Jaunt

We be off to shiver in a slimy field in Somerset for seven days. I do not know what I could ever have done do deserve such a fine holiday.

Mysteries Above

Amos keep saying he can hear the paint cracking in our upstairs room, can hardly hear it myself. But we start to wondering whether some bees or such have entered into our loft and be busy there without us knowing. But I dursn't take a peep up there in case I see sommat nasty. After all it go to go somewhere now the woodshed is laid to waste.

Stairway

Still waiting on the Lord of the Manor to repair our stairs, the treads are cracking and splitting something rotten. Woke up all of a fluster past midnight and stumbled down in the pitch blackness narrowly not falling headlong over a cat. Maybe should open a book on whether the reapairs will happen afore one of the planks crumbles beneath our feet and breaks a femur.

The woodshed is still no more than a pile of bricks and its too hard to store logs within a pile of bricks.

On St Swithuns Day

Well on St Swithuns Day did rain, wind and sun shine one after the other all day so one could scarcely draw breath before the weather did change again so I do suppose the good saint be undecided as to the next forty days of weather.

Amos did find the half eaten skull of a badger down the bottom and the crows be eating our apples, nasty creatures.

Larking Meeting Just Retribution

Well I be out in the yard yesterday, just bid farewell to the beeman and then what did I hear? A nasty crashing grinding noise like a shed full of nails collapsing. I be worrit case the beeman backed his landrover into the wood so I thought to mysell I'll go and look over the gate and see for myself what be making that terrible noise.


Well there be four young lords out there in an open top and they done drive into the drain cover and rip their exhaust. I never had so much fun since St Lucy's day standing by the gate watching them trying to get their pipes back on. It just goes to show I said to Amos that pride always do come before a fall.

Crows are devasting the redurrants and the gander eats all the cherries.

Strangers

I be dreading this Weekend. There be a whole round of fairground rides and carnivans settled over the back of the yard. Tis every chance we could be afflicted with the sounds of merriment and joy around the clock.