Harvest and all that Jazz

We are in a state of expectation.

We are waiting for the rains to hold off just for a whole day so we can get into the barley.

I say we, rather like the Royal "we". I mean, of course, my brother and his huge monster of a harvester and all the paraphernalia that goes along with it. Two further men, two tractors and trailers to take turns in unloading the machine and carting off to the grain store. If we have some stiff winds and the corn dries there will be no need to go to the expense of artificial drying. Cereals of any description cannot be stored wet and the moisture content of the crop is measured frequently for the optimum content before cutting. To dry after harvesting costs huge amounts of money and of course this eats into profits; what little there is.

I can hear him now, he is cutting round the edge of the field with a clipper and cutting down the overgrown driveway where he will take his great lumbering machine. Its a huge logistical problem just getting the machine here. We cannot afford or indeed justify a machine of our own as they cost something in the order of £250,000.00. This jobbie has to cut around 2000 acres all told for the four farms it will service. It will labour from dawn to dusk.

It might be our turn first this year.

My brother contract farms for us and we have to wait our turn.

Its a case of whoever has the correct moisture reading on the day gets the machine first. Ours is looking good. We stand very high here and with a good wind and some strong sun we should be in pole position. Dad's farm lies just over the hill, across the river and he waits also. Second on the grid.

Harvest, a bit like charity, should begin at home I think he feels, but not when you are a contractor, oh dear me no. Poor old dad, he still finds this hard to stomach. He keeps ringing me to "see if they are here yet" so he can come up and watch proceedings as brother won't be doing it right - oh no no no. You can imagine. 82 years of experience versus 47. No contest really.

I took this photograph yesterday afternoon - Tuesday - whilst on my walk, looking back across the barley to the farm. I try to do at least 10,000 steps a day - the recommended amount. Who recommended I can't actually recall but it sticks with me. I have a friend who is a House mother in a Boarding House at the local Prep School in a huge old building and she recorded 15,000 steps just during a day's work!

I actually do something in the region of 14,000 on average as I am always outside, walking to and fro somewhere on this farm. It is 35 big steps from my kitchen sink, through the hall, through the dining room into the office so I can soon clock them up. 500 steps to the pond. You get my drift.

Anyway, on this particular day, I have my Ipod attached just to help me along a bit. All sorts of random bit of music, skipping from country to jazz, to rock. When I first got this little toy I was not connected to the internet and therefore it is just loaded with songs with no titles. So it sort of skips from one track to another, rather than plays a whole album. Anyway its a bit like me, skipping along to old Van M, and then racing along with Shania and dreaming with Josh G.

But all the time waiting.

Waiting for harvest.

Confessions of a serial mower - Out in front

Its not often that I am rendered speechless, but Saturday was such an occasion.

We had accepted an invitation to watch Goddaughter give her final speech at Parents' Day at Saint Felix at Southwold and to partake of a picnic lunch on the lawns afterwards.
This is now a co-educational private School, having educated at least seven members and three generations of goddaughters' maternal and paternal family.Her grandmother is a GP, still practicing at 80. One of her aunts if a published historical author. Her mother an accomplished cook. An illustrious lot let me tell you.
We were highly honoured to be included with the family and all these old "Felicians"!

I had offered to make the pudding and actually pulled off a mixed berry fruit mould which finally set and plopped out of its dish on command, in true Delia fashion.
A triumph!!

We met in the entrance to the School at the appointed time of 10.30 sharp! The two grandmothers, mother, father, etc etc and GOH and I. My friend had requested that we dress smart casual for a summer picnic.
Don't you just hate that phrase? "Smart" - I know where I am; "Casual" I can do.
We duly complied and waited to be seated at the back of the assembled 900 pupils and guests, with hopefully, a good view of "precious girl".

Not a bit of it; there we were, being ushered to the front. Yes, the front row in direct line with the podium and all the great and the good Governors seated on the stage! I could hear the folks behind saying "who the hell are they" - with good reason.

"I think there has been some mistake" I muttered as I was shown to my seat. My name was marked on the seat. The grandmothers being seated about halfway back down the hall somewhere with the "also rans"!
Utter Embarrassment.
I am now looking round at the Chanel and Prada numbers seated behind me wishing to goodness my smart casual was a bit more Ascot than Country Show! One such lady is a very well known actress off the telly. Holy Moly, what was going on.

Turns out GOH has now been appointed as official Building Surveyor to the School and his name had been noticed on the guest list and thus we had been elevated to the front! He also, from where I was sitting, appeared to have scored a hit with the Head of Governors and Head of History, both females! Oh yes, old smoothie is jolly useful at times. If only I had known in advance!

Poor "precious one" has to then climb the stage and do her speech with us sitting bang slap in the front opposite her. She was wonderful it has to be said and received well deserved prolonged applause. She even received a bronze statue in recognition of her contribution to school life and sport. GOH of course couldn't resist the temptation to take a quick snap of her, in all her glory!! And here she is - da da!!!

The guest speaker was an old Felician girl who has gone on to be a Major in the Army, and had done stints in the Falklands, Northern Ireland and Iraq. She was hysterical and an inspiration to all there. Male and Female. She would take no prisoners. She extolled the virtues of a good sound education. She stood strong, stocky and solid. You would want her on your side and at your side. I felt somewhat heartened that women like this are in our forces.

She trained at Sandhurst and gave us some details of what the recruits are like these days. She said that 50% of new recruits into the Army have the reading age of 9. Nine! I could feel my jaw drop. It appears that the Army then has to educate the new intake until they have the reading age of 15. This then enables them to read instructions, commands and maps etc.
God Almighty, and these poor souls are given guns!
I have no doubt that her words were true. The audience in general around her looked shocked. The teaching staff did not.

She then went on to give us a small insight into some of the more wittier remarks found on the reports of some of less bright of the new intakes. Such as "the wheel is turning but the hamster is dead", "would not breed from this young man",
"stand close enough and you will hear the ocean through his ears"!

We closed the speeches and prize giving with the School Hymn.. "He who would valiant be 'gainst all disaster...." and the School Prayer.

"O God, who shewest forth They Light in every age; we thank Thee for Thy Servant,
Felix, The Apostle of East Anglia.
Grant unto all who teach and learn in the School called by his name,

to serve Thee here with energy and love, and ever spread the knowledge of Thy Truth.
Through Jesus Christ our Lord". Amen

We then ventured out onto the playing fields for our picnic lunch of smoked salmon, champagne, salads and fruit mould with proper china, crystal glasses and linen tablecloth and a distant view of the Sea.

Truly British and Proud!!

The sun even shone down on our smart casual little ensemble!

The grandmothers appear to have forgiven us!

Confessions of a serial mower - Five things to Perk me up

I suppose I am very lucky in that I don't suffer from deep depressions and am usually quite upbeat, despite always seeming to be ill with something or another.


Anyway, Muddie, bless her, has tagged me and I am therefore endeavouring to think of five things that I do/turn to to pick me up from a low mood.

1. Well I think you all know by now my shoe compulsion. I have to admit it is not as bad as it once was. We have a one in, one out (pair) policy here now and this does help. I do like to keep my new shoes in their boxes and I like to keep them new! I get immense pleasure from a new pair of shoes and at one time used to have a Bally factory shop about 25 miles away and this was were I would head for a serious bit of retail therapy.


2. Reiki. I first discovered this when I was staying at Ragdale Hall Health Spa, having won a de-stressing week there in a national competition. It was a slogan what won it!! Cant for the life of me think what this witty slogan was but it must have been good. Anyway, there was a female Reiki Master in residence and I received a treatment every afternoon. With all due respect to GOH, it was better than sex. I wasn't particularly stressed when I went to the Spa, but at the end of the week I was so laid back and high, it was transforming. I have never found anyone else to do this at that level but the Master I have found locally is still relaxing and worthwhile.

3. Swimming. Not being particularly fit and having dodgy joints, running and jogging etc is out of the question but swimming is something I can do easily and as well as the next man! I have a hydrotherapy pool nearby and they very kindly let me swim there, as well as exercise.
I only need 30 minutes of breast stroke laps and I am renewed. Whether it is the warmth, the water or the exercise, it does it for me every time, and every Monday.


4. The Beach. We are only 20 minutes or so away from some wonderful Suffolk beaches and the North Sea. So, along with a lot of you I walk the beach. Just the smell of sea air lifts my mood. If we are abroad, we now always holiday near a beach and ocean. It pulls me, it draws me, it sucks me in and spits me out refreshed. I just feel cleansed.


5. I watch the movies "Pretty Woman" or "Father of the Bride" and they never fail to lift my mood.


Having read the above, they seem pretty ordinary things and nothing earth shattering, but when you are low I think routine is good and simple is safe.


Well, Muddie that's me done. I think most of us have run the relay now and I can drop the baton.

Confessions of a serial mower - A lost friend

I used to have four very best close girl friends, now I have three. I lost one because of an Internet porn site. Let me explain.

My best friends were all gathered from my teenage years, I never seemed to make best friends at School, living as we did on a remote farm in Suffolk. We were quite a self sufficient little family; dad, mum, my brother and I, living on the farm owned then by my Grandfather.
Never felt I missed out; I had a female cousin of the same age who lived just down the road, and of course I had my little brother to fuss over. I had friends at School, just not best friends. I was rather a studious swot of a child, and no one particularly likes a smart a**e! I had the reading age of a 12 year old when I was 7. I remember someone from the Education Authority coming out to test me. I recall sitting an examination when I was 7 and getting 100%, thus prompting this official visit I imagine from someone in authority to check my score and re-test me to ensure the teacher had not cheated.

This rather singled me out; I had lots of people who wanted to sit near me for the answers, but no special friend. I remember having to sit next to another girl a year older so that I could help her with her math. I pretty much taught myself from about 8 until I progressed into further education.

You may recall I blogged on the other site about the fact that I could read a newspaper at four. So the Janet and John books etc were rather wasted on me.

Anyway I digress.

I gathered best friends once I started work and found people who were comfortable with me. I looked just like any other 17/18 year old with skirts up to my bum, the latest makeup and hairdo, but with a rather enquiring, well read brain. I had read Solzhenitsyn etc at fourteen and all sorts of books that I would baulk at my 16 year old niece reading now. I am sure she has though. She also got the brains.

So, one of my best friends (S) was gathered up from the local Young Farmers’ Club. I had never met her before, but she lived only about 5 miles from me. She was five years older but seemed my age – 18. She looked like me, laughed at the same things I did, was very bright and well read though not privately educated, and liked the same men – but not, luckily at the same time!! We shared many boyfriends over the years – I say boyfriends, as opposed to lovers, because in those heady young days, one did not sleep with the boys. Well we never anyway. Daft or what?
Remember, I had Grandfather at home, and would be out on my ear if I brought “shame” on the family!

I have to say here that consequently I still have loads of men friends who are ex boyfriends with none of the embarrassment of having slept with them!!

I remember being at a very smart dinner party when one of these old boyfriends, now quite famous actually, boomed across the table – “old stick, did I ever bed you. I can’t remember”!!!
My reply, and for once I had the right one!! “Well I think you have answered your own question. You would have certainly remembered if you had!!” Boom Boom.

Anyway my best friend and I were known as the “terrible twos” – you never found one without the other. And thus it continued. An extraordinary closeness.
Her husband cheated on her after 20 years of marriage with a “friend” and left her with two boys. She had a breakdown and I helped her and supported her through that entire trauma as she had supported me through many difficult times and broken dreams.

She gradually came out of her shell and started dating a much younger single chap who farmed with his elderly parents. She met him at a charity event she helped organize.
He seemed sweet and kind, if somewhat unworldly (ha ha) and just what the Doctor ordered.
He had a house on the family farm and no longer actually lived with his parents. He kept her a secret from them and from his hunting, shooting, fishing friends. S being 20 years older than him with two boys from a failed marriage and not of the same breeding!! I kid you not.
She told me once that they were driving along when he saw his father approaching from the opposite direction and he “shoved her into the foot well of the passenger seat” so she would not be seen.
I did not approve and found it hard not to keep warning her of the disaster I saw looming. She just made excuses for him the whole time. Love is very blind.

He took her lovely places, bought her super jewels, gave her money to renovate her little cottage and bought her a car. This went on for at least two years and he had still not told his parents. It seemed one or two of his friends were in on the secret and she dined out with them occasionally, on the far side of the County of course.

Now my friend (S) was very computer literate and he was not. He needed a computer for the farm book keeping etc. So she helped him install a PC and got him on-line etc. etc. He went on a couple of courses. She had access to his passwords, everything. He, stupidly/luckily used the same ones for everything.
I did say he was young and very unworldly didn’t I. She was totally besotted. He did nothing for me, as young and fit as he was. He made her smile again at least.

Anyway, one day when she was working on his computer an e-mail popped into his inbox from an “adult dating agency”. Now we all get these damn things from time to time – but this was different – it was a REPLY to his WEBSITE (or a wink as it is called) on a very adult dating site!!! I would call it a porn site. People advertise themselves naked with graphic details too intimate to mention here.
Well, there were tears and ructions and everything in between. He swore he would never do it again, she said she never wanted to see him again, and promptly had another breakdown.

So back to square one, counselling, losing her job, I found her another. Building her up ready to face the world again.

Then, unbelievable she took him back. He rang to say he couldn’t live without her, would tell his parents and they would marry.
He moved in. Her boys moved out.
He lived two lives. Rushed off in the morning to the farm, had breakfast and lunch with mother, then back to S for supper and bed. They never went anywhere much – how could they – no time and someone might see them. His parents being very particular about who he mixed with – he was 35 for heavens sake! And thus it continued. He promised he had mended his ways. Was not meeting girls off the internet, only loved her and would tell his mother when the time was right. Of course, the time was never right. She was old, she was ill, she was away!!!

I thought she should ring his mother and let the "cat out of the bag" about her precious perfect son.

She says I am wrong about him and feels we cannot continue our friendship if I don’t trust him.

She has forgiven him and trusts him. GOH can’t stand him. Actually, I hate him.

I don’t hate very easily.

Now being a very nosy mouse, she told me the passwords etc to his computer when they split - and they are still the same - of course I just have to check his Website every now and again. He is still advertising but is no longer naked!
And thus it was ever so!!
I am almost, I say almost, tempted to let you have his passwords so you can all have a look at him! But you never know, I might win her back, or I might get a Wedding Invite, his mother might die or pigs might fly.

This is Suffolk after all.

Confessions of a serial mower - Singing in the Rain

Well he was amazing. Rod is THE MAN. I have never enjoyed a concert more and he was the consummate professional. Despite absolute pouring rain, thunder and lightning, he came on stage at 8.00 pm on the dot and sang his little socks off for two and a half hours. The band took a ten minute break to dry off their equipment and to mop the stage - what a star. I thought Elton John was fabulous, but Rod was in a different league - a true superstar. It took a week to build the arena, with some 150 technicians and 18 lorries of staging. It took more than a monsoon and 10 stiches in his leg from a fall last week to stop our Rod. So yes, I had an unforgettable evening. Our seats were undercover and in direct line with the stage and the mega screen behind him.
Those in the more expensive seats up against the stage got very very wet despite being issued with little blue plastic rain covers. Not a good look for all the blonde babes trying to attract his attention.
He opened his act with You wear it well and by goodness he does. For a man in his 60's he looks amazing, and very long legged for a chap only some 5'8" tall. That wife of his is a very very lucky lady.

As the heavens opened he pelted out his best known hits such as Do Ya think I'm Sexy, The First Cut is the Deepest,You're in my Heart and of course Sailing. His voice seemed to me as good as it ever was. I have never seen so many middle aged rock chick wannabe's together in one place for a very long time!! I actually felt quite young. I grew up with his music and posters on my bedroom wall.
What he made of our rather small football ground at Ipswich I have no idea after the Wembley stadium on Sunday - he was very game and kicked Celtic footballs in the crowd! We loved him for it anyway and forgave him!

I have just spoken to a friend who was taken as a treat to the concert by a member of the Football Club board - so was wined and dined beforehand, and then taken not to the Directors Box as expected, but to a front row seat which was exciting but of course it meant her rather smart clothes and shoes got totally drenched!! Anyway, she said he did look quite good even close up. I, of course, stayed totally dry in the "cheap seats".

Chrissie Hynde with the Pretenders was the warm up act and she still is a total rock chick babe of the highest order. She can still strut her stuff let me tell you.

Do I think Rod is sexy, you bet!!

Confessions of a serial mower - Peaches, no cream

My late paternal grandfather; the gentleman farmer, the rich man, the horseman, the very cruel man.
For all his airs and graces, his smart handmade suits, his car, his house on the hill, he was heartless and cold..

My grandmother, Anna, who died when I was about 11, had a horrible existence.
She was never allowed out alone.
She lived for Wednesdays.
This was the day he went to market. Whether it was the corn market or the animal auctions I cannot recall. Do you know what she dared to do then? She opened a tin peaches and ate them all! The sheer indulgence. Can you imagine? The highlight of your life, being a tin of peaches. Groceries, bread, meat, everything was delivered to the door and sometimes she managed to order a tin, without him checking the orders. She had no money of her own. He paid for and checked everything. They even had the first telephone in the village but he was the only one allowed to use it.
Who would she ring anyway? Her friends all drifted away, driven off by the fierceness of Grandfather. She became blind in her old age and grandfather put her in a home.
As far as I know, no one else had a say in the matter.
We all lived in fear of him.

She told my mum, and she in turn told me, that when she was pregnant with either my father or my aunt, she was never allowed to open the door to anyone. In case they saw “the state she had got herself in”!

Obviously they had no internal plumbing and the water was drawn from the pond.
They had a stone water filter that lived in the dairy I remember, which adjoined the scullery. The kitchen; and I can still smell that stale milk and damp stone smell, was a
brick floored, huge bare cold room with a copper in the corner and a range along one wall. It had a channel running in the floor through to the outside, for swilling out the spilt milk and floor washing water.
Romantic it was not.
My brother lives in this fine house now. With his designer kitchen, utility room, and
blackened range. The renovated water filter sits iconic in the corner. The brick floors shine with polish.
His version of events long gone are quite quite different from mine or my mothers’.

In this drinking water pond I was told a child drowned. Who she belonged to I never did discover. I knew never to go near the pond. I imagined if I did I would look down and see this little girl still lying there, staring up at me like some Hitchcock movie. I hope it was a rural myth to keep us away from the water. I fear it was not. No one stopped drinking the water anyway.

It is not a happy house, even now, for its finery. It never feels warm, it stands isolated
and alone. It affords some of the finest views in Suffolk. It still has the pond. Appearances can be so deceptive.

Confessions of a serial mower - mum "set free"

We lost mum two years ago today; it seems like last week. It feels worse than it did last year.

I have found the Service of Thanksgiving Sheet we had, and have copied below a couple of the passages from it.

On the front we had printed “Lift up your heart and share it with me, God wanted me now, he set me free” (anon). She had suffered greatly and this quote seemed appropriate.

My niece, H was 14 when mum died and she wrote the following about her beloved Grandma..
They adored each other – mum looked after her a lot when my sister in law returned to work. They spent hours together in the farm kitchen, before H was old enough to go to school and then after school.
H is now in the midst of her exams – she wants to study law - and I know grandma would be very proud of her just now.

Thoughts of Grandma Chickens

On this page I write the things I remember – things that I shall never forget.
Buns, crispy cakes, jam tarts, sausage rolls, Yorkshire puddings the size of your fist.
Oh there are too many cakes to list. All of these were cooked on the Aga by you and a little help from me.
Every time I walked into the kitchen a new smell was to be smelt, a rumbling in my stomach felt.
You taught me to knit; bears and bags. Although I could never knit as fast as you however hard I tried. When I got in a muddle it was on you which I relied.
When I was little I used to come and play with Monty and Winston in the hay. (cats)
After, we would sit on the lawn eating cucumber sandwiches and crisps, watching the fish, their tails would swish.
On a Sunday in the summer, Granddad, you and I would take the car to the fuchsia festival to take a long look at the flowers. They came in all shapes, sizes and colours; you knew most of their names.
All my memories are happy, none sad and to have these memories I am glad.
Now you live in heaven but you are still here.
I think of you when I bake cakes and tarts, although they shall never be as good as yours I fear.
These things that I was taught by you I shall never forget, they will be passed on to my children and theirs. And when they ask me who taught me such skills I shall reply in only five words – A very special Grandma Chickens. With love H xx

The photo is of H sitting in the fireplace here at Christmas last year. She is rather gorgeous and we all love her dearly. I see lots of me in her, and lots of grandma chickens in us both.