The Cossacks are coming!

Its been a harsh day at Rock HQ, winter tightened its grip and Arctic gear was needed as we moved around. These pics were taken before the camera froze, Tracey looking like a Cossack as she brings William to the feed station.

Everything was done slow time and under the watchful eyes of the critters who longed for centrally heated quarters.

Take cover!!

Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown has heeded the constant warnings from the media about the return of the ice age this weekend. Taking no chances she is eating her way into the hayledge where she will sit it out and wait. It seems the whole country is being terrorised by a giant snowflake that's fallen somewhere north of Glasgow and is heading down the motorway.
In our office we all got emails telling us that we should keep around 50 items in our car boots ranging from emergency distress beacons, rock salt, sandwiches, a flask of soup and a book (in case you get bored waiting rescue) this helpful emither was followed up by an invitation for all except essential staff to take leave tomorrow, those that were considered essential could work from home, those that weren't essential and had no leave left were reminded again of what to carry in their car boots.
By 4pm a snowflake had been seen in the car park, which caused mass hysteria and a rush for the exits. A final email arrived saying that as a whole 1cm of snow was absolutely almost certainly guaranteed within the next 12 hours we should go home. So we did.

Ingredients

I don't have much patience when it comes to goats at the best of times. Geisha is an exception, I can put up with her antics having nursed her back from deaths door on at least three occasions, her current bout of agoraphobic behaviour is tolerable as we are not using the trailer so she can stay in it as long as she likes. Ambrose, pictured here with her, has sealed his fate and is now on the list of ingredients found in many Caribbean dishes.
I got up really early and drove across the mountains to my office, and as is at this time of year it was dark when I arrived. My day passed, very productively, lots of wrongs righted, usual stuff for a super hero. I went out mid morning to take a translator to an interview and was a bit taken aback by the state of Vic in the car park. Now I am used to Vic looking less than pristine parked amongst the BMW's and Porches of my colleagues. But he looked dreadful, covered in mud, straw and animal prints. Not wanting to reveal to my Turkish colleague that Vic belonged to me I hurried past and carried on learning basic Turkish phrases ready for our meeting.
Back home, again in the dark, Vic was parked under the eaves of the stable and I promised to clean him after dinner. When I ventured out a few minutes later carrying a shepherd pie for the Technohermit the cause of Vic's shabby state was to be seen large as life dancing on the bonnet. Ambrose was violating Vic! A well aimed two litre bottle of highland spring put paid to his dance routine, not before fresh mud, scratches and minor dents in the roof had further reduced Vic's value.
Ambrose thinks its all forgotten and is back in the trailer. His time here has been a happy time, but plans are being made to turn him into something useful and very tasty.

Size matters

Until I tried moving it I hadn't realised how heavy and most importantly how big the water tank we bought from one of the local militia clans is. Not having a crane handy the only way to shift it from the bottom of the smallholding up to the cottage was by willpower, stamina and swearing.

Things got interesting a third of the way along the track, the steep slope added to the fun I was having dragging the dead weight behind me, you can just make out the groove the base was carving as we made unsteady progress. I did stop for air at one stage and Spotty helpfully urinated on the rope I was using to pull the tank ever onwards. Cheers. With warm dripping rope in hand I carried on with the laborious task.

Finally I got it almost to where it should be, the double doors of the workshop. The plan was to give it a good clean out with the jet washer, the tank, not the workshop, and then install it in the black hole at the back, fill it with clean water and gloat when the next ice age arrives some time next weekend. This cunning plan has several unforeseen yet now glaringly obvious drawbacks. Size mainly. Even if I did clear an eight foot wide runway through the precious things of the workshop there is no way, except by liberal use of sledgehammers and explosives, that this behemoth water bottle will get through the doorway of the black hole. The alternatives for it are being explored now, including cutting the front off and using it as a spare room.

Guest speaker

Looking for all the world like she is expecting an audience Ferny Fern Fern from Ferntown takes to the stage

not sure what she thought she would address the yet to be assembled crowd about, perhaps how rubbish British Telecoms

are at fixing phone lines, or keeping promises, or keeping customers happy. Perhaps she chose a simpler topic, because had she chosen BT she would still be talking and the crowd would have died of boredom.
We are hoping that the current line repair holds until the new poles and wires arrive.

No room at the inn...again

Space is always at a premium here at Rock HQ. No sooner have we built a shack/building then it gets filled with a beast, or two. Geisha our Anglo Nubian goat has been hating the cold weather, and as the old rabbit house is full of Beet, the goat houses have become refuges for poultry (to stop them being eaten) the back stable has pigs in it, there is no where left for her and her sidekick Ambrose. Trixie the trailer has been abandoned in an ice field that was the yard, the jockey door left open. Geisha has decided that this is hers and took up residence Tuesday. Somehow she managed to persuade us to bring her her food and water, so she has been cozy and warm waiting for the thaw. She ventured out today but clearly felt that her refuge was a better option A.N.D Q!
If only the camera had been in action today, we can take still shots (pot luck) but to have had the video facility today when the Ryelands en masse tried to walk up the lane on wet sheet ice, legs and fleece going in all directions, knocking each other over, running on the spot, stood still but sliding down hill. Fantastic!

Frozen fish

Its started raining tonight and its a tropical 3 degrees. Ice station Rock HQ looks like the worst is over for the time being. The fish who have been under five inches of ice (sledgehammered daily, the ice that is, not the fish, that would be counterproductive, Time consuming and messy) are looking forward to fresh water over the next 48 hours.

Lap it up

The ice hazard is getting worse and although we are promised a thaw for the weekend the risk to life and limb while venturing outside is massive. I did try and get some rock salt from a big bin provided by the council, but several days of minus twelve meant that it lived up to its name, rock, and no amount of chiseling got any into the bucket. Plan B involved buying some nicely warmed rock salt in 10kg bags. I would not wish to accuse the vendor of profiteering but at £9.99 a bag it might have been cheaper to chick table salt around. Anyway the job is done, where there were once sudden death slides we have gritted walkways and the salt is melting the ice in places. That and the hot breath of animals in the yard who have found it transformed from an icy playground into a giant mineral lick.