Too busy

‘Ne’er cast a clout ’til the May be out’ goes the old piece of folklore. Well the May blossom is well and truly out and we’re enjoying a little warm weather for the first time in a Donkey’s age. Still got puddles across the yard, and the soil in the meadow still squelches when I walk it.

However, I’m busy shoveling and shifting tons of gravel to create a Zen garden space on the western side of the house, I have to get some fence posts in to fence off my hives. The walnut seedlings are coming out of the greenhouse. I’m still losing weight, this carnivore diet works like a charm, and it doesn’t cost a fortune.

So that’s about it. Out in the wider world not much changes. The west is still the victim of Didn’t Earn It policies and Especially Stupid and Gormless rating agencies. If the mainstream don’t like something, no matter how true, it’s all ‘Misinformation’, ‘Disinformation’ or ‘Malinformation’. The Russians are still winning in Ukraine and uncontrolled immigration is still causing ructions over here.

Not that I’ve seen anything of the protests. I’m just too damn busy.

Landscaping

A bit blowy outside for the next twenty four hours. Someone called Kathleen is to blame so we’re told. Naughty girl. Time for Mrs Spank to take a quick sharp visit to bottyland methinks.

Well, we’ve had a bit of landscaping done. A piece of ground not far from the back door has been reworked into about eight new parking spaces and usable garden space. Mrs S’s amused comment was; “We’ve got a Doctors car park” Nothing too fancy, just compressed gravel, which, we are told, needs a couple of weeks to ‘settle’ before we can park on it. So it’s fenced off for the moment. As is our little domicile. Drawbridge up, portcullis down, minefield and Piranha tank activated.

Today I have elected to get out there in the wind and wet to sow some herb seeds. Nothing fancy, just Rosemary, Sage, Thyme, Chervil, Parsley and Clover. I may shift a few rocks as well for the new rockeries. Then there’s a bit of property maintenance, one of the grey water drains needs re-routing into the grey water septic system. Lots to do.

Weight loss continues with this carnivore diet. Upside; I’m starting to look at a whole new wardrobe. Downside, that might get a teeny bit expensive. I do have some older clothing that I can use that I have manfully resisted having thrown out by Mrs S. Also on the topic of meat eating, there’s increasing evidence of benefits. Not merely winding back diabetes 2 and pre-diabetic symptoms. This lady below claims she has full remission from Multiple Sclerosis.

Now I’ve been aware of the benefits of a low-carbohydrate regimen, as before insulin, the old treatment was a low carbohydrate diet, which worked. This carnivore diet by contrast, is a revelation. As for all the claims that it causes strokes or heart attacks, there’s increasing evidence that seed oils and deep fried food have more influence on those negative outcomes. Dr Paul Mason, an Australian researcher, explains the science below.

As always, do your own research and make your own mind up. Notwithstanding I am going to use my new-found energy and recovered strength to do a bit of landscaping work.

Unforeseen consequence

You know those hate speech laws being passed by the political class? I was chatting with a friend and they mentioned that any curb on freedom of expression is likely to lower the quality of literature. Writers will no longer be able to produce non-state sanctioned content because someone in one of the political ‘protected groups’ might get their nose put in a sling over words they deem ‘offensive’. Indeed, he was of the opinion that this was already happening, and had been going on for some time. Unless you’re a big name, he opined, you have to tiptoe around and not make any really ‘challenging’ content, because the gatekeepers don’t like it or think it will leave them open to an activist lawsuit.

The end result of course is irreparable damage to the literary canon at all levels. Writers have a tenuous enough grasp on fiscal security as it is, mainly because, to use a UK footballing analogy, there’s a few authors in the premier league, a few in the second division, a few more in the third, but most are just at the level of a Saturday morning kick-about. The wokerati currently holding sway among editorial positions are ironically killing the industry.

The thought does strike that maybe all those whining about how ‘offended’ they and reporting people to the cops might feel much better abut themselves if they just grew the feck up.

Fortunately, at least in Ireland, the message may have seeped through to the political class, who are currently having second thoughts.\, having seen the unfolding debacle in Scotland. Although they’ve left it a bit late. Unfortunately, the Western Irish electorate doesn’t seem to be in a forgiving mood, at least if the negative comments I’ve been hearing of late are any guide.

Oh well, time to get some rest. Busy day tomorrow moving rocks. Like the one pictured below, only bigger.

Showers

Still a little too cold for the end of March. We’ve yet to break double digits this year. However, we will no doubt be told repeatedly that 2024 is the “Hottest year-evah!” without a shred of empirical evidence worth spit.

We’re just hitting Easter, and my bees are only only coming out sporadically. I’m quite glad I left them extra stores this Winter to survive. And I’m also told we have another dump of snow due. Of course it will only be a light coating. this being Atlantic weather country. but still, it’s going to be twice more than last year, and three times more than 2022. So forgive me if I scoff at all the doom and disaster the mainstream weather people pump out. As well as continuing to deride the idea of ‘net zero’, which has nothing to do with real science, only politics and greed.

For example, according to the mainstream the Arctic won’t have enough ice to make a decent martini by the 2030’s. Or was that ‘might’ or ‘could become’ . Perhaps it should have read ‘we got drunk and started writing speculative fearmongering bollocks’? Because that data doesn’t agree with the doom-mongers. Their disaster scenario’s just aren’t happening, and haven’t been doing so since the turn of the 19th /20th century. Yes folks, that is how long the tin foil hatters have been pushing the idea of man made climate change. You’d think they’d get the hint wouldn’t you? Especially as the climate has not been co-operating, continuing to warm since the Little Ice Age in a slow, natural sinusoidal manner, indicative that it’s the Milankovich cycles driving the slow warming trend.

Regardless, today is chilly but has been warm enough for me to work outdoors as long as my poor old achin’ back could take it. Mrs S as a result, has a new gravel patio area so she can sit outside with her morning mug of coffee, or rather could do, if it wasn’t so goddamn cold or wet. However, now I’ve smartened that part of the yard up, she can at least blame the showers and cold, not me.

Meating my expectations

Supposed to be a dry day today, (yeah, right.) Up until lunchtime, it was, kind of. Managed some heavy shovel work and unearthed a ton sized chunk of masonry which I was about to attack with my masonry drill / breaker before the rain started to fall properly. So I slunk indoors, a little damper than I would have liked.

Anyway, with regards to the whole carnivore (Meat, fish, eggs) thing, the weight is dropping off like it’s dissolving and I noticed a couple of moles have basically vanished. One week plainly visible in the mirror, the next, hey, where’d it go George? Closer examination showed a slight indentation where one mole had been. Like it had been surgically removed. Scar free.

I’ll say this, our new diet certainly makes for speedy trips around the supermarket. Our local has an old fashioned looking butchers, which is more like a meat shop, where pre dressed cuts are available for slicing to customer requirements. However, their prices are reasonable and I have gotten used to eating rib-eye steaks once a week.

That’s the thing with carnivore, because you buy very little else apart from meat, fish and eggs, you’re not spending three euro’s a time on a half decent loaf of bread or another four or even over five on a large bottle of ketchup. For that price I can buy a pound of boneless pork steak, and for twelve, sometimes much less, a pound of really good steak. It’s a swings and roundabouts thing. So overall I’m not spending more, and sometimes less.

Then there’s the whole appetite thing. You get used to eating only once or twice a day, and given that you’re not cooking meat / fish then spuds and greens (or pasta) simultaneously, the culinary complexity is winnowed down to an absolute minimum. Average time cooking supper has gone from an hour of prep and stirring to twenty minutes, tops.

As for the high sugar stuff like desserts, candy or chocolate. Don’t even feel a single twitch of a need for anything like that. Can eat salt and pepper chicken wings as occasional snacks (Around twice a week) until the metaphorical cows come home, don’t put on an ounce. About the only other things I’m allowing myself as treats are olives, cheese and the occasional small pack of dry roasted peanuts.

Anyway, while rain stopped play, Mrs S has me designing rockeries. We’ve inherited a modest (!) pile of hundred plus pound rocks which will form the basis of two rockeries. One of which will be around five by four metres and a smaller three by three and a half. Then a five metre by five gravel sitting out area at the lowest part of the west garden, a.k.a. ‘Sleepy Hollow’.

In the outside world I’m getting a twitch in the old fiscal antenna about possible bank failures in the USA. Which is, if your memory doesn’t go back that far, where the 2008 debacle kicked off. So Mrs S and I are cashing in a few shares for taxes etc. I’m actually toying with buying silver again. Mainly because I more than doubled my money on the last batch of ten ounce ingots back in 2020, and I have a seeming that there may be a monetary benefit to investing in Silver again. There’s quite a choice. Ingots, or if you prefer coins like Canadian Maple Leafs, British Royal Arms and Britannias, Australian Koalas and Kangaroos, Rands, American Eagles, and so on and so on. Which is handy if your budget doesn’t quite run to gold. At the time of writing, a one ounce silver coin is coming in at anything from just over thirty euro’s to the high forties. Slightly more than thirty to forty quid in UK money. If push comes to shove, it’s all specie. All cash money and legal tender.

Back in Canada, the recent cold winter weather is still biting, yet still the idiot child masquerading as the Prime Minister is planning to hike the already sky high cost of living for all Canadians even further. Yet when challenged is adamant that it will reduce prices. Sister in law and hubby over on Vancouver Island BC are looking to bail out, but I fear they’ve left it too late. They’re talking about going back to the UK, but that probably won’t be a great move.

Ireland for us is proving better by the day. Our neighbours like us, and I spent a good part of yesterday negotiating grazing rights in exchange for land maintenance. We don’t have the kit but they do, so, fair exchange is no robbery and as what we’ve agreed has no monetary ticket, it can’t be taxed by the bureaucrats and politicians. Non nocere non turpi.

Business as usual

Still taking advantage of the relative dry spell to get out in the garden and do a bit more landscaping. Which is why I’m not posting much, I’m too bloody cream crackered at the end of each day. I’m also losing weight like it’s going out of fashion.

Mrs S though is delighted with the results of my labour, especially as yours truly is achieving required objectives on a shoestring budget. For example, a previous owner had dumped a whole lot of paving bricks in a neglected and overgrown part of the farmyard. A little ingenuity and graft, and bingo! A brand new garden feature some four metres across. The week before I turned a neglected water feature into a two metre plus heather plantation at zero cost but my poor abused musculature. The bees are happy, and forage merrily on said plants every day there’s been sun in the sky. Maybe I’ll even get some honey out of them this spring.

The garden is shaping up nicely, with what was a rather boring lawn and dividing shrubbery into a more dynamic and interesting place for us to enjoy the warmer weather, when or if it arrives. The front lawn is on show for all to see, but then we converted the other lawn into an open space, now called ‘middle earth’ and sporadically punctuated by large evergreen shrubs to act as windbreaks and shield us from any unwelcome gazes over the front wall. Then we have elected to convert a twelve by ten metre area into a shady coffee and relaxation area, accessible via our new path, which Mrs S named ‘sleepy hollow’ (Hopefully without visits by axe wielding headless horsemen). Projected cost; around two hundred and fifty euros for a ton bag of gravel, some leftover slabs, some cheap garden edging and mulch cloth. Oh yes, and my poor old aching back.

There’s also scope for getting a power feed out there, as I just found enough 4mm armoured twin and earth cable to run a spur feed out to a weatherproof electric socket. Which means I will be able to sit and write outdoors instead of lurking in the office. But first the sheds must have power and light. Which should be operational by early Summer. All I have to do is test the cabling and ensure there are no shorts to earth on the feeds.

So yes, we’re cracking along and I may even get a bit of time to myself every so often. Oh, and while I’m on the subject of good news, that belweather of much touted environmental disaster, the Australian Great Barrier Reef is doing pretty nicely too.

Of course you could listen to all the prophets of doom populating the lamestream, but I intend to be more positive this year. I believe ‘Net Zero’ is going to fail, much to the chagrin of those complete muppets who protest for Just stop oil and extinction rebellion, who are ironically funded by ‘big oil’ in the shape of the Rockefeller foundation and other similar interests via the ‘climate emergency fund’ (Look it up). The whole electric car thing is going to die because no one who can do joined up thinking really wants one, no matter if western governments try to fine the manufacturers into oblivion. Then perhaps the US and NATO will have to back off in Ukraine, because the Ukrainian regime is fast running out of people to throw into the meat grinder of their proxy war. Who knows, perhaps the Americans will vote anti-war and kick out the Democrats and their senile puppet. Maybe the UK and other powers will do likewise?

Well, maybe, maybe not. All I know is that I’m beginning to see a payoff for all the hard work I’m putting in. And we will probably get a better summer than last year. Not to mention that family is queueing up to visit. Which will be nice.

Digging in

Doing a bit in the garden at the moment. A new slab path was laid on Saturday and a few other bits and pieces have been completed. The groundwork for a new patch of lawn was completed. Only one more rambling section of purple flowering heather to shift. Things proceed. The spell of dryer weather we’re having helps.

Our daffs have pushed out of the soil, heavily in bud and there’s a twenty metre double line of tulips muscling out of the western lawns to join the crocuses. Buds are breaking and the first annuals to germinate and break soil. My bees seem to have over wintered successfully, and I will be paying them a visit shortly, when the temperature stays above ten Celsius and the foragers are active. It’s looking good for spring this year. There have been no big volcanic burps this year or last, so I remain optimistic.

About fourteen of my planted walnuts are also showing roots and shoots. Indeed, all over the smallholding the process of new life goes on.

The only sour note at the moment (apart from a semi-permanent beef with our Canadian banks) is our farm insurance policy. Which has gone up by two hundred euro’s a year. By a third, over 30%. Which is strange, because we’ve never made a claim, yet the price of our current insurance is skyrocketing. I don’t get it. Maybe they just don’t want the small farm customer, and perchance we’re not profitable enough for them. Oh well, time to hit the phones for a new quote.

Am having a quiet chortle at the recent referendum result, where the vote went almost 80% ‘No’. Which was pretty emphatic, although Sinn Fein have publicly said they want best two out of three. Others in the Irish political class clearly have their noses out of joint over this issue.

The clauses in the Irish constitution the globalists wanted to change are to protect the rights of women who choose to stay home and raise families. The globalists behind the push want to get rid of the ‘women’ clause, get them into the workforce and paying tax for the political class to piss up the wall, inflate the cost of housing even further and make big bucks for the corporates. The native Irish seem to have other ideas, despite being ridiculed for not seeing the referendum for what it was.

There’s also a call to investigate the NGO’s behind the referendum. Questions like “Why are these people getting so much of our tax money?” are being asked publicly. Because said NGO’s, no matter who they claim to be for, are certainly not on the side of the average Irish voter.

Like I say, there’s too damn many of these NGO’s throughout the western world. We need a major cull of NGO’s, not of cattle.

Hmmm

Busy fixing and sorting at the moment, stripping out rotten timber and clearing out ready for the next phase of my many projects. Have also been doing a bit of re-landscaping of one corner of the garden by relocating a bed of Heather measuring four metres by three. Which was hard graft. However, in my downtime I browse through YouTube at various medical and science blogs.

One thing that flags up in my mind, and that’s about these white fibrous blood clots embalmers have been finding. Has anyone put one of these things through the pathology lab yet?

Back when I did hospital training, it was routine for a surgeon to send anything unusual recovered during surgery to the pathology lab for analysis. These novel white and rubbery clots should have been analysed in 2021 when they were first observed. So why aren’t we hearing more outside of the scientific literature?

From my reading of the literature I’ve concluded that the new clots have been associated with low platelet counts and the COVID spike protein, be that either from multiple infections or repeated treatments with the ‘vaccine’. Unfortunately the histology is still obscure, but I’ve been able to establish one thing; the more repeat exposures to the spike protein, the higher the risk.

Now, can’t speak for anyone else, but I reckon that having more than two preventative vaccinations carries a risk, not only of the usual post vaccination suppression of the immune system you get with any jab. Which unless it’s for Yellow fever or one of the more exotic diseases, carries very little risk. However, for those in the under fifty age group, these mRNA treatments appear to carry a much greater risk from not just the novel clots, but a whole range of fatal and near fatal conditions. Any other treatment would have been pulled from the market back in mid 2021, when the problems first became known.

However, that never happened, and a lot of people were frightened into compliance by media manipulation. Now the emphasis looks like the narrative be turned against those of us who just want to be let be, by insisting (Again, against all evidence) that ‘white’ rural folk are the problem.

Some people will believe anything.

Pottering

Well, not so much pottering as potting. Bought a bunch of bedding plants and herb seeds which needed planting out and planted them. There’s a couple of vines and some trellis to go in on the south facing wall of the shed we’ve just had re-roofed. It all makes work etc.

There’s ground to clear, and still a few stumps to get rid of. When I was younger I could clear (By hand with axe, saw and shovel) around ten or twelve forty year old fruit trees from an orchard per day and then have the energy for a number of other heavy tasks before riding thirty miles back home. Nowadays three or four is about my limit and I have to go and sit down to recover.

So yesterday’s rain came as a relief. Although I was pleasantly surprised by a visit from a tree surgeon under contract to ESB, Ireland’s electrickery board, saying that he had come to look at the lines crossing our land, and to chop down any branches or trees that threatened to get in the way of the cables, buckshee, free of charge. I didn’t quite take his arm off, as the saying goes, but played the co-operative landowner and said, well, I’d take his advice, and was more than happy to point out areas of possible encroachment. Which will save me some money, as I’ve been looking at that area with a view to doing some serious tree chopping myself.

Also on the positive side, the meat fish and eggs only diet means I’m feeling the weight drop off like melting wax. The downside of which means by late spring all my old clothes will fit like oversized bin bags. Some I can get re-tailored, some not. All I know is that the money I’ve been saving on not buying junk food will probably have to go on a whole new wardrobe.

In the news, I notice that the farmers protests are still escalating in face of the nut zero nonsense. None of my neighbours have mentioned anything, so if any of them are planning to protest in Dublin, they’re keeping their cards very close to their chest.

Also noted are the Islamist riots in London and threats to UK MP’s. Well I can’t say I’m surprised. Let in those from a hostile ideology incompatible with western liberal values, and this is what you will get. The real barbarians, as I have observed before, already inside the gates, are messing up the living room, hogging the couch and Xbox with their booted feet up on the coffee table demanding more Nachos and playing grab-ass with every comely young female within reach.

As for middle class, unsure of even what sex they are, white kids chanting the racist slogan “from the river to the sea”, Can’t they see that this just makes the situation between Israel and Palestine worse? Israel kicked off with it’s current round of atrocities by reacting to yet another round of atrocities committed by Hamas. It’s a vicious circle that won’t end until there are some grown ups in the room, on both sides. Simply screaming abuse from the sidelines is like a bloodthirsty crowd egging on two semi-exhausted bare knuckle boxers.

These middle class chanters should try taking their sexual politics into Gaza. It might be both an eye opening (and closing) experience for them.

Put simply, you don’t stop a fight by continually attacking your tribal ‘enemy’. This is a simple rule, both in politics and life. You don’t go after someone again and again, then crying “But I’m the victim!” when you get the crap beaten out of you. At some point you’ve got to wind your neck in and get on with the rest of your life, getting ‘revenge’ by making a success of what you have. Hamas and their supporters seem not to understand this simple principle.

The problem is that the Hamas position has no live or let live in it. No tolerance, and in continually pushing at the dead sea pedestrians they elicit major pushback, losing territory every time. Which is why people (on both sides) are so angry at each other all the flaming time.

Maybe I’m being hopelessly naïve, but perhaps both sides could do something radical, like stop trying to kill each other for a while? Accept each others existence and try to make the best of things like the rest of us?

Sod it, the garden calls, and I’m looking at fitting more trellis and planting a vine or two on a south facing wall. I’ve always fancied trying to grow grapes. Maybe there’s a sheltered enough spot for a fig tree?

We all have to create our own little piece of heaven where we can, because no-one is going to do it for us. You won’t get it by voting or shouting the odds, you’ll only get it by doing. There’s a life lesson in there somewhere.

Going wholesale

Lots of things happening and so little time left to blog. Although ‘pooter problems have rather put a crimp in that activity. By way of illustration, one of my machines has been resurrected so many times it’s got a season ticket.

However, for the first time in a couple of weeks I’ve had time to sit back and recount the deeds of the day. The first of which was the arrival of a brand new chest freezer last week, which now lives in our refurbished boiler house, which has been sealed, patched, de-infested, painted and a brand new security lock on the door. I’ve also reinforced the frame, so anyone trying to kick that one in, like they did to one of my neighbours a while back, will only end up with a very poorly ankle.

Then said freezer has had to be filled with enough grub to keep us going through the Winter. The idea being that this will cut down on journeys to the supermarket as we now have enough freezer storage to rival a small village shop. So we will be shopping at the wholesalers once a month rather than a supermarket. Overall this will mean at least two layers of savings. The first being on short hops out twice a week as a saving on gas (Petrol / Diesel), the second buying at wholesale prices rather than retail. Then there’s the time I won’t spend standing in checkout queues. Which is all good. Also when I’m ready to crop in the greenhouse or from the Veg patch it all gets frozen and stored. That being the case our new kit should pay for itself in less than a year.

The weather here in the wilder west is still a bit Autumnal, like it has been from June through to the end of August. We were promised twenty Celsius today, but I don’t see it getting much past eighteen. Was hoping to give our lawns a light cut, but they’re still too damp for our little electric mower. Maybe Sunday afternoon. Or Monday. Met Eirann has promised us a dry spell, but I’m not holding my breath.

As for the rest of the property, the only real success on the growing front has been with weeds. So a bit of hoeing has been par for the course, for which my back is now punishing me. However, I’ve hit the brambles hard enough to keep them under control, so that’s okay. I have my Shiatsu Massage pad deployed, which helps.

Haven’t been paying much attention to the news of late, apart from having a mild chortle at the failure of these ULEZ schemes at the hands of a bunch of guys calling themselves ‘blade runners’. Then there’s Trump’s continual political persecution on specious grounds. The continuing failure of Ukraine against the Russki’s. Oh, and a little thing called the Digital Services Act, a piece of EU legislation which is an attempt to shut down ‘disiformation’, but as the chief purveyor of such appears to be from voices of authority like western governments, then that might lead to some very interesting cases.

Because what goes around always comes around.

All Summer in a….

Where’s it gone? Summer I mean. We’ve had a few warm dry days, but overall it’s been wetter than a Haddocks breakfast. It’s been more like late September than August. One of my Willow trees was pushed over by the wind and the rootstock, which wasn’t that well rooted, had cracked all the way through. So I took two dozen cuttings and put them in the raised beds I usually reserve for bush propagation.

Willow is dead easy to propagate, just cut a first year growth stem diagonally and either throw it in a jug of water for two weeks to develop some roots, or stick it four inches (at least) down into a damp patch of earth. Preferably with a couple of visible buds on the stem that will go under the ground. No need for rooting hormones. Willow will usually root without further assistance. Raspberries are also almost as easy. What I’ve put out for propagation will give me another two dozen trees to plant out this October. For which I have an idea.

Nonetheless, despite the wind and rain we’ve got a bit of ornamental planting done. Some Honeysuckle and Star Jasmine to decorate the roadside boundary, and some ground cover plants in pots. Mrs S and I have made some strategic decisions on where to plant a new shrubbery. There’s an old path to shift and we’re thinking about using the slabs to put in a paved area next to where the roses are blooming.

Next year I’m going to revisit where my beehives are sited, as their current location is proving far too exposed and windy. So I’ll let my remaining two hives do what they like and see if there’s any honey in September. Not that there will be much of a nectar flow in this weather. Regardless, I’ll shift the two empties closer to the sheds and reserve two new colonies for April or May.

I’ll also be planting a mixed Fuchsia, Willow and evergreen double hedge closer to the house where I don’t need to cross two acres of swamp to get to my insect workforce. There’s enough space behind my workshop to put in two parallel hedges about six metres apart, which will be where I’ll try to re-establish the apiary.

The greenhouse is working well at keeping out all the slugs and snails, the spuds are doing fine, my brassicas and tomato plants look good and I shall be buying a new combo brushcutter to keep the acre closest to the house under control. I’ll also use it to periodically attack the soft rushes plaguing my wildflower meadow.

Outside in the big wide world I hear there’s talk of more lockdowns. However I won’t be paying them any mind. I’m far too busy and the Garda won’t have any time to bother our locale anyway. Not that we see them very often. There are too many back lanes and Boreens for them to enforce any measure of movement restriction.

There’s a new chest freezer and power backup to go in the boiler house. I’ll cash in some favours for some beef. Bulk buy a few chickens with a new pen going in sometime in November.

Sometimes I think I’ve bitten off more than I can comfortably chew. Oh what the hell, I’d only be bored otherwise.

In the meantime we’re off to France next month to see if we can catch a bit of warm weather.

Swallows and snails

The sight of swallows elegantly dogfighting around our property is often a sight to gladden the heart. Unfortunately their nests can create problems. In or around my sheds I don’t care, they’re welcome to build a nest under the rafters in my workshop. Under the eaves of the house or in our open porch it’s a different matter.

Swallows and House Martins build nests in surprising places. I’ve seen them on mains cables, wedged between drainpipes and walls, but you can always tell because of the noisome droppings on the ground, which are a nuisance to clean up after, and more than a bit of a health hazard.

In order to stop the little tinkers setting up home in my porch, I spent a couple of Euros on some cheap plastic fruit netting and stapled it so that it hangs down under the porch light. Just enough so our little migrants can’t spit mud (Which is how they build their nests) into the corner of my front porch. The swallows don’t like it, as the netting touches their heads and wings as they try to find the best corner, and I’m often entertained by a outraged chittering outside the front door as a pair try to set up shop and find their way interdicted. Most of the time they get the hint and move on. All right, I know I’m contributing to the migrant homelessness ‘crisis’, but I’m a happier man because my porch doesn’t get spattered with bird shit.

The other pest problem I have is with slugs and snails, and there’s nothing for it but to generously sprinkle slug pellets around my flower and vegetable patches, otherwise I’d hardly have a blossom left. Could of course put some beer traps down, but given the taxes on beer, I’d rather the slugs and snails paid for their own alcofrolic beverages.

In the news; children and pregnant women given the Pfizer ‘vaccines’ suffered from causes directly attributed to the poorly tested, emergency use only injection the politicians were trying to force on everyone. Watch the video below.

Pity I can’t feed slug killer to the Pfizer execs and politicians, the cheerleading mainstream, the WHO and all those who pushed for us all to have this ;miracle cure’ which is as bad as the disease it was supposed to fix. As for the censors and enforcers? Blood on their hands, all of them. They’re a pest species.

Pfizer knew. The politicians knew. They conned us all.

No more trust, No forgiveness. Not fit for purpose.

Keep lemon balm

…… and carry on. I’ve taken to planting out my Lemon Balm (Melissa officinalis) seedlings. Which in a few weeks will be ready for cropping. We’re due a bit of thundery weather (allegedly) in the next few days, which should help. A bit of rain, a little sound and fury all help with the growing process.

Lemon balm is a member of the mint family with a great many health benefits which makes a great tea, which may also benefit from being taken with ice and a little vodka. Being a ‘balm’ this herb supposedly has calming and positive neurological properties. It’s distinctive lemon sherbet smell is very pleasant kept indoors in a vase and it’s also very good for insect bites and stings. There are also claims of anti-viral properties.

So I have three batches planted out, first in my experimental raised bed in the corner of our yard, in a corner of the lawn next to one of our crabapple trees, and in my small herbarium with the parsley, chives, mint and thyme. I’m told it spreads like crazy, which is fine by me. I have uses for it, both personal and hopefully commercial. See the video below on how to make the tea.

What with all the media hysteria about the weather (It’s almost Summer for heavens sake!), Trump and the coming Ukrainian failure, I think we will all need a soothing tea or three.

I intend to partake sitting outside in the sunshine watching my roses bloom.

Getting there

The Greenhouse project creeps closer to completion. Heavy glass panes keep slipping into place, and planks hung from chains will form the growing surfaces and also keep the brassica decimating slugs and snails at bay.

The weather is helping, with our normal breezes meandering off to bother other people. The next two panes were slightly heavier, and needed extra care. Fortunately these were the last two that had to be lifted over 7 feet. They are now firmly in situ.

After blocking off the end I’ll have around fifty square metres of floor space to work in, with nine suspended shelves made out of old shelving and unwanted doors. All in prime position to catch the morning sun and sheltered from the worst heat of the day and chill of night. Well, that’s the plan, anyway.

Of course it all looks a bit rough and ready at the moment, but once the internal construction scaffolding is down and being repurposed, it should pass muster. It’s certainly tough enough to handle winds around 100km/h.

Getting rid of all my broken glass is another matter. Multiple phone calls to various people all led to dead ends. Waste and recycling companies don’t want broken window glass over here. So reluctantly, I’m having to take it all to landfill.

Which goes against my personal ethos of making do with what I have. For example, old tractor tyres doubling as tree planters. My fruiting cherry for example, has put out a fine display of blossom, and I just put some pear tree cuttings in compost having recovered them off an old stump to see if they’ll take root.

No idea what I’m going to do with the fruit, but turning it into a form of alcoholic beverage might not be such a bad idea. As I said to a neighbour; “Everyone likes a drink.” Hell, one of my aunts specialised in home made wine making back in the day, so you could say I’m simply following the family tradition.

Did take a trip away to Dublin the other day, and the Eejits were out in force. One of whom, two thirds of the way along the M4, pulled over in front of us, forcing a bit of quick braking on my part, then once we’d passed, then proceeded to perform a U-turn and try to head East back down the Westbound carriageway, only to elicit lots of fist waving, horn beeping and flashing headlights from oncoming traffic.

Fortunately we witnessed this event from the safety of our rear view mirror. Unlike those who were coming up behind us. Must have been a real brown trouser event for them. Hope it doesn’t happen often.

Update: Since the car that pulled the insane U-turn was a brand new VW, I think it was probably a hire car.

Phoned

My mobile phone is having a sulk. It says I’m not playing with it enough and it keeps sending me plaintive little messages to say that I used it less than last week.

Even now it sits neglected on my desk while I go outside to work in my garden or up the meadows. I’ve even left it at home while I pop out to the shops, which doesn’t help. I swear it’s taken to glowering at me when I finally get back in the house.

To be honest there’s too much to do outside while the weather is nice. I can even take a break in the shade and watch the world go by from a Laurel shielded corner of the garden with a mug of tea, a book and a few rich tea biscuits.

My mobile phone and I are becoming more and more alienated. No one’s calling me at the moment anyway, so the intrusive little thing can stay wherever I last put it. If anyone wants to call or message me they can always leave a message and I’ll call them back. Maybe.

It’s just too nice outdoors.