Pig Surprise

We were lucky enough to have another gloriously hot sunny day, most unlike the usual Welsh Summer weather we have endured the last two years, and whilst the job list is almost as big as a disgraced MP's relocation allowance we took time out from doing stuff to doing nothing but sitting and chatting to friends who came over to visit.

First to arrive was Mr 20% and his lovely wife, swiftly followed by The Stable Sprite, his apprentice Gremlin and Chocolate Lab called Minnie. Whilst we sweltered in the sun, eating a sample of Rock HQ's sausage and a slice of the newly created Bacon there was a rustle in the hedgerow, but we weren't alarmed, it wasn't as first thought a spring clean for the May Queen (sorry inadvertently had a Zeppelin flashback) no it was Blodwin, one of the piglets.

The Berner pups rallied to our defence and whilst we hid the evidence of pig consumption they held her at bay until bored, Blodwin had a quick swim in the pond and then set off to tell the other piglets her version of Tales From The Rock, or Narrations From The Stone as they say in Germany.

Failure of epic proportions!

I had planned to do so much this holiday but Ben bringing the lurgy to Rock HQ has scuppered all plans. So instead of getting ready for Christmas by making pates, mince pies and other Christmas goodies, making Christmas presents with the sublimation printing gear (which now works thanks to me discovering the reason why the printer wasn't working was due to me having used nearly all the memory on the computer from ripping my CD collection onto the hard drive) chopping down trees and storing the logs, fixing the leak on the bath and generally crossing a load of jobs off the to do list I have been attached like a limpet to mugs of Beechams cold cure in a vain attempt to fight off the worst of the flu.

We did get over to the Stable Sprites on Tuesday night and had a jolly evening eating lasagna, contemplating the likelihood of ever getting over to Mr20%'s to try a Beef Wellington before standing in reverential silence around the bacon slicer marvelling how it cut the bacon so well. Its a testimony to how I have changed over the years, no longer do I go to visit friends to play wargames or drool over their new motorbike, no, I now get excited about going to see bacon slicers and vacuum packers.

So as I wallow in self pity I did have a major sense of humour failure when getting the Christmas tree into the house became a race against time to complete the task before the goats ate it.

Failure piles on top of failure with the end of my 30 30 challenge. Everyday for the last 17 days I have cycled for 30 minutes (7 miles) and intended to go on for 30 days. That ended yesterday as the flu got the better of me.

The good news is Ben is getting better so he is cheerful for the first time this week.

Kids, they are worse than goats!

A day of two halves!

First thing this morning as Tracey and I walked the horses back to their stables from the top of Willow Rise, as we sloshed through the muddy swamp of the Cauldron and slithered into the stream at the head of our lane, not for the first time I thought I was turning into Mad Keith. I don't mean I was suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to strip off and run naked over the hill, or cycle down an insanely steep path on a decrepit Raleigh three speed, or talk to petrol generators that inexplicably fail to start after three years on one tank of petrol, no, I didn't even want to carry the bones of a dead cat called Tim in a box on the back of my bike (actually I made that last one up but Beth believes it still) No, today as we walked the Boys back to their warm and cosy stables I felt so at peace and so happy with the world that I never wanted to leave here. Just like the technohermit who pitched up on the hill 44 years ago and hasn't moved since. Admittedly he has subsequently wished he had chosen the sunnier side of the hill but in essence he is a happy man.

In fact it takes a lot to get me away from here, work is the main cause of my absence, today being no exception so I dutifully pointed Rene down the track and set off to load another 16 tons before the big hand pointed up and the little hand throttled Mickey and it was time to come home. All that time its a strange thought that all this, and by this I mean our animal inhabitants, carry on without us. So my day is spent doing my best at work, really enjoying my work but all the time wanting to be back here where the action is.

You see there is so much going on here at the moment, the kennels having had their revamp are being tested by the weather, so far so good the ditch seems to have thwarted the dogs plans to set off in an Ark, its dry and so are they. Good news as a new dog called Casper is due to land at Rock HQ by Saturday, he will be fostered by us until he can be re homed. The poor lad is homeless, credit crunch victim, and as we are totally unable to do anything the easy way he has to come with his own problems, he is totally deaf. God knows how I am going to train a deaf dog, a colleague suggested using a torch, not to beat it with but to flash at the dog every time I want it to do something. This seemed like a workable idea until I asked how would the dog react to car headlights if following the torch regime. The thought of deaf dog chasing night time traffic prompted a rapid revision of training techniques.

We have recently purchased a home publishing and printing kit. Some of you dear readers may know that Rock HQ is part funded by sales of my toys on Ebay, all my toy soldiers have been auctioned, the dregs of the vast collection is going rapidly so we have invested in a mug and t shirt printing set up so now you can read about the animals, visit them, eat some of them and wear the t shirt. Mr 20% is currently working on a famous first draft of the life and times of two townies who have set their hearts on living the good life which hopefully will be an all time best seller as the world reacts against the misery genre of tortured kiddies and embraces a new wave of feel good faction.

And then there are the pigs, or lack of, the smallholding is smaller without them, and as I have eaten bacon or pork most days since the last lot took the long walk to Mr Whirlpool I have been plotting to get some more. Luckily current sales of the El Cid range of toy soldiers has liberated enough cash to buy two more and the Stable Sprite, being the nice kind sprite that he is has come up trumps and is selling us two little pigs at a bargain basement price.

So today, while I was rushing round at work I went out during my lunch minute to make final preparations for their arrival. I went to see Stuart the butcher in Drapers Lane and bought a second hand bacon slicer.

When the wind blows

Winter arrived early today and unfortunately a bitter north wind, rain and snow coincided with a visit from Mr20%, his lovely wife Annie and their friends and sproglets. They were en route for the Red Kite feeding centre and called in to meet and greet the animal clan of Rock HQ.

Things started well, some Ryelands looked suitably cute chomping their way through the haystack, Apollo wandered lazily around looking gorgeous and Trevor didn't bite the hand trying to feed it. Geisha goatfully stood up when they oooed and aaahed over the stable door absolutely milking the sympathy vote by limping over so she could be fussed.

The guided tour was cut short by the weather, sloshing round in freezing mud, avoiding stepping into various animal pooh whilst patting belligerent animals is an acquired taste that's not made sweeter by driving rain and biting winds and I could see that extolling the virtues of a self supporting lifestyle to captive visitors with drips on the ends of their noses was not the way to make new friends or influence people.

Trevor scuttled back to his stable, the lambs hid and I could see my guests had suffered enough so I relented and let them adjourn to the comfort and warmth of Rock HQ. Spirits were raised by hot beverages provided by Bethan and bacon rolls provided by Gerty. The adventurous amongst the group tried the venison and smoked garlic burgers courtesy of Bambi. Having convinced them all of the benefits of home cured bacon I managed to sell some plastic bags with free bacon and free pork in, the bags are so expensive to replace so I have to charge for them, whilst the children watched videos on the blog of the main ingredients.

Apollo lifts off!

10 second countdown and off!

There is something wrong with the blog so photos wont load and text comes up with errors.

So I am not able to tell you about all the things that have happened here over the last 24 hours like more bad news about Rene and the quest to find an exhaust, only Renault can provide the part and its great value at £495 plus vat, and a further £65 an hour to fit it. Bargain. Currently we are negotiating with a friendly welder, Tracey's brother to come and fix it.

Neither can I tell you about the food aid from Mr20% and his lovely wife Annie who fed us the most gorgeous ham from a Gloucester Old Spot raised by a friend of theirs in Devon and the huge donation of apples and cabbages for our pigs, who as I type this are munching their way through pounds of cherry red crab apples.

Because the blog wont load photos I cant show you the pictures of JJ's hard work where he single handed cleared 30 metres of hedge that was over shadowing the garden. His very patient lady Kay who had been promised a few days in the countryside ably assisted by dragging a seemingly endless supply of greenery down the lane to the goats who gorged themselves on the tasty foliage.

Nor can I show you pictures of Apollo in the house, having a good nose around and testing the chewiness of the sofa.

So you will just have to make do with the video of Apollo's first launch in the field, nicely fenced in with a new fence provided by JJ and Darren.

Team work!

A very big thank you to you all!

Lifes a Beach

Today I have been sunbathing.

Well I am on holiday and as I lay in the sunshine thanking my good fortune for living at The Rock it dawned on me that Tracey and I haven't actually been sunbathing since our honeymoon in Antigua in 2005. Seems like a lifetime ago, the same sun beats down but instead of the hypnotic noise of the waves gently breaking on the white sands I can hear the rhythmic munching of a Ryeland lamb called Daffodil who seems to think that the tastiest bit of grass is under my hammock.

Now you might be wondering why, given the whole host of jobs that wait to be crossed off the list I have been so indulgent as to lie sun worshipping in the garden, seemingly wasting time. You have to remember I am still nursing an arm that is broken, held together at an odd angle by space age technology, so that does have an impact on the type of jobs I can do on the smallholding. I am also in agony from having hurt my back wrestling Meg back over the fence in a one armed demonstration of shepherding machismo. Now unable to sit, stand or lie down without making oooh oooh sounds like an excited chimp I have resolved not to do any work until the pain is at least bearable.

It is fortunate that we seem to have taken the week off where summer has finally decided to show itself and the rain is at least for today falling elsewhere. So I have been sunbathing, reading a very boring book lent to me by Mr 20%, who also popped over to see me today. He thinks that as this web site is now read by thousands of people in over 34 countries every month I should write a book. Enthusiastically I told him of my idea of a novel based on a psychopathic ex paratrooper who hears voices, discovers a body and gets mixed up in a terrorist plot to blow up the worlds biggest Elvis convention. This was not what Mr 20% had in mind, he wants me to focus on Tales From The Rock. Given the feedback the site gets perhaps he has a point.

Anyway I was getting on really well reading the book until Daffodil decided to supplement her diet by eating one of the pages, this added to the damage caused by Trevor who had already sampled the cover while I wasn't looking. All I have to do is cover the book in suncream and drop it in the dirt and it will look like most of my other books I have taken on holiday.

Tracey is on holiday too, she wasn't sunbathing though. She can start once Rene has been emptied of the 14 sacks of animal food she went and collected from Kington Farm Supplies. Its a dirty job but someones got to do it.

I just wish I could help her.

Oooh me back.

Sunday Roast

Mr20% took this picture of a future contributer to Sunday dinners and bar b ques. A Berkshire pig called Gerty.

We are having leg of pork for lunch today, Berkshires provide exceptional meat. Slow roasted in our rayburn the crackling is as perfect as the meat, served with a tart apple sauce you just cannot get a better dinner on your plate.