Cock-Ups

There’ve been three in quick succession.

A delivery of 18 tons of road planings tore down a fence and knocked over a log pile as the knob-head artic driver decided he could actually get up our track and then discovered he couldn’t get out. Whoever strimmed the grass along the veg garden edge also strimmed a neat hole in 100 yards of rabbit fence, carefully dig six inches into the ground, so now the rabbits have eaten all of Sarah’s broccoli. And the chimney decided to smoke just when another cold snap snapped. So buggeration all round really. I’ve been rebuilding fences, repairing the veg garden, and getting up early for the sweep (a lovely chap called Colin Jones, who is an antiques removal specialist during the week and a chimney sweep at the weekend. Where else but in the country can you get your chimney swept at 7 in the morning for £20?).