Dave gave up wearing a watch ten years ago, and he doesn’t have a mobile phone. And he loathes, I mean loathes, changing the clocks. We have a lot of clocks in the house, partly because of an Aspergery fixation he had a few years ago, when he made a lot of wooden ones. This is one he made for me, with Courage carved across the middle:
But it’s not the physical act of changing the clocks that he kicks against, it’s having it imposed on him. He hates anyone telling him what to do. And if it’s the government, he especially hates it. So his way to deal with this imposition is to take charge and change them early on the Saturday morning, the day before clock changing day. Yes, it’s annoying. Very annoying.
But the unhappy thing that happened yesterday was something else.
In 2001 I went to Centre Parcs for a few days with the family member who declines to be named, and I brought home a pine cone. I grew six pine trees from that cone. Two survived. I gave one away, and the other has been growing happily against our back garden wall to reach the height of 45 feet. My tree! I was very proud of that tree.
Yesterday I went out into the garden and found that it had been split in two, and half had fallen in our garden.
Thank you storm Austen. It’s very sad, because the tree had to be felled. The split went right through the trunk, vertically, and the damaged half could have fallen on the shed, or over the wall when there were cows in the field. Our garden is very exposed to the prevailing winds. So having checked with our farmer neighbour first, Dave got out his chain saw and felled my tree.
Today he is sawing it up and processing the greenery. He’s very handy and very hard working and I’m thankful for that.
He has left the trunk like that because he is planning to carve it into a seat for MsX to sit in when she talks to the cows.
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| April 2020 |
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