Tuesday, 25 August 2015


Hard to believe it's nearly four years since LP frightened the bejeebers out of me by climbing all over our huge log stack to try and make it weather-proof and in the main it's been very successful.   Each winter when one of the tarps got shredded by the wind/weather we've just battened another on top and with four layers in places it was time to take everything off and start again.

I missed the removal of all the old tarps whilst taking M's Mum to the railway station, but came back to find that LP had "had an idea".  He and Management built a 'ridge' and the plan is that this time round the tarpaulins won't be able to sag and we won't have dips & hollows fill up with water.

Monday was one of those lovely days when everything went right and the laughter never stopped.  We couldn't resist the opportunity to try to recreate the famous New York 1932 lunch on a girder photo.  I think the view is better in our version.


The next phase was to consolidate the additional timber we were given so that we have just one huge log pile rather than four or five.  The small miracle is that these piles have only been in place for four months, instead of the usual four years that things tend to hang around at Bag End :-)

I wasn't entirely idle and consolidated all the small rubbishy wood in one place where it can be cut up and added to this winter's log store.  (I'll add a photo if I remember to take one at the weekend!)

Management had to intervene when LP got completely carried away with the height of the pile he was creating but as always, everything settled down nicely in the end.

I kept out of the way whilst Management supervised an unusual use of steel mesh.  It's subsequently been covered by a new tarp (green side out) and looks much tidier than before.  Although from the ground it seems massive, when viewed from the footpath behind the house it doesn't really look much bigger than the mess than was there before.  How difficult it will be for me to fight my way inside it in future years and get at the timber remains to be seen . . .

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