Your Sunday Crumpet.

                                

There are certain delights in England that become 'taken for granted', 'overlooked', or even 'ignored'.

The humble Pork Pie, the beautiful Battenburg Cake, or (heaven forbid) the wonderful Crumpet.

I've never attempted to make Crumpets, but why should I. They come ready made at the supermarket, and would be hard to better.

Popped into the toaster (or even better, toasted by the fire), liberally coated with butter, and eaten accompanied by a cup of Lapsang, little could come close to the sensation of 'English' well-being than that offered by a simple Crumpet.

When did you last have one? Have a good Sunday.

Yesterday.

I'm back working on the barn again. For the moment I'm just doing some outdoor work; taking advantage of our beautiful warm autumn sunshine.

I've been right at the top of a very long 3 piece ladder, painting exterior wood cladding with a type of modern odourless creosote. I can't say that I have a pathological fear of heights, but nor do I enjoy them. I grit my teeth, think of what a wonderful life I've enjoyed so far, and throw caution to the winds. Luckily no mishaps so far.

The day's set task was finished by early afternoon, so I did a spot of my own painting then settled down with a glass of wine to admire the view. It's a view that never fails to intrigue me, which is probably why I so often post pictures of it. The photo was actually taken from inside our kitchen; from the table where I take breakfast.

Lady Magnon had gone on one of her regular long dog-walking afternoons with a few of her chums and their various/numerous pooches, so I was allowed to be as busy or lazy as I chose. 

A fulfilling day, only disturbed by the sound of one or two crisp leaves falling from the vines.

Bloody marvellous.

No, Not Bok.

Black coat, nice pink tongue, and two white gloves; he looks the spitting image of our Bok (albeit thinner).

In fact this is Iggy Pup, the new-boy on the block. He lives about 500 metres away, and has immediately befriended the boys.

Our house seems to have been a magnet for other people's dogs over the years; some nice, some dreadful. One, a big beast called Solo (need I say who's dog he was!!) was a vicious bastard. We'd often have to lock the children and ourselves in the house until he'd gone for fear of being savaged. He used to wear a big black muzzle, but this didn't stop his aggression. He was a nightmare!

Luckily most have been very pleasant. We never feed them, nor do we make a fuss of them; they just turn up, play a while with our two, then go.

This present visitor (in fact there are 2 other new visitors as well) is a nice dog. He plays with Monty just as Bok used to do when they were both pups themselves.

Nowadays we have to look quite closely at Bok and Iggy Pup to know which is which. 

I thought I'd won the battle.

I recently blocked all Anonymous comments on my page, as well as those of some half-wit Irish pixie and an abusive low-life from 'gawd knows where'.

But now I find that those who'd previously left 'comments' under the alias of 'Mr Anonymous' have now reverted to fictitious names that bypass the ban.

The above, which I received a couple of days ago, is a good example. Obviously not from someone called Jacob Jackson, it has managed to infiltrate my cautious 'comment' screening.

However, I shall not change my 'open forum' comment box; I like the freedom it offers, and I hate those horrid word/number puzzles. At the same time, I would like to stop these idiots getting through the net.

Any advice would be warmly welcomed, as are all comments from those who regularly leave kind, unkind, or intelligent words. (I REFUSE to offer space to idiots, far-right or far-left Druidic loonies, or loan sharks)

p.s. The above comment has, of course, now been removed.

 

Self-Assembly Nincompoop.

OK; so who was the wise-guy who put the wheels on upside-down?

The saga of self-assembly continues. I thought I could do this with my eyes closed. It's only a matter of putting on the wheels (which I've done several times before), but when I turned it over.....

Larf? I nearly slashed my wrists!!!

In the Dog-House.

The dog pen was specifically designed to be used in good weather, when the boys would rather be left outdoors than in.

It's only really used if we both have to go out together, or if some event is taking place which involves strangers being around (in today's case, hunters and gun dogs).

They definitely like being in there; I think they see it as their own private house and garden. I only have to shout the word 'Kennel', and they rush in and make themselves comfortable.

Sometimes they settle down together in their 'Caribbean style cottage', but yesterday only Monty was in residence. Bok was flat-out on the 'lawn', recovering from a very long, hot, walk through the woods.

The 25th Annual 'Fète de la Châtaigne'.

So, here we are at our local town's two day Chestnut Fair. Of course there were plenty of Chestnuts on sale,

as well as sausages,

and some really nice looking farm produced Ewe's milk cheeses,

and various Chestnut products,

and even a few old codgers making apple juice.

I noticed that these guys were using an ancient garden-waste shredder to mince the apples before pressing. That's what I need too, I'm on the look-out for one.