Two notable things happened after my last post. Firstly an eminent psychiatrist started following my blog and secondly a certain Senór James sent me a link to a great YouTuber: Andy’s Little Homestead.
Not wishing to engage the services of psychiatric help I thought I’ d follow the advice of Andy for just one day and the results were illuminating.
Half term is a great time to stop “outsourcing”. First I went for a morning walk. I felt better already. Not quite up to Annie’s workout schedule but a forty minute walk allowed me to consider the tasks for the day. Secondly it allowed me to deface the Welsh Nationalist stickers that have appeared all over my riverside walk.
Making fire all the way from scratch.
Man needs fire! Remember that your sons are watching you; learning from your example. Ever the stranger to park regulations we used “ newly fallen “ wood to cheer ourselves in the Winter chill. Like any prepper, we brought kiln dry wood and a barbeque igniter to start the survival fire. The bow drill will be next week!
You have to love Andy’s site. Any site which contains the link , “ My favourite tools – the machete” is worth my admiration. We finished our trek with simple unarmed fighting techniques. I always found apologising profusely to a potential mugger the best policy – followed by a sucker punch when my assailant had turned to leave. Again important lessons for later broadcasts from the homestead.
I guess I have a drill now!
There can be nothing as humiliating as your father in law drilling the walls on your own homestead! I had enough, I needed my own power tool! My last one went mysteriously missing after an unfortunate incident drilling a bedroom wall. My drill went through to my daughter’s room wall and skewered her favourite Teddy bear. She awoke to the sight of a daemon teddy spinning wildly on the tip of my drill protruding from the next room! She has recovered now ( just! ). My old drill, like my DVD of the Wolf of Wallstreet had gone but unlike the DVD , it could be replaced.
it was fixed! We were no longer the only house in the street where a bazooka round may have impacted. Andy may have a new goat pen but I had a new drill and the satisfaction of fixing the vent was amazing!
The above may not look much but to me it was another chance to exhibit the new me. Two footballs and a basketball had gone over the fence to lay in a railway line graveyard. My youngest son’s eyes filled up. Could the reluctant hero help? It was dangerous, you could be fined, what did it matter?
It mattered to me! It’s difficult to capture the sheer fear that gripped me balancing on top of a plastic bin whilst manoeuvring a step ladder over the fence. Like Santa punching an expectant line of kids, I was assured that it was a disturbing site but you could not take your eyes off the scene!