice a number of years ago to reduce the amount of rubbish that we were watching on TV, so that we could spend our time doing more useful things. So we got rid of the TV license, and just used the TV for watching videos and DVDs. Several years later, we have now got rid of the TV, video and DVD players, and have moved the computer into the family living room. We've always made an effort not to have the TV being the central point of people's attention as they walk into our room. Now we don't even have one for them to look at! Of course, we can still watch DVDs, but we are now more selective about what we watch and when. Since we made this quite bold move, we've noticed a big difference in the girls - they certainly weren't regular viewers before, but they hardly ever ask to watch films now. Instead, they ask to play internet games or to spend time working towards the next level in something like Study Dog, one of their English programmes.

I was trying to remember a time when we didn't have the internet. I had never even heard of it as a 20 year old missionary. I don't think we owned a computer until we moved to Chorley and I needed one for University, but even then, it was used as a word processor and nothing more. It wasn't really until we signed up for broadband in Wales that we started to realise the potential the internet had to change our lives. We started to watch some of the other sessions of Conference, research materials for lessons; in my work, I used it to carry out enormous research projects for client business plans I was writing. And so the transformation began, and we started to embrace it all whole-heartedly.

We often discussed the idea of selling up and travelling around Europe in a big camper van, and as much as that idea still appeals to us, it would mean having to learn how to live all over again, as we would have to do things without the net. Whether that is exciting or sad, I'll leave for you to decide, but either way, it shows what enormous changes life has seen since my parents were growing up. It fills me with a mixture of excitement and fear to try think how our children will be living when they are ancient like us!

There can be only one.......

2007-09-09T21:32:00.000+01:00

I've got a challenge for all of you internet-savvie brain boxes.... Find me a Googlewhack. Just in case you're not a lifelong fan of Dave Gorman (and how could any self-respecting Brit NOT be??), a Googlewhack is a pair of words which, when searched for together in Google, produce only one single result. That's one single website in the entire 15 billion + webpages out there, which features those two words on the same page.

"Aha!" I hear you say, "But that's easy!" Really? Good luck! I've tried some pretty random couplets and found over a million responses for them!

I really struck gold on Friday - I have to point out in my defence here that I've spent maybe a half hour in total (ever) on this quest - when I searched for "amorphic tiswas". Quite why ANYONE would want to write about a brand of nonsense without physical shape, I really can't imagine, but apparently somebody out there felt the need.

Bitten by the bug, I then searched for a more nutritious option, typing in random fruits as they popped into my mind. Finally I settled upon "blackcurrant carburretor", which again scored me only one response. The fun didn't stop there, oh no, and I ended up finding three within minutes of each other, with "endomorphic bipolarism" finishing off the triumphant trio.

The tragedy of me telling you all of this is that once I hit that red "Publish" button, there's no going back: my prodigies will all die and become extinct. No more will there be only one entry on large-framed manic depression. There will be no more single source of data on fruity car-parts. Body has now been cruelly added to previously un-formed nonsense, and all proof of my half-hour's labour will be destroyed.

Still, there's comfort in knowing that they are not really 'dead' as such: they will live on in another form. They have now shaken off this mortal coil, and will be resurrected as "dis legomenonae", or words which only appear twice in a spoken language. (Scholars may argue that since the phrase 'blackcurrant carburetor' is not a regular feature in everyday spoken English, it cannot officially count as a dislego-whatsit; but frankly I'm inclined not to care about the opinion of anyone that would care to argue such pedantry as that).

You see, I try to educate the world with this blog. I don't know if there will peace in the Middle East tonight because of it, but one day, one day this blog will have a positive effect on humanity.

Incidentally, the deepest joy of a Googlewhack comes not after an hour's hard labour, leafing furiously through a dictionary trying to find ridiculous words that can't possibly be connected. Oh no. The greatest joy is when you find one, quite by accident, when you wander through the interweb as a serendipitous Indiana Jones. It all happened because of the pain I was having in my neck, sort of a "my whole head is going to explode from the neck up" kind of feeling. Since I've been on antibiotics for a couple of days, I started to Google for potential problems that might cause this kind of phenomena, but I found none. Now somewhat urgently looking for guidance, I typed in "amoxicillin contrainidications", not realising that I had added in a n extra "i". And there before my astounded eyes lay a bright, new shiny Googlewhack of my very own. You can't explain the desire that you get to just reach out and stroke it, like a tiny yellow chick that's hatched before your very eyes. It's something you have to experience for yourself.

All of which nonsense leads me to three clear conclusions:

1) Never under-estimate the power of the internet to rob you of half an hour of productive time at work

2) Always read the label first

and

3) Never trust a website written by a Doctor who can't spell "Contraindication"

Goodnight.

What it feels like to be a grown-up...

2007-09-08T08:08:00.000+01:00

Well, first impressions of being 30 are good! It probably sounds daft to say that it does feel a little bit different from being 29. I think that's mostly the sense of optimism and hope that this is going to be a great year. I'm in a very different position indeed than I was last birthday, and there are a number of key factors that are also very different now than they were then. The future's orange, as they say.

I felt quite overwhelmed with the loving wishes that seemed to pour in yesterday, with cards through the door, musical e-cards and wall messages on Facebook. I frankly wondered what all the fuss was about! Then I re-read the training course I was busy trying to finish off ready for a client, all about Personal Development. It looks at how our sub-conscious mind builds up a set of values and beliefs, not all of which are true. We have to challenge them and re-train it in order to achieve things. This, combined with the last counselling session I attended, is starting to move things in my head - long overdue too. My therapist (oh my goodness, I'm talking like an American!) asked me why I'm so ashamed of my illness, and why I find it so very difficult to talk about. I said I don't know, and since that session, I've thought a lot about it.

It feels a bit stupid sitting here saying something like "Hello I'm Richard and I suffer from Clinical Depression" but the fact remains that it's true. I do, so there. And since there are only a handful of people that actually read this, and I love them all dearly, here goes..... Some days I feel fantastic, unstoppable, limitlessly talented. Other days, I feel like the lowest piece of scum on the earth who is selfishly taking up other people's resources like air and food. Apparently J.K. Rowling based her Dementors on depression: how the world goes icy cold, and drains of aevery piece of happiness that was ever there. Harry describes how he felt that he would never be happy again. Welcome to clinical depression.

Sometimes I just can't face people, even the ones I love, and I have to just hide until the feeling goes away. I think part of it is that I don't want people to see me like this, some sort of British inability to ever admit that anything's wrong. Linda (my therapist) reminded me that if I had a broken leg, I wouldn't think twice about putting in an appearance, so why should I, just because my condition is mental not physical? It all sounds so logical, so sensible! And yet it's so very difficult to implement when they're swarming around you.

So, in the spirit of the freedom of information act, there are a few things that you all you need to know:

1) First and foremost, I love you all to bits! Cottrelly people, thank you so much for making me part of the family, I feel very welcome amongst you and that's nice.

2) I find dealing with depression very difficult, and I don't always deal with it in the best way (if there is one...) Sometimes I hide away, and that's not always the best solution, but when I do you HAVE to know that it's not because I don't like you or don't want to be with you.

3) May the Lord bless you all to never have anything to do with it. It's the most evil, debilitating illness I can think of. There's not a facet of your life that it doesn't have the power to utterly screw up.

4) You all need to know what an AMAZING sister you've got in Linda. She has put up with a stroppy, sulky teenager for so long now, and there's never been an inkling that she's ever wanted to give up and walk away. I can't put into words how much she means to me and how very grateful I am for her. She has quite literally been a rock that I've clung to when the seas have just about swallowed me up and I have longed and even begged not to be here; she has held my hand until the storm was over so many times. Sorry to get all slushy, but I needed you all to know that.

So how is being 30 so different from being 29? Well, in my case, I now have an excellent Doctor who actually listens and is prepared to experiment to find the right medication; I have a superb psychotherapist who reads me like a book and is really uncovering some juicy stuff; I'm now in a fitness habit which is getting stronger, and already I can feel the difference; I'm working for myself again which I love, and things are starting to grow and progress; I've finished my AAT qualification at last which puts me in a much stronger position to secure work. There will still be down days, I know that, but I feel so much more prepared to handle them than I ever have done before.

So... there it is. I'm 'out of the closet' so to speak. No more secrets. No more hiding. I'm not ashamed it any more. This is me, so there. God bless you all for loving me the way that you do.

And thank you, thank you for all of your birthday wishes.

xx

Just call me Bruce...

2007-08-09T21:49:00.000+01:00

Well, after shedding a few unwanted pounds recently, I decided to take it a step further and invest a whopping £4 on a wide elastic band with handles from Tesco. The idea (I think - there were no instructions in English on the box...) is that you hold it or otherwise suspend from various bodyparts, whilst pulling in the opposite direction with another. It's a gentle form of resistance exercise, so it's ideal for the rather overweight and feeble. Having had lots of fun with that for a few weeks, I started to feel brighter in myself and have more energy - hurray!

As a teenager, I was really into martial arts and weight training, though sadly, I spent more time reading "Muscle & Fitness" than I did actually training. But the desire is still there, so with my new-found energy, I decided to start kickboxing - a fitness class rather than combat. And oh my goodness, do I ache! The session lasts an hour, and I was determined that however much it hurt, I had to not puke until it was over and noone was looking!

We spent much of the hour doing punch bag work, which develops power and speed, and then we moved onto focus mitts, which makes sure you're looking where you're hitting! Everything about the session was geared towards developing stamina, and the ability to recover quickly from high intensity exercise - I guess like you would do if you were recovering in the corner between rounds.

One hour after the end, I still haven't puked, and actually feel very good, though I was careful to drink a lot during the session, as well as afterwards. My shoulders are hurting with exhaustion like I've never known, and I'm sure my legs will start to complain in the morning. Which leads me to another of my deep and meaningful questions... Why is it that you can walk past something time after time, day after day, it's always in the same place, but then when you actually need it, it's never there??!!?? I'm thinking of the Arnica tablets now - regular attenders on my living room shelf, but now that I need them, they've scarpered! Never mind, I'll go and watch some TV and fall asleep - I usually wake up at 3 in the morning remembering where I last out them!

Things that make you go BOOM!

2007-08-05T19:21:00.000+01:00

I found a drafted blog entry from mid-June that I wanted to share with you - it really tickled me looking back on it. I hope you enjoy:

I had an interesting experience this morning - I moved something off the kitchen table only to reveal a very strangely-shaped pop bottle. In its heyday, it contained 2 litres of Tesco's best effort at ginger beer, but being the adventurous type, I decided to try and make some Elderflower cordial whilst the girls were away. We'd run out of white sugar, so I had to use to brown instead, which has a much stronger flavour.

It just didn't taste right, so I took it out of the fridge and left it on the kitchen side, just as a temporary measure until I could be bothered to pour it on the compost heap. Well, this morning, one week later, I re-discovered the bottle, now expanded to bursting point, having now fermented a good part of the brown sugar into finest home-brewed elderflower wine!! The bottle was shaped more like a barrel than a bottle, and was so hard to touch, it felt like it would blow any minute! I immediately sprang into bomb-disposing-hero mode and sent everyone out of the way, which did nothing but attract them all to the danger! I carried it out to the garden at a snail's pace, fully aware that not only could it have taken my eye out, but I was also wearing my Sunday best, and didn't really fancy ironing another shirt.

Well, at arm's length, I slowly relaxed the bulging lid, expecting a little fizz as the bottle released its carbonic acid, but oh no! The fizz continued for nearly five minutes!! Finally, when all the gas had been set free, I took the lid off and cautiously took a sniff of my first, inadvertent homebrew, with the result that I nearly fell backwards, spilling the whole beverage on my white shirt. I've never smelled anything so powerful in my life: even sharing a missionary flat didn't come close to this stuff! I then proceeded to pour it liberally all over the compost heap, thinking that it would add variety of nothing else to the composition of my garden droppings.

For some weeks, there has been a strong and not particularly pleasant smell coming from the garden. In fact, all you need to do to experience it (should you want to) is step out of the back door, where you will be hit (and I use the word deliberately) by a strong, sweet, very alcoholic stench. Certainly, I intend to make the most of the experience and am now putting together a PhD thesis entitled "A study into potential uses of homebrew in modern biological warfare". I shall be adding that should my elderflower cordial not have the desired effect, we could simply catapult a barrel full of retired missionaries' shoes towards enemy lines!

Experiences in Bournemouth

2007-08-05T17:13:00.000+01:00

So as you'll have gathered from everyone else's blogs, we've just spent a delicious week with the family in Bournemouth. But what you might not have picked up on are the wonderful subtleties of the fine English language. I'll give you an example... this week the girls have spent as many waking moments as humanly possible playing with their Uncle Steve's Nintendo Wii - a small games console with wireless controllers, for the uninitiated. That was fine, but it then led to a number of embarrassing experiences, as the tongue ran on ahead of the mind, leaving the speaker in considerable discomfort. At about 6 o'clock one night, Mum asked where Linda was, to which I helpfully replied, "She's in the front room Wii'ing". Mum was aghast! Having not yet fully attuned her ears to tell the difference between "wii'ing" and "weeing", I'm sure she must have suspected her third-born was up to some foul and vulgar practice of the Northerners....

This made me think back to a time about a year ago in the wastelands of Merthyr Tydfil, when we invited our two best friends round to play some board games. I tactfully asked Esther if they were busy on Friday; she checked her diary then replied "No, we've got absolutely nothing on". I couldn't help it, though I tried and tried to suppress it - the words escaped my mouth before I could stop them: "Oooo! Sounds good - we're going to have a Naked Friday!" Esther, bless her, went a shade of red I have only ever seen in sunburned beetroots, and we all rolled on the floor, genuinely laughing our bottoms off. And from then on, when we met on a Sunday at church, one couple would ask the other of they were up for a Naked Friday, much to the consternation of the occasional member who caught the wrong end of the stick when passing by...

Whilst we were in the mouth of the Bourne, we visited Littledown leisure centre for a dip on a hot day. I couldn't resist donating a pound to a machine that promised to tell my weight, height and fortune. I seem to be struck with a fitness bug at the moment, and decided to take the opportunity of having a machine speak blasphemy to me whilst I still can. So here, for the very first time in the history of the internet, you, dear blog reader have either the awesome privilege or the terrifying ordeal of reading my vital statistics, as of the 1st August: 5'11", 19st 12lb with a bodyfat of 32%.

Although my weight is not the recommended 12 stone ideal (so that I can hide in a box of pencils), what concerns me more is the fact that I've shrunk by 3 inches over the last ten years. I'm not quite sure - apart from in some hideous accident - how I could have lost three inches in height. Obviously they make up some of the many extra inches of waistland around me these days, but the question is why? Why would they abandon my height and settle around my hips? Why not around my bicep, or even give me one of those fabulous man-bosoms like Arnie? But three inches beware: the owner of these hips has hereby decreed that you are an endangered spcies. You, and many of the others of your kind are wanted men (or women) (in fact, do waistline inches even have a gender??). Before long, there will only be 30-something of you - aha!!

A week of firsts...

2007-07-22T15:13:00.000+01:00

I don't know how it all worked out, but this seems to have been a week of firsts for me... first time standing in a queue for the midnight release of a book, first time being breathalysed, (first time I've ever actually written the word"breathalysed"!), first time in a simulator and the first time I've ever seen a dead kestrel. Wow, what a week!

Yes, I decided that at coming up to 30, I ought to have that devoted experience of going without sleep and sanity to wait in a queue full of fancy-dressed fans for the long-awaited final instalment of Mr Potter and his under-age adventures. The camera didn't really do justice to the length of the Asda queue, suffice it to say that it went all the way from the women's underwear, through the electrical department and halfway down the casserole dish aisle. After what seemed like not all that long really, a strangely dressed woman asked if I wanted the adult or child's edition, and fearing the former to include wizard-porn of some sort, I asked for the children's edition. (I later learned that the only difference is the more child-friendly cover painting, but you never can be too careful.....)

On my way there at 11:55pm (I wanted to stand in line, but not for long...) I was pulled over by the Police, who I assumed had clocked me doing 35 in the 30 zone. He informed that this being Friday night, they often find that people try to drive home after getting a skinful, so they were carrying out random breath-tests. Cool, I thought, but don't be long! The machine was clear and I even got to keep the straw as a souvenir, and I arrived at Asda at 11:59, ready to show my devotion to Mrs Rowling. Why Asda, when I'm a time-honoured Tesco shopper? Well, Asda were selling it for £5 and Tesco for £10. I might not be the best accountant in the world, but even I can spot the bargain in that one!

As you'll no doubt have read on the girl's blogs, we had a day out at Butlins in Skegness on Thursday. It was brilliant and well worth the £26 for a bulging family ticket. The girl's were in their element, and it looks like they're all going to become adrenaline junkies like their mother! Emily (the cheekster) calmly told me that simulator would be a gentle recreation for me, and that we could fly together through some nice countryside. Having refused to go on a variety of rides with names like "The Puke-o-meter", "Wall of Death" and "The Gut-slayer", I agreed that this one sounded more like it. Oh, how wrong I was! The simulator only moves about two feet in any one direction, but what a difference o0nce you're inside it! There was an emergency stop button right above my head in case you need to rush out and puke, and it took all of my strength not to push it after only a few seconds! By the time the ride finished, my gastric appreciation was on its way, and only the fact that the door opened quickly stopped me from chundering all over the screen (she also made me sit right at the front, the swine!)

On Wednesday teatime, I went out to the car and thought "Wo!".... there in front of me on the front lawn was a deceased kestrel... in Grimsby of all places! I couldn't help but think of that classic sketch complaining about the lack of vitality in a Norwegian Blue... my hypersensitive neighbour felt I should deal with it there and then, but with five minutes left before the tea burned and chips to buy from the village, there was no time to be squeamish: the bird would have to wait!

When tea was done and dusted, I phoned the Police, going on the theory that you have to report a dead dog, so why not a protected bird of prey? They told me to phone the RSPCA, who passed me around a few departments, before telling me to phone the Council, and they would come and collect it as a bio-hazard! The lady at the Council was slightly less dramatic, and calmly told me to chuck it in the wheelie-bin in the morning. From this, I think we can all learn two important lessons: 1) always eat your dinner before handling dead birds, and 2) never trust a grinning 7 year old who tells you a ride is stomach-friendly!

The Prologue

2007-06-17T22:42:00.000+01:00

Well, I suppose it was inevitable really, that I should finally write my own blog. After all I'm fully conversant with email, I know my RAM from my MPEG's and I've even been known to connect to a wireless LAN for a quick game of Deathmatch Black Hawk Down - surely I couldn't have held on for much longer before being dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century!

Interestingly enough it was my 7yr old Emily who persuaded me to do it. Sure, she's been harping on at me to start one since she was brainwashed at a recent trip to the Cottrells - but it was more what she didn't say that one me over: I wish that my dad has started a blog when he was young, so that I could read back over his experiences, his triumphs, his fears.

So perhaps in these lines of what I'm reliably informed is no longer HTML ("That's like so 90's, man!"), some future generations of Cook's may learn something interesting about their old man. At the very least, I hope they'll come to understand why my shoes are always muddy, and what that awful stench is at the bottom of the garden!