Another bloody night

We are used to Geisha sleeping under our window snoring through the night. Sometimes it wakes us, most times we can filter it out, its background noise like a fridge humming.

Last night we were woken by the sounds of murder in the hen house. Tracey got there first and found it had been emptied except for the white hen that survived Kitlers attack a few months back. There are rumours that urban foxes are trapped and released on the hills around us, they, having no idea how to hunt anything more animated than a bin are allegedly hunting in packs.

After a pointless search of Rock HQs extensive cliffs and gullies we went back to bed at half four leaving the horses wondering why we were up so early, and, more importantly, if we had made the effort to get up the hill to see them why didn't we take an early breakfast. Tracey had seen a fox just before I got to her, it was intent on collecting the last white hen so we, and she, were lucky.

In the dreak light of day we found evidence of more than one fox had been here. A classic pincer movement, the barn was robbed of its two Black Rocks that perch above the pigs, the feather and chaos of the visit was everywhere. In the lane a sad collection of pretty gold feathers from the bantams, by the kennel the striped grey and whites of the Marron and inside the hen house more black rock decorated the floor. Total is six hens missing presumed dead.

I don't think it was a pack of urban foxes, more likely a Vixen and cubs. Once The Great To Do is over I will have to dedicate some time to sorting them out. 80 birds in 12 months is a bit greedy.

48 hours to go

With exactly 48 hours to go to the start of The Great To Do, The Offas Dyke Ordeal, there are one or two flies in the ointment of life who are currently doing the backstroke to see how much irritation they can cause before we set off.

The positives are many, we have been overwhelmed by the generosity of sponsors and whilst there are a few left to sell it looks like the target of selling 178 miles will be reached, so many thanks to you all, keep sending your donations though, if you pay enough I will walk back again. Only joking.

Last night we were given a box of boil in the bag rations which included non meat burgers and beans for the picky eater amongst the group, Sara isn't really a veggie, shes just fussy. One bag I am interested in trying is a lamb curry made from halal meat. Army rations have certainly changed from tinned pink gop masquerading as meat.

Fly one is not having a back pack. I will qualify that, I have more rucksacks than you would ever want ranging from a 100 litre with 20 litre side pocket add ons, 20 litre day sacks, 45 litre alpine climbing rucksacks and so on. What I decided I needed for this venture was a 65 litre bag which since I ordered it over a week ago has changed colour (sorry colour advertised no longer available) and is now somewhere between Rock HQ and Wakefield. Quite why is has taken so long to get here is a mystery, as is fly two who has made off with my trousers.

Now I can forget things, mostly like where I put stuff or more commonly to put things away. Just before the BBMC I remembered something about my Craghopper walking trousers. What was it? Ah yes, I have ripped them, a huge tear just over the left leg pocket revealing a very fetching peice of thigh. No problem I will sow it, or not. Not. I forgot, and being a double hard so and so set off into the fierce summer storm with leaky trousers. However, this was not the only hole in them. It was only at the half way stage when I was sat on a grassy knoll surveying the path whilst eating the compulsory cheese and tomato, chatting to passers by, women mainly who were also on the great trek that I remembered the fact that I had ripped my trousers before the obvious leg tear. I was in fact doing my own version of Privates on Parade sat there in the countryside as the crotch had split along the seam. I finished the walk wet and walking funny.

So they needed replacing, and they have been but the two pairs of replacements are now somewhere between here and Scotland, apparently the post room suffered a malfunction and delayed the dispatch of my trousers.

Strange really considering both these items were bought and paid for in the UK whilst a North Face jacket I ordered from Beijing, China, five days ago arrived in good time.

Fingers crossed that my new rucksack arrives tomorrow or I will be faced with the dilemma of which carrier bag to use, Co-op or Aldi. Probably the one that covers the most of my leg.

A likely story

This is the Whet stone, it features prominently on the hill next to ours, which you can see in the background. Now this stone has many tales attached to it, it was apparently used as a table for goods left out during the plagues of the 14th century, so goods would be left and later collected and money left in its place. Its also pinning down the Devil who is buried underneath it.

Today I discovered another likely story associated with this massive piece of rock. Every morning it wanders down from the hill and takes a drink from the stream before wandering back again.

Hi Honey, I'm home!

Geisha just loves to be involved with all that goes on here at Rock HQ. Here she is making an appearance at the sitting room window.

Take a horse to water

This picture shows you can, Apollo is "helping" fill the plastic boat that doubles as their water trough. Admittedly his help entails knocking the pipe out of the boat forcing yours truly to march back up the hill to put it back before racing back down again to out the other end back on the tap. The too and fro antics could be stopped by the judicious application of a jubilee clip one end and a sharp smack on the nose at the other. Until then the game continues until either the boat fills, Apollo gets bored or I keel over from exhaustion.

Still its all good training for The Great To Do, walking Offas Dyke in 6 days. The news that I am contemplating this trek has had a strange effect on our neighbours. The Oracle when he heard dug deep into his pocket and handed over a well worn fiver as a contribution. I had to promise not to spend it in the first pub I came across along the trail before he let go of it completely.

Mad Keith spotted the Prostate Cancer T shirt I was wearing when I dropped off his chicken and chips tonight. This sparked a fascinating exploration of his medical history which included graphic details of several operations, hugely interesting facts that he got up 8 times in the night to pee and several medical diagrams scratched into the dirt to illustrate certain technical points. During his gleeful descriptions I wondered how my chicken and chips eaten half an hour earlier was managing to remain in place and not add a Technicolour aspect to his anatomical drawings.

By the time I got back to Rock HQ the technohermit had phoned ahead and promised Tracey some money to support the walk as he saw it as ultimately helping him with his little problem. She did look pale when I walked in. It seems Mad Keith had been equally graphic on the phone. I had seen the diagrams and if too scale it was anything but a little problem.

101 uses for an Rx4

Use 37

Cat house

Pocket Rocket in flight

Trevor spent a happy five minutes racing around tonight keeping us all entertained!

The sunshine continues giving us all new challenges, like getting last years shorts to fit or getting the goats to sit in the shade rather than cook in a sunbeam.

I did intend to get another training walk in tonight as The Great To Do is perilously close, but events overtook me and once I had dismantled the barricade constructed by the piglets (who obviously know I am the bacon butties number one fan so they have constructed a two foot deep barrier that prevents access to their sty) watered the garden and horses (very different techniques used here) fetched the goats, rounded up a wandering beagle who set off across the fields on a mission, got lost, panicked and ran in the opposite direction, it left very little time to entertain Mad Keith who appeared on the track with his bicycle and demijohn.

Seems like the weather has dried up his spring, or rather reduced the flow to such a level that its not fit to drink without boiling. Given the amount of wildlife and vegetation that's suspended in it when its at full flow I would consider it sensible not to drink it full stop but he has survived 45 odd years (some very odd) so it cant be too bad. Or hes immune.

Anyway, glass of squash, conversation about how hot it was, second glass of squash, more tales of how its hot, or too cold, never just right he set off with his eight pints of Rock HQ spring water.

By now any hope of exercise had faded along with the daylight so Tracey and I finished the rounds, got the kids inside and had a bacon omelet, all our own work.

Tomorrow I plan to get up early and definitely exercise before anything distracts me.

Chances of that happening?

Pig club - the documentary

This clip was filmed yesterday and for once I sound like I know what I am talking about.

Tonight has been one of those pleasant evenings spent with friends watching them do your jobs. As The Stable Sprite is custodian of the bacon slicer we share I took over half of Patches pig in bags to be transformed into rashers. This is an essential exercise, first and foremost it stops me eating three pound of bacon in a buttie as I hack at Patches remains with a blunt knife.

We sat in the sunshine eating salad and quiche (real men have always eaten quiche) marvelling at the joys of smallholding and wishing we had been able to do it years ago. The Stable Sprite is a bit of a chef and salad was soon followed by home made profiteroles and chocolate sauce. Fantastic.

So after dinner on the sundrenched terrace it was down to work, the slicer was plugged in and pretty soon The Stable Sprite was piling up the rashers. I had the tricky task of making appreciative noises and distracting him from how long he was actually spending cutting up my bacon. By nightfall I had three carrier bags of potential bacon butties and he had a sore arm from working the machine.

It wasnt all plain sailing for me though, I did make a coffee for him, well its the least I could do.