Confessions of a serial mower - back to normal

Today is property day in our local rag the East Anglian Daily Times, www.eadt.co.uk, and looking through the property section I was shocked by the property prices. I shouldn’t be, I used to work in that industry for one of the top Estate Agents in the Country no less, in a previous life. That’s the one before GOH. I married quite late at 28, so I had a varied work life until I settled down. My first job, at 18 was with said Estate Agents. As the new girl, I obviously got the rubbish jobs, but gradually worked my way up through the departments, ending in Land Agency. My boss managed large country farm Estates across East Anglia.
My favourite department however was property sales; writing up the sales literature and chatting up the "punters"; we had far more poetic licence in those days. We could say all sorts of flowery things to describe the most hideous of structures and stretch the truth more than somewhat.
Now one has to be particularly careful, with the Trades Description Act etc (CL take note!). "Quaint little gem, ripe for renovation, slightly uneven walls with authentic interior", now has to read, “totally derelict with structural damage, woodworm and deathwatch beetle”. Not so appealing is it.
Anyway, what I am trying to say is that once involved in that industry it’s hard not to always be looking and checking out what’s hit the market. Today I am still constantly amazed by the prices. A fabulous house, but not palatial, has just come on the market near us, after several generations in one family at some £6,000.000. Six million. Blimey O’reilly that’s some commission.
It’s not even an Estate, it has about 10 acres and it’s in dear old remote Suffolk. Not central London or the Home Counties. Whatever are prices there doing now I wonder. Well I know, I also indulge in Country Life Magazine now and again.

We bought our farm some 17 years ago; we acquired the land in 1989 and took possession of the house the following year (via Farmer's Weekly I think).
This enabled the outgoing farmer to build his super new retirement bungalow on land he retained, and gave us breathing space to sell our pretty, quaint, quirky thatched cottage nearby. We were let down several times with our cottage sale (nothing new there then) and finally sold to an already elderly couple from Scotland. They were the least likely of our prospective purchasers we thought to make an offer; the gentleman was huge and tall, our ceiling heights varied to put in mildly. His good lady was a sweetie but with "dicky" hips, and our stairs wound round in a very precarious manner. Anyway they loved it and finally bought it and are still there. Not all elderly folks want a bungalow it would seem. When I see the couple out and about I dearly want to know if they still manage to negotiate those stairs. They were not for the faint hearted. But then them Highland folk are a tough old bunch as we know!

After all these years, and being married to an Architect, this farmhouse still has lots of things to be finished. A roof here, plastering there. A bit like a mechanics car I guess. It’s a long term, lifetime project. The farm, the buildings, and the house. In that order. It has been a huge long hard slog and I know I am very fortunate, but I do have a very soft spot in my heart for my little thatched cottage. My first home as a married woman. Is it me, or do us women get rather sentimental about houses.

Confessions of a serial mower - another ode

Its mighty confusing now we all have real names.
Now Sally is Sally, and Jane is a Jane,
But Blossom's not Blossom, am I going insane.

We all live in purpleland and my real name's
that colour.
And up at the big house, there also another!
Some folks are mice, and thats really nice.
Some girls are flowers and they hold the power.
We have men in our midst, all strong and forgiving
Whoever we are, we promote country living!

Confessions of a serial mower - ode to a comp

Promoting a comp
is not very nice
If you are small, sad and grey,
and your friends are all mice.

My poems are all witty
and filled with much ditty
Its all ended in tears
CL are just shi**y.

Confessions of a serial mower - CSI Suffolk

Well folks - what a morning - two posts from little mousie.The announcement about the ASA findings (Advertising standards agency www.asa.org.uk) will be coming from mousie towers and not purple towers - the ablutions are taking longer than expected. I think the purple stains so!HERE IT IS...................I have received a letter from the ASA and their findings to date are, after communication with the Executive Group Publishing Director, .. the competition was not exactly a "competition" in the strictest sense of the word and was not presented as such in the magazine. What was it then.....it was a promotion!! It appears it was not a formal competition at all and therefore was not subject to the normal terms and conditions.I do not wish, as this juncture, to publish the entire letter on this site for obvious reasons. If anyone would like a copy of this I can fax or scan (hopefully) a copy to them. Let me know. You may also wish to take up your own complaint with the asa - the more that do, the more chance we have of being heard. You will of course all recall that we were asked to state that we were entering the competition in our competition blog!!You couldnt make it up could you. But then we are not used to writing fiction are we folks!!

Confessions of a serial mower - back to normal

Well kiddies, here he is, GOH and No 1 son in the red MGA sports car - the one that may have run you off the roads on Sunday if you were in the Snape area! The grey haired one is hubby in case you thought I got really lucky! Bless him he rebuilt this little beauty from scratch as it were. It was a grubby white colour and, of course,

we all wanted a red one! So it has now been resprayed, rechromed and reupholstered. It is still slightly unreliable and I have spent many a "happy" hour in lay-bys around Suffolk, as he tinkered and tweeked the engine. We have met several helpful people during these happy occasions, the world and his wife seem to enjoy tinkering with other peoples breakdowns. The joy when a car stops to offer help. The embarrassment when it is someone you know; even more so when they offer to tow you home!!

Today was pick up and learn how to use contact lenses day for GOH. All went went until this evening when they had to be removed. Not as easy as first appears and I have just extracted them, weird little suckers arent they. Never had them myself, but it seems I am now the owner by stealth! I am in charge of all the paraphernalia that goes with them. I cannot see this working - he cannot see!! We will persevere and who knows what tomorrow holds.

Confessions of a serial mower - still quite competitive

The CL Competition, the comp that keeps on giving. In the nicest possible way that is. I first started entering competitions in earnest whilst mum was ill. I would sit for hours by her bedside in hospital and at home, willing her to live and whiling away the hours reading magazines and entering quizzes. The ones that took the longest were the ones that required a slogan and thereby
my witty little ditties arose. These were the ones I would win – not many people bother if they have to write a slogan, so obviously the chances are better. I nearly won a car once. I entered a motor oil one, I got through to the finals which was a driving at a proper racetrack. We were required to drive all sorts of cars, including a Catterham 7, the £25,000.00 first prize. I even had to take an advanced driving test just outside Winchester.. I did very well, in the heats.
I failed to win as, naively; I had not done my homework. The final round was a test of knowledge on this special little car. I knew nothing – zero, zilch!! The man who won – yes it had to be a man didn’t it, knew every ruddy detailed little thing about them. Congratulations Mr Swot, you win First Prize. I learnt a lot that day.
Until the CL comp, I thought I had the whole thing sussed. Rules, agenda, small print. It seems I still have much to learn.
I was quite successful in a “not winning the car” sort of way. I have won flights to Spain, a weekend in Ireland, a week at Ragdale Hall, garden furniture and games, a huge telly which sits in the snug staring and blinking at the electronic photo frame that was the birthday present for GOH from the boys. I have various books, and cosmetics and gismos. But, in over ten years, this is the first time I ever won friends, which I seem to have done, by not winning a comp!
Of course, a few “real life” friends who have seen my little successes have all jumped on the band wagon. One won a car, one a cruise worth thousands, another a Chanel watch. Makes you want to spit doesn’t it. No slogans involved I might add and no premium rate phone calls to GMTV to my knowledge. Another competition con. There is a lot of it about it would seem. But, as they say “you’ve got to be in it to win it”! Or, maybe not!!!
I might add that I haven’t entered a single one since CL. Kinda put me off; funny that!!

Another day, another lawn. I have five this size.

Confessions of a serial mower - out and about

Whilst I was at Snape Maltings on Sunday we happened to pop into an antique shop/collectors fair and who should be in there but more of my mouse family, sitting forlornly on a shelf and I just had to bring them home. GOH felt sure the Tailor of Gloucester was reading a copy of CL but I had to remind him that this was not so, hardly anyone was these days. It was the Purplecoo Blogger. They are now nicely settled and love their abode.

Snape is situated near the coast on the river Alde in the heart of vegetable growing country on very sandy light soil. I am afraid Darkhorse came to mind as we drove past mile upon mile of plastic sheeting covering the valuable potato crops. It doesn’t look very pretty and in fact looks at first glance like acres of water. The potatoes are well advanced because of it and thus we are able to compete with the foreign imports because of it. Jersey Royals are in the shops now and shortly the Suffolk equivalent will be. The “crane fly” looking irrigators were out in force, watering the very thirsty carrot crops. We dodged them successfully in GOH little sports car as they watered the road as well as the soil. The roads hereabouts are covered with sand; when the wind blows, the soil erosion is very severe, and the soil ends up in the highway. Once heath land, now reclaimed agricultural land, forever trying to get back to its own roots. We moan about our heavy clay soil here inland, but on the coastal belt farmers are fighting another battle with mother nature. Nature nearly always wins. It’s simply in the scheme of things.' Nature will out' is a favourite saying of dad.
It was the most wonderful day, cloudless sky and a light wind; it felt more like June than April. The “Sunday drivers” were out in force, of course we were one of them, but this fact was lost of GOH who just likes to get from A to B without too much hanging around if you get my drift. GOH, another force of nature!