... turning three old pallets into this. There's plenty more firewood in piles at the back (from a small tree we chopped down) but I can't be bothered schlepping it all over:
Saturday, 24 March 2018
Today I have been mostly...
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3 comments:
Ahhh yes a Saturday spent getting your inner Caveman on, I remember those days (before my parents could afford central heating) well. Memories of trekking up to the local Dog Toilet (or 'woods') with me Dad, axes, bow saws and a broken pram to keep the holy Rayburn fed.
My Saturday, not that any one will be remotely interested, was spent in quiet contemplation of S.Pollington's most excellent book "Old English For Fuckwits"; some light German noun declensions and a spot of shorthand practice, before cleaning the bathroom *note to self, get a 'char'*
JK, sounds like a pleasant waste of a childhood, and indeed a pleasant waste of a Saturday.
JK, sounds like a pleasant waste of a childhood
Hardly. There's nothing pleasant about your ten year old hands being so numb from the cold of a Norfolk summer they can't feel the man sized bow saw as the ice rain fills your welly boots (cos 'he'll grow into them'), nor pushing home a pram, model 'old bag lady', of logs past all the centrally heated homes where your mates live. I suppose I should say it was character building, taught me some valuable life lesson; it didn't. Mind you when some US reality tv 'star' was grizzling about having to chop enough firewood to heat his colonial era hut I did allow myself a snigger before embarking on a rant about his lack of axing and sawing skills.
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