Monty Visits the Vet'.

Aren't vet's surgeries depressing places. Sterile, usually over heated, and filled with sick and dying animals.

Monty waits patiently. He's already said 'Hi' to all the other patients, and watches intently as they all take their turn in the torture chamber.

His turn soon arrives. He's poked, has his boy's bits counted, and his insides listened to. Then he has an electronic chip planted under his skin, and receives a jab against all those nasty doggy things.

He yelped just a tiny bit; but otherwise all was OK (other than the bill). Who's a good boy then.

Haddock's. 8am. Wednesday 9th March 2011.

The early morning sun is shining, the sky is clear, and there's plum blossom on the trees. But there's no denying; Haddock's is a total mess! (For anyone who doesn't know; Haddock's is my veg' garden)

I've attempted to rotovate some of the weeds away, but my machine really isn't up to the job (I bought a cheap one).

I'm not intending to plant or sow as yet, but I like to keep things looking as if someone has been paying attention.

However, on the plus side, we are still harvesting Sprouts, Leeks, Kale, Carrots, Spinach, Chard, and Broccoli. As well as having Onions, Potatoes, and Butternuts in storage. Our bottles of Tomato-based preserves are healthy, and we still have plenty of jams, jellies, and pickles. (Oh, and I still have one HUGE cabbage)

The two black blobs (just left of centre) are the Rhubarb forcing pots. Things beneath are stiring; crumbles not far ahead!

Fancy-Tickling Towns.

What towns tickle YOUR fancy?

If I was to live in Canada, I would certainly want to be in Medicine Hat; where else!

In the US of A, it would have to be Chattanooga; just to see the Choo Choo. In England, Scratchy Bottom; of course. In France, Condom (not really). In Denmark, Middlefart. And in Austria, I'd definitely want to live in Fucking.

But if by chance I was to return to live in Wales, then where else than in the above; Llanfair something something goggy goggy blah blah sillio etc etc. (Their town sign post begins just outside Molly's farm, and ends in Anglesea!)

Slum-Chic!

Like most young people who lived in London (in my case between 64-68); I moved a lot. Sometimes I would only stay in a new flat for a matter of weeks.

When I left school I worked in The City and my first bed-sit was in Bayswater; I think I was there for 6 months. Then for some bizarre reason I moved to Paddington Street, where I shared a tiny flat with an old school friend.

For those of you who know London, Paddington Street is not in Paddington; it's in Marylebone W1. On the other side of Oxford Street from Mayfair. Smart-ville, cosy-land, rich folk. But our small flat was a SLUM; ess ell you emm. Maybe it was the only true slum in fashionable W1.

There were huge bracket-mushrooms growing on the stairwell walls, the 'facilities' were Dickensian (sorry Dickens), and everywhere was damp.

The house was owned by an unwholesome so-called antique restorer, who had his workshop on the ground floor. He was a nasty, ugly, little man who spent his evenings either in cheap Soho strip joints, or even cheaper Kings Cross brothels.

One evening I returned home to find my flat mate and the owner rolling about on the floor in a full-on fist fight. I watched for a while wondering quite what to do, then picked the owner up by his collar and gave him a hefty single blow to the chin. This stopped the fight instantly (and almost broke my fist).

We were, of course, ordered to be out of the house by 9am the following morning, which we were quite happy about; other than having nowhere to go or put our stuff.

Most of our things we surreptitiously stored in the empty basement of a Launderette next door. This was later bricked up by the owner; I imagine all our stuff is still there to this day!

It's amazing what one puts up with when you're young. Did you have any similar rental experiences?

Happiness is....

This may sound odd, but happiness for me really is......a new blade on the chainsaw.

I've just fitted a new blade to my trusty smallish Husqvarna, and it glides through these hefty oak logs in an instant. We both heat and cook with wood, so when you have to do as much log-sawing as we do; a good blade is essential.

My neighbour has just offered me a whole load more Chestnut; the type that comes in 'tree' form. It'll keep me and the Husqvarna busy for weeks. As I've said before; there's nowt like a good stock of logs; we'll soon have enough for up until 2015 (or even later).

There's an old saying that 'Sawing (or chopping) wood, warms you twice'. It certainly does!

Wills and Kellogg (Aaaaaaah).

What does life hold for our children? We watch them grow, help them develop, and (probably wrongly) have our aspirations.

The youngest fruit of my loins (above), was born in the wonderful old French bastide town of Villeneuve sur Lot. His beautiful girlfriend is Swedish/Russian.

Wills is not only a very bright boy, he is also a very sensible one. He definitely sees the world as his oyster, and takes advantage of all it has to offer. He works a bit, travels a bit, then spends his winters on some idyllic sun-kissed tropical beach. This year he has given the honour to Thailand, from where he's managing his 'internet empire'.

I tried to raise him (and my other children) to appreciate the better things of life, although I must have gone wrong somewhere, as he's a strict veggie. He'll probably visit France in Spring; but he'll not be partaking of my carefully prepared fatted calf.

Monty, a Canine Adolescent.

Here boy....... fetch!

At just 10 weeks, Monty is growing at an alarming rate, and I've already started to teach him the basics.

He now happily understands that outdoors is one huge welcoming lavatory (and indoors isn't), he's also learning to 'sit', and I've just begun working on 'find gold coins'.

Find the coins Monty....... find the coins!