The morning was dull but promising as I set out for Strathkinness, dropping down off Knock Hill, over the bridge and climbed up to Dairsie and home, nothing to write home to mummy about.
Breakfast over I loaded the trailer with gardening tools and headed for the front of the building. The post that would form the maypole was shrouded in a polythene bag to about 18 inched from its base, this would hopefully protect it from rot. A hole was dug and in it went, all pretty painless so far. However I better get it right, there was a lot of eyes on me.
There was already a flowing shrub in the middle of the plot so mostly the strings would have to be on three sides rather than four, but I did put in a few over the bush as backstays.
I had been asked to remove some ivy from the wall that was taking over the climbing rose and prune and tie in the rose back in place. Lots of praise followed by,
“The climbing roses at the front of the building are in a bit of a state – maybe – but only when you have time – you could have a look at them” ho-hum.
By the time I had cut back, tied in the roses and cleaned up after me, the snots were dripping from my nose, yes it is cold outside today, and well after 2 in the afternoon.
Coming into the house it was like walking into an oven, I showered and changed, then I dumped a large pork steak into a hot pan and set about lunch.
I was on a long weekend cycling rally in St Lo (pronounced sillo) Basse Normandie in France. It was run by the equivalent of the Cycle Touring Club here in the UK and well organised including refreshment stalls, lunch stops and a grand dinner and entertainment in the evening. It takes so much organisation that it is only held every four yeast. At one of the lunch stops was the biggest BBQ in the world, there must have been 15 – 20 behind cooking up pork steaks.
As I came forward the lad grabbed a large steak and throw it on the grill, it had hardly time to sizzle, before it was whisked off the hot bars and turn over. Then instantly it was picked up once more and as the lad was about to toss it on my plate, I cried out,
“Wo’, put it back on the fire”.
He looked at me like I was not right in the head, “burn” he said
“yes, burn” I insisted.
What is it with the French they always cook their meat in a way that leaves it still raw inside?
Today the cook received only compliments.
Another enjoyable day.
The Scottish Parliament officially rises in less than three weeks, and both reports from the enquiries into the conduct of the government’s handling of the Alex Salmond allegations must be in by then. Either Sturgeon will be gone, or Scotland will be doomed to five more years of a corrupt government, passing policies almost nobody wants and occasionally making token pretences at delivering independence the SNP has neither the intention nor the ability to achieve. But at least we will know.