Your Ideal Trailer

Trailers? Not any subject I'd have been that interested in the 'old' working life, but regular readers will know that we brought one over with us, towed behind the 2CV. This was a generous offer from my Kentish 2CV-Fixer, 2CV-Llew whose real job before he semi-retired was building boat trailers, yacht-club slip-ways, school fire escapes and so on. He reckoned that we could use one around the farm and the 2CV always had a tow bar, it just needed the electrics wiring up. He charged only £250 - I now know how generous this was as this post will explain.

The 'Lottery Winner' ideal trailer from Nugent.

The trailer was brilliant and proved extremely useful for moving wood, scaffold boards, hay and straw, feed sacks as well as being used as a super-size wheel barrow on hedge trimming jobs. However, it is no good for moving livestock, so every time we needed to collect lambs or pigs or to deliver them on their final journey, we'd quickly be beholden to, and reliant upon someone else with a stock trailer. A stock trailer became one of the top items on our shopping list. We also lost the use of the 2CV and had to have a tow bar fitted to the Fiat.

Trailer converted by K-Dub. Grey primer here.

Stupidly, spoiled by Llew's price, I dreamed I might find a good second hand one for €4-500 or so and we started looking locally and on the internet, and even called by hopefully to a couple of nearby farm equipment dealers. Here, my illusions were firmly shattered - we picked up a glossy Nugent brochure and found the perfect trailer - small enough at 6' by 4' to tow behind the (small) Fiat, single axle, tall enough for sheep and pigs but no need for it to be tall enough for cattle and horses, a loading ramp at the rear rather than the slot-in guillotine back-board I had on the first trailer. Such trailers from Nugent START at €1100 as just the flat bed, headboard, draw bar and axle - useful items like sides, a ramp, a roof, spare wheel and so on are 'Optional extras' which rocket the cost up to €1600. We put the Nugent brochure back down - that trailer is now consigned to the 'when we win the lotto' list. Unfortunately the local farmers and trailer owners are well aware of these prices and know the value of their second hand trailers, so that 2nd hand ones we were finding were all up in the €500 to €1100 price range.

Very smart in a coat of 'Killila Bay' Blue gloss

Then we got lucky. I had volunteered to help our friends Charlotte and Carolyn down the road to move a big heap of horse muck and, it turns out, man-of-the-house K-Dub is not only a carpenter but also a dab hand with the welder. He also hates doing garden jobs and horse muck-moving, so volunteered that if I would do the muck, he'd adapt my existing trailer into a stock trailer. Done! He has built a removable top which telescopes into slots added to the trailer walls. He has replaced my dodgy floor with decking planks and has given me a loading ramp. That is removable too. The new 'top' is the same 6 by 4 size as the original trailer, so for a roof, I can use my original 'tilt' made for the trailer by a sail-maker friend of Llew's. I have the trailer back and very smart it looks. I have given the new bare metal a coat of primer and a coat of 'Killila Bay' blue gloss. I just need to find the two reflective triangles we are sure we have somewhere, and we are done.

Sitting in the sun podding broad beans. 

I have no idea how blue Killila Bay really is - it is only a an hour away on the North Mayo coast but we've never been. I was amused by the fact that the trailer also includes some design features from Carolyn of the 'Jelly Bean Designs', maker of Em-J's funky handbag. She suggested that the grooves on the decking boards run longways for ease of sweeping out the trailer floor, but cross-wise on the ramp for extra grip on little piggy feet. I wonder if she'd give me a 'Jelly Bean Designs' logo sticker for my trailer and start a whole new range outside of bags and Christmas decs?

Some cheap old dwarf lily bulbs doing brilliantly.

Meanwhile, back at base we are well into Summer and salad production. I have finally, after several abortive years where I failed to sow or had rows of crop wiped out by the wet or the chickens, got the measure of 'successional planting' for my radishes and lettuces, so Liz has great bowlfuls to go at when she needs them, be they mixed-leaf or an old 'Brown Envelope' variety "Little Leprechaun". I have had a good year on the autumn-planted broad beans and a couple of globe artichoke plants have now come through winter as HUGE fat plants which are starting to push out the chokes we love. We have pak-choi to use in salad or stir fry. The redcurrants are almost 'there'.

Phacelia tanecetifolia planted for the honey bees; so far
we've only seen the bumbles on it.

We've been busy too in the 'pretty' bits. We have finally weeded all across the big raised bed (by the car port) and have found loads of space to put in new stuff. All the roses are going like a storm, especially the pink 'The Lover' and the Red 'Dublin Bay' in the Kitchen Garden. The pigs are thriving - they grow so fast!. The 2 youngest goslings thrive too, starting to go all long-necked and goose shaped, while their big brother 'George Junior' is quickly turning into a half-scale grown-up goose as he starts to feather up. Not a sign of wry-tail, so that was presumably a gander- or in-breeding problem.

Redcurrants nearly ready.

The bees are very active, we see a lot of coming and going but we are steeling ourselves to NOT FUSS THEM. Apparently some keen new bee keepers can't keep away and break open their hive every other day 'just to check' and the bees spend all day 'repairing the damage', re-sealing the cracks with propolis, which is to no-one's benefit. The Two Marys were very firm telling us to leave them be and restrict ourselves to weekly inspections. We have decided to do ours on Monday evenings.

Ready when you are, bees. A 'super' (Honey store) box
full of new frames.

This weeks should be a fairly quick and non-disruptive one, anyway. We just need to crack the crown board off, see if the colony is running out of space, and (if so) add the new 'super' (Honey store box) and then re-assemble and retreat. Although we are through May/June and the main swarming season, a colony can still swarm if it runs out of space, so you are advised to keep an eye and generate the extra space if they look like they are bursting at the seams. You do this by adding 'supers' (normally 3-4 but can be as silly as 10!). It is the top supers you 'steal' later in the year when you want to harvest your honey. The bee colony will need 'only' 15-30 kg of honey to get through the winter - about 2 full 'supers'. Anything else you can theoretically take without having to provide supplementary food (sugar syrup or icing 'fondant') to help them through. I have started to see 'our bees' out in the lane, a km from here, when I am walking the dogs and surveying bumble bees. There is a box on the survey form for 'Apis mellifera' - the honey bee. Tick!

Guinea fowl egg

Finally, Min the widowed Guinea fowl has come back into lay running with the hens and occasionally surprises us with an egg in one of the hen nest boxes. Her keets are also thriving in their rabbit run on the front lawn and look very much the young Guinea Fowl now rather than fluffy chicks.

Not with a Bang but a Whimper

Mademoiselle (left) and Clara Bow (right).

As I write this, the minute hand on my watch is chugging gently through 15:35 pm when I should have been anxiously handing my 2CV in to the NCT testing station in Carrick on Shannon for its 4th run up the testing lane 'sausage machine', its carburettor serviced and pouring a perfect mixture of petrol and air onto the spark plugs, its exhaust emissions compliant and the tester man fanning himself on my signed and stamped police form allowing my car to carry the registration it carries.

A 2CV camp at Preston, near Canterbury in 2010

Instead I am sitting typing this. The car languishes in the garage in Balla D, the carburettor sent off to a specialist despite my request that the garage do nothing if they could not guarantee to get my car back to me for today and the 2 guys at the garage (Father and Son) who are the only ones who seem to know anything about "these old cars" are in America playing at Kart Racing, mechanicking for the Ireland team in some international Karting race meeting.

J-M (left) and Em-J in Mademoiselle

This point, 2 tests and 2 re-tests down, plus a goodly amount of money spent on fixes I had already set in my mind as the end of the road for my 2CV-ownership hobby. It's been a great ride and an enjoyable period, over ten years as 'officially mine' and three years before that when it was registered to Liz (long story involving £2 sterling and 5 David Austin roses!). We have some great fun with the car as well as some misadventures, been to 2CV club camps all over the place including Kelso Castle and we've taken her to France a couple of times too. As I said though, always a hobby vehicle rather than a day to day 'proper' car and funded as such. It was always a cheap sustainable hobby when I was in Kent because I could call on my ace fixer, 2CV Llew who, for a small fee could always get it through MOTs, gearbox changes, body-part swaps and so on.

Ireland though, is a different kettle of fish. Nobody owns 2CVs here so there are no Llews to call upon. My local garage have done very well but the NCT is a much stricter test than the MOT and all parts have to be sourced from the UK. So we brought the car over with us intending to keep it running as long as we realistically could but now its time is up. When the carb comes back from the specialist, the garage will refit it to the car and I will drive it back here, park it up and officially take it off the road on a SORN notice. I am sad but resigned. A bit relieved too, if I'm honest and pleased that the stress of all this battling with garages and anxiously taking it for NCTs is over. A weight lifted.

So, as of about now, when the test would have finished, I am the owner of an NCT failure 2CV which may soon be perfectly repaired and able to sweep through an NCT (No! Don't go there! That way madness lies!) and, as it happens, half a 1961, 425 cc, 6 volt electrics 2CV known as Mademoiselle d'Armentieres which lives in Kent, so I can't get at that one either. I am not sure what the future holds. The rules around cars being 'vintage' or old enough to be exempt from NCT have currently frozen on "cars registered on or before 1980" (they are not rolling annually). I can drive it within the 'farm', of course and could even teach the nieces to drive on it, or I could put it up on good old 'Donedeal' and try to sell it. We'll see. Currently I am contemplating cracking open the Prosecco I bought on a "Win or Lose, have a Booze" basis and getting used to being someone who used to have a 2CV. I apologise for borrowing TS Eliot's much over-used final line for my header - his was a serious poem about the post 2nd WW world, not some classic car owning hobby. Look on the bright side. I nearly went down Auden's "Stop all the clocks... prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone" road.

Rest in Peace, 'Clara' for the moment. You were an excellent and respected friend. I will miss being able to drive you about.

Thorn in my Side

Regular readers will know that this adventure has been great fun and, almost entirely a great success from sell-up, through house hunting, our move in convoy, then gutting and rebuilding the house and now getting established in the garden and setting up the small-holding with the animals. I've written good, positive reports and almost entirely these have been written from a happy place. There is, though, one remaining area where we have had no such success and which is still a constant source of irritation, stress and hassle, a real thorn in my side. That is the 2CV.

A hobby car, and (in UK) great fun to own, I decided to bring it with us and keep it as a second car mainly for fun and emergencies. Prior to leaving UK, I had my 2CV fixer bloke, 2CV Llew, do a good thorough job on preparing it for the journey and generally making it as good as you could, to give it a hopeful start when I was out of his range - lots of metal got replaced and new panels welded in from floors, sills through the firewall / bulkhead, it got a full service and even all the wheels were taken off, cleaned and rust treated. Llew also created a trailer for it with the same wheel-hubs and wheels and tyres so that I traveled with, effectively, 4 spare tyres. You'll know that the convoy succeeded, and both the Fiat Panda and the 2CV and trailer made the 500 mile run without missing a beat.

It was when we hit our destination in Ireland that things started to go wrong. We tried to register it in Ireland as an Irish car on the same day as we did the Fiat - the Fiat 'flew' through but the 2CV got held up for 3 months or so because the Registrations computer could not cope with a 1986 2CV. We chased and harried but to no avail. Luckily, when we were in the office in Sligo waiting for the Fiat to process, we had got talking to a lady from a local garage who had volunteered 2 bits of useful information, first that her business was mainly importing cars, so she was well versed in the office side and well know at the Sligo NCT ( registrations and 'MOT' tests) office as a regular 'customer'. Second that the garage, which is in our local town of Ballaghaderreen was formerly a Citroen main dealer and that a number of her mechanics (including her husband) were experienced in Citroens and 'loved' 2CVs. We adopted the 'lady' (Helene) and her garage as A GOOD THING and started to use them for all our garage needs. Short-term, this was mainly prep'ing the Fiat for its NCT test.

Eventually we got fed up with waiting for Sligo NCT and Helene offered to chase our case in person, a move which resulted in us finally getting released from the log jam. Now registered, we could finally get the 2CV insured and taxed and could think about the test. Unfortunately, just at this stage  a frost cracked the windscreen right across, starting at an old stone-chip hole which had been there for all the 10 years+ I had owned the car. We now hit the issue of getting hold of spares for repairs, most of which have to come from specialist suppliers the UK. 2CV Llew is also a good source of bits, but those who know him will agree that although we all love him he is NOT one for the deadlines or doing anything urgently.

We were more months after he promised to send a windscreen waiting for him to get it to us and then eventually, just as we'd given up, 2 things happened (again). First a chance conversation with Helene and an internet search revealed that Sligo Windscreens, in the next county actually had one in stock and would supply and fit it for £190. We agreed and then the second thing, Llew finally got it together but could only find couriers for £80 or so. Eventually I was coming to UK for my barge week, and I decided to  bring it back with me - check-in luggage at £24! I suddenly had 2 windscreens. The car chose this week to stop idling. It would run OK at high revs and was perfectly drive-able but if you pulled up at a junction you had to sit with your foot on the throttle or it would die. The NCT test involves a fair few stages where the engine is left running, so this was no good for the test.

So, in went the car a month or so back for its NCT pre-test, to get the windscreen changed, the idle fixed and any other niggles sorted prior to the test. We were now the €190 plus another €200 poorer. The approach the garage use on such old cars is to fix all the obvious stuff, then submit it for test. Then you only have to fix the fails, you don't spend an arm and a leg fixing stuff which you might have got away with. The test is €55. In the event, we failed but not too badly - we had bad play in a front near side wheel bearing, a worn "rubber bush" in the steering, and 2 tyres which did not have the required "type approval" E numbers embossed on them (they were too old).

We were right back into sourcing bits from the UK and the car was back in the garage. You have 30 days from an NCT fail, to get the (€28) re-test. We booked it for today (20th) giving us, we thought, plenty of time. The wheel bearing came and (a horrible job NOBODY likes) got fixed. The garage then told me that they were not sure what the testers had meant by 'rubber bush' but they now had play in the kingpins, so we went through it all again sourcing the pins. Finally with that fixed, and us running very close to the 30 day limit, the garage found that there was indeed a rubber 'bush' in the steering (actually called an 'anti-rattle plate'; part 46 in our middle diagram if you are interested) with play, so last Thursday 'we' ordered that bit.

The retest was due Tuesday and the part had not arrived Monday, nor today, the day of the test. When it failed to arrive on the Monday I decided to re-book (postpone) the test, which you can do for €11, but nearly came a cropper. I saw two slots available on this Saturday but opted to take, instead, a slot next Tuesday (27th) but the website bounced this request telling me my 30 days were up on Saturday 24th, so I had no choice but to book for Saturday at 5 to 5, one of the two remaining slots on line.

So here, we stand, haggard and worn out from all this emotional roller coaster ride. It's only a hobby car but I love it so all these set backs upset me and drive me close to despair. I am now numb to the point of considering giving up if there are any more setbacks and I will be so so unbelievably happy if it all ends happily on Saturday night. We are now waiting for the part to arrive this week and be fitted (a fairly straight forward, 'easy' task, say the garage). I am like a kid waiting for Christmas or his Birthday, hardly able to contain himself waiting but helpless to do anything to help the situation. Fingers are crossed. Fervent prayers are offered. I appreciate that many of you will have far more important things to worry about and are wondering why all the fuss. It's probably a 2CV driver thing.....

I'll let you know.

Irish Reg' for the 2CV

A landmark moment arrives as Dad finally gets hold of his Irish registration plates for the 2CV. Known as "Clara Bow" because of her C692BOW UK reg, we are not quite sure what to call her now! Dad picks up the plates as he is at our very helpful local garage in Ballaghaderreen and our friendly lady there, Helene enquires how it's all going. Dad tells her he is having the divvil and all job getting hold of a replacement windscreen from the UK due to our good friend 2CV Llew's fairly relaxed approach to getting the one he has onto a courier. Helene suggests she look locally on websites and through suppliers she knows, and (ta daaaa!) finds one (allegedly) available at a place called Sligo Windscreens. The garage will let Dad know the price, get hold of it, fit it, sort the ignition (Clara does not idle very well at present) and an indicator-repeater bulb and pre-NCT it for us. We might actually get her on the road! Dad celebrates by firing her up and taking her for a spin around the west field!

Meanwhile here is a nice picture of the Kindergarten, just because we have taken one. Left to right at nearly 3 months, are Poppy, Towser, Blue and Rolo.

E minus 6 days

E-Day minus 6 and the big adventure is coming at us like a parachutist's ground-rush. We dogs have already moved, of course and can only see Mum and Dad left behind via the frequent video-Skype / Facebook chats which flow between Diamond's place and the Silverwoods here. Dad is working his way through the final scenes of the play tying up loose ends. He has to pay the Big Green Lorry guys and give them the "any time after" date. It looks like for that we have now run so close to Christmas that BGL is now likely to be after the Season but that suits us as it gives us more time to prepare a landing site for all the stuff.

Dad has been to see the house in Faversham which Diamond's John is renovating in a similar way to what we'll be doing in Roscommon. John is a very particular and painstaking kind of bloke, so his stripping back of brickwork for re-plastering nibbles away every last shard of old plaster leaving a very clean brick face to screed. He winkles out every last bit of old lead gas-pipe and redundant water pipe or electricity cable, pulling up floor boards to gain access and re-laying them properly.

He does all this little by little, clearing away the debris each day, never letting an awesome pile of rubble or old broken wood build up. Radiators are stacked neatly in the cellar and all open pipe ends are sealed off with cloth and tape. It is stripped back so clean, tidy and safe that you could almost lay out a sleeping bag and sleep there. He also takes plenty of photo's so that should his spirits ever flag he can look back at the old shots and buoy himself up by how much he has achieved. John also talks a lot of common sense about what he does himself and when he calls in the trades, and how the budget works as a result.

Dad is inspired by all this and can see his way through how it's going to work at Roscommon. He was going a little wobbly about the destruction phase, worried that we'd end up with one of the houses on D.I.Y. S.O.S. but with no TV crew and purple polo-shirted builders to rescue us. He feels a little bit more confident now, but it's still a mammoth beast. Bizarrely, he is also mildly concerned about what happens after, say 18 months down the line. We will hopefully have a lovely renovated farmhouse in the back of beyond to retreat to and hang out in after..... after what? Allotmenting? Work? A full and exhausting day involved in local projects and society? Volunteering?

Meanwhile, 2CV Llew is cutting it a bit fine (no surprise there!) building the promised 2CV trailer. Dad was down there yesterday to get the car wired for trailer-pulling and has seen the trailer such as it is so far - a wheel-less steel frame of angle iron and box-section about 6 feet long, 4 feet wide and 2 feet tall. No wooden panels, wheels, paint, light-bar, tow-hitch, cover or any other finishing touches. Llew is confident that it will be ready for Sunday morning. Mum is shaking her head and the look on her face says "why does this not surprise me. It's Llew after all!" We all love Llew to bits but he is a bit of a one for flexing deadlines.

His standard MO is to take a car off you to work on it while you go for a fortnight's holiday and then, when you get back indoors and phone him to see how it's all gone, he'll say "Ah yes, I must get started on that, mustn't I?" So he had the 2CV for all the three and a half weeks Dad was in Ireland, and did the wiring yesterday, almost a week after he got back. Still, the trailer, although it would be very useful in Ireland and has been paid for, does only contain the most non-vital stuff for our move (deliberately - we knew it was the least likely bit to get there!) so if it all goes Pete Tong and we have to leave it behind for another day, it's no great disaster. One thing it might prove to be useful for is if the famous BGL cannot be threaded out of the lane and up the drive of the Roscommon house, it can be parked a few yards down the lane in a lay-by and the 2CV and trailer used to shuttle stuff up to the house.

Exciting times

Deefs

E-day minus 9 and counting

As the date for the full and final emigration gets closer life is all about closing out loose ends and getting ready. Mum still has to work, of course, till the 9th, next Friday, so that's just 5 more working days as I write this. Dad rescues the 2CV from 3 and a half weeks of neglect down at the boatyard, by the caravan. The old girl does not like to be left un-started for more than about a week as the fuel drains back down from the carb, past the fuel pump and the pump will not drag it back up again and self-prime. You have to pull the fuel line off the carb and suck on it to draw the fuel up past the pump. Dad has a length of transparent pipe to help with this, so that not too many mouthfuls of petrol are quaffed (!). This is not a problem as long as the car is started every couple of days, so should be OK in Ireland where the 2CV will get plenty of use for as long as we can keep it on the road.

There is also post to be collected from the old address including Mum's tax disc, all of which has to be sorted and change of address letter(s) sent off if need be. Mid afternoon there's a phone call from 2CV Llew who has a problem with a lap top. He's not the world's most computer-literate person and is struggling to install anti virus. Dad to the rescue, driving the 2CV through the lashing rain thinking "Better get used to this!"

Dad heads for the barge and lets himself on board for a look round and a re-acquaint. There is no working heating on board yet so it's cold and damp. Still running a bit of a cold, Dad has opted to stay in Diamond's house where a warm, comfy, dry bed, Rags, good food and Mum, in no particular order out-weigh the attractions of living on Cambria.

60's Hippy Chic

As our time living with the Silverwoods draws to a close, the word has gone out "Be Very Afraid". Mrs S has taken to smiling over-sweetly as she says how well she is going look after us when Daddy is gone back to UK and not around to 'protect' us. Haggis seems to be the safest in this respect due to Mrs S not wanting to worry Mum, but there is talk of me being food-dyed pink or lemon-yellow. Even for the H there is rumour of over-tight leather trousers, pierced ear and hooped black ear-ring, black neckerchief and a gold bling chain. Possibly even a black leather hat. For now, as practice, I am resplendent in a cerise cloth flower on a similarly coloured necklace of elastic borrowed from Toddler R, so I am in 60's hippy chic mode at present.

For now the plan is that Dad flies 'home' on Wednesday, with a lift from Mr S to the airport and links up with Mum for the last 12 or so UK days of Mum finishing work, Dad's final AGM as Hort Soc Treasurer, loads of farewell do's and final preparations including the completion by 2CV Llew of the small trailer for the 2CV. Then on the Sunday afternoon and evening (12th?) the big adventure of driving the Fiat, 2CV and trailer back across UK and onto the ferry, followed by the run across Ireland to the Roscommon house begins.

The plan is to park the 2CV at the house and then go racing about in the Fiat signing docs at the solicitors, picking up the keys and then playing house for a couple of hours before heading back down to here and the Silverwoods to re-unite with the other car and spend an evening back here. We get taken to the new house on the next morning for our first explore but we all may end up back at the Silverwoods for the first couple of nights till the caravan gets delivered to the site.

It's all exciting stuff and seems very close now.

Deefs

Brave Soldier

Thursday sees us coming to the end of our penultimate week in Hastings and still doing the rounds of Dad's old haunts, like a stroll down memory lane (to him; obviously we've never been to these places so it's just nice new, unfamiliar places to chase about and sniff). This time Hastings's Alexandra Park is the target, the top end by 'the reservoir' (Buckshole) where Dad and the brothers, as kids, used to catch gudgeon and sticklebacks by dipping empty milk bottles on strings with a tempting piece of bread inside. That was as far as 'angling' got with any of them.

On Friday we were off straight after breakfast, headed towards Faversham and the caravan but this time via helping 2CV Llew to rebuild the steel fire escape on the end of a Steiner School out by Petham (near Canterbury). We drove first to Herne Bay to transfer to Llew's big Volvo estate, well down on its springs as the back was loaded with the chequer-plate treads for the escape steps, with the mud flaps groaning on the ground at every bump. The school is currently on half term, so there were no kids about and it is in a lovely countrified spot - all grass fields and places for dogs to chase about and find interesting smells. That said, we actually spent most of the 4 hours of the job sleeping in the cavernous rear of the Volvo on a big blanket.

There was a brief drama when Dad, silly old fool, wrangling a nut and bolt on one of the treads had a spanner slip off a nut, jerking his right hand too fast at the sharp endge of one of the treads, giving him a nasty gash, an impressive amount of blood and a bit of a wobbly moment. Llew guided him to First Aid where he got bandaged up but the lady advised seeking proper medical aid. They completed the job with Dad helping out one handed where they could and then headed back to the car in Herne Bay, and from there straight to Faversham's minor injury unit where a nice nurse named Sandra gave Dad three stitches and some co-amoxiclav "sweeties". By now Mum was out of work and came round to meet us to head for the caravan; checked with the nurses whether Dad had been a "brave soldier" and presented him with a lollipop much to the amusement of the staff.

Once through that drama, they could begin the weekend proper, but more of that in the next post.

Deefs

Moving the boat

It's been a busy weekend, which I'll tell you about over a couple of posts rather than try to squish it all on this one. Friday saw us all headed once more for Hollow Shore boatyard and another weekend of caravanning but first up we had work to do on Friday. We had to swap cars and take the 2CV down to Llew's workshop. The main mission was to be to shuffle all the cars in the place about to make space at the 'bottom end' for a rather tall boat and trailer combo which wouldn't quite fit through the door at the top end where there is a concrete ramp. This meant for we dogs, plenty of chance to chase about the outbuildings and rabbit-rich territory, and to play with Boris-the-barking-bastard (as he is now known by 2CV Llew).

Boris, pictured here was already filthy when we first arrived and is here wrangled to a length of rope to restrict his access to further dirt and oily sumps of cars but unfortunately when he runs out of string he gets frustrated at not being able to get at whatever is going on and sets up barking. We know from his nights here that this is persistent and loud; Llew is a bit ineffective at stopping him, so he just gets shouted at repeatedly to 'shut up' which has no effect whatso ever, hence the new name Boris-t-b-b.

The shot down the length of the green house gives you some idea of the layout - the cars are all down the far end in this shot. We had to move them all towards the camera - some of them, including a lovely old 'Hercules Poirot' Citroen Traction-Avant even started and ran under their own power (which surprised Llew more than it did Dad) and then take the big boat shown here all round the back way, Llew skillfully reversing the Volvo estate and this trailer round 4 narrow 90 degree bends in the process to get nearly there. The boys then manhandled the trailer the last few yards in, whereupon one of the trailer wheels collapsed an underground rabbit burrow inside the greenhouse, the cave-in stopping the trailer and canting it over alarmingly. They had to jack it back upright and slide a bit of ply under the wheel to continue.

With all that fun and games complete they savaged the leylandii hedge you can see in the boat picture and had a mahousive bonfire of the bits, they helped landowner Mike to move a big diesel tank with a mini-digger (Health and Safety?), and they whipped the last two remaining wheels off the 2CV for their anti-rust paint treatment.

After all that interesting day we were all rounded up and piled back into the 2CV and headed off to meet Mum at the caravan.

Deefs

A Good Blaze

A couple more pics from the last weekend, one of a good loggy blaze going in the recycled LPG tank burner cum brazier we use as a patio heater at the caravan and the 2nd of Haggis doing artistic at the Firehills. By the way we now think we've changed the email address within this blog, so all you commenters who used to send me replies, may be able to re-start that and they should arrive here instead of hitting the ends of the cable running to the old address and fizzling out.

So we are temporarity back in Hastings, at Pud Lady's establishment and back in the now familiar routine of only being allowed out in the garden on a lead in case i take off through one of the many badger holes, walks in the Archery Fields nor farther afield and of Dad playing Scrabble with Pud Lady. Honours are still even in that, even after 26 games - 13 and a half to Dad, 12 and a half to Pud Lady but almost certain to catch up at the next game.

In house-move land we are now through all our legal mallarky and we have got to the stage of having to transfer money across to the Irish solicitors, which Dad accomplished yesterday, and we await something called a "Contract of Sale" through the post, probably today.

It's all go.

Deefs

Three Wheels on my Wagon

We spend much of Tuesday back up the old haunts of Faversham and about. We drive up after breakfast in Hastings to the boat yard to collect the 2CV and then to drive that across to Llew's workshop just east of Canterbury. Dad's mission is to do the rust-proof thang on the remaining three wheels (2 rears and the 2nd spare) - that is to scrape, chisel, wire-brush and hammer-peen the inner face of the rims (normally out of sight) clear of rust, then coat them with a quick drying gloopy layer of zinc chromate primer, and finally a hard glossy layer of "axle-black". The theory is that they will then last a good few more years and this is the final bit of titivating the car into its best possible state for the Irish adventure and its Irish life. Touch lots of wood and not wishing to, in any way, tempt fate, but it is sounding quite sweet at present in our humble opinion.

We dogs love it at Llew's. His 'workshop' is actually some huge abandoned greenhouses once used for commercial horticulture and now cleared and full of cars and car bits. Earth-floored under the glass, they are as dry as dust and the dust has long since started to pick up car-based grot such as he rust and dust from power tools, dripped oil and solvents as well as the leavings of passing chickens, rabbits and other beasties. the stacks of car bits and well-loaded shelving and racks make superb nooks and crannies for a dog to explore looking for interesting smells, and there are acres of this stuff.

So, while Haggis might mooch about and mainly sleep, I am everywhere, in, under, between, through, over, behind and beside. Llew's own dogs, the tea-drinking Rosie and the mad Westie pup (almost a year old now) who has become know as Boris the B*****d by Llew, who cannot stop him from barking and taking on bigger dogs, tend to be kept tied up on looooong strings which is OK till they wrap themselves round the aforementioned junk, trailer wheels, cars etc. So when I'm in range, Boris helps with the searching, but mainly I am way off at the far end of a greenhouse or under the hedge where his rope won't reach. Rosie, like Haggis, sleeps through most of this.

Unfortunately, I tend to emerge covered in the dark dust and in need of a shower so, wouldn't you know it, I am pristine, white and fluffy today having been shampooed again. Mum will be impressed when we next meet (unless I can think of another way of getting back to filthy). The wheels done, we return the car to it's parking and hop in the 'modern car' to head back to Pud Lady's place.

Today was mainly about Dad doing the Hort Soc accounts. He is Treasurer just till the end of this financial year, and can then hand the baton on to 'Alf' the new guy. So he must crunch the numbers for 2010/11 and pass these in to the auditor for checking, before presenting them at the AGM in December, his parting visit to the Society and swan-song. He's been doing it for 11 years now, so has probably done his share. He will be pleased to hand it over at last.

In between that, when the figures were starting to fry Dad's brain, we went for a walk across Hastings's West Hill hoping for a look in the Castle. The Castle though, is now pay-to-get-in and also No Dogs Allowed, so we satisfied ourselves with a gawp from outside and took these couple of pictures, one of the Old Town with its net huts, beached fishing fleet and touristy bits from above and the other a chunk of castle entrance.

Supper time now.

Deefs

Lucky Heather!

We spend the night in 2CV Llew's caravan in the Hollow Shore boatyard close to Faversham. If the truth were known, Dad is going a leeeetle bit stir-crazy in Hastings. He doesn't want to appear ungracious or ungrateful but realistically he now knows no-one in Hastings and is not in any clubs or organisations to distract him, so short of dog walks and playing Scrabble with Pud Lady, there's not a lot to do and he was looking forward to the prospect of escaping for a while. Sorry, Pud Lady!

It was a lovely warm afternoon and evening as we drove up there after a roast lamb lunch (the lamb bones in our doggie bag for when we got there), and Dad texted Mum to say we were on the way. We all met up at the caravan and sat around on the 'patio' Llew has rigged up outside the door. We walked along to the Shipwright's Arms for Dad to have a couple of pints of Goacher's "Shipwreck", and then back to the caravan. Mum disappeared briefly in search of food, returning with pizzas and coleslaw and milk while Dad sussed out the electrics and the gas for the caravan. We are looking at buying a small, 2nd hand caravan to live in while we're making the Erroll house habitable, so Mum and Dad were kind of enjoying 'pretending' to be caravan dwellers.

The pizzas and salad, with coffee were eaten out on the patio as dusk fell, a candle doing the honours for relaxing lighting. Although there was a warm breeze this was mainly passing through at tree top height and did little to upset the candle flame. The Mum was gone, leaving we dogs and Dad to retreat into the caravan and sort out sleeping arrangements, basically Dad on one side bed, we two dogs on the other. We opened a window to keep airing the van through the night.

Dad woke early on the alarm, needing to link up with Mum again to take the 'big Citroen' into the main dealer's in Rainham for a service - Mum drove Dad back from the garage, dropping him at Oare Creek before heading for work. We mooched around for the morning waiting for 2CV Llew to arrive; he and friend Derek were hoping to lift Derek's sailing boat out of the water, but the tide never came in high enough to the crane-out slipway, so they'd have to put it off to Thursday. Anyway, the wind, in the opinion of the crane driver, was a bit borderline safe for hefting yacht hulls about.

So now we're back here in Hastings, Dad catching up on emails, facebook and barge-blogging, plus playing a couple games of Scrabble with Pud Lady, and I'm on here!

Deefs

The aul' Boiler

All timings now are measured back from the arrival of the almost mythical "Big Green Lorry" at 09:00 on Friday, by which time we have to have all the stuff which needs moving to Ireland and which won't go in the three cars, ready for loading. Dad currently has 3 lists running on the wall labelled with each car name. Stuff which needs to arrive at Co. Roscommon on Day 1 and will need to be used on that day (like chimney sweeping brushes and the billhooks and secateurs which will clear the way to seeing the airbricks on the houses SW corner (if they exist) and the cover for the septic tank manhole (I know - the things these humans worry about when they should be cracking open the fizz and celebrating moving in!), are destined to travel in Dad's modern car. So are this PC and the (soon) dongle which will allow me to do this blog and Dad to see Facebook once we are 'homeless' and no longer have access to these @btinternet.com domains. Us, too, of course and all our paraphernalia of feed bowls, food, grooming stuff, leads, dog beds and the like.

The stuff Mum will need to carry on working and dressing in a reasonably professional manner while she carries on working will need to be stashed in her wee Fiat. Anything else which is less time-critical and, in fact, less critical over all, can get stashed in the 2CV which will be coming along later. That will be an adventure in itself. 2CV Llew is building Dad a wee trailer to tow behind Clara, based on the same axles and suspension and 2CV wheels.

So, today, more packing and fun and games. Dad packs all the contents of the dining room dresser; lots of newspaper and bubble wrap, and the word "Fragile" in big letters on the outside of each box. Of course we would like to think that the BGL crew treat everything as 'fragile' so this is just to be on the safe side. Two blokes from British Gas also turn up today to service the old central heating boiler. They pile in and look quite professional but soon they start to scare Dad who can hear their increasingly stressed out comments; they seem to have discovered a minor leak round a rubber 'O' ring seal but having replaced the seal are then struggling to tighten up the gland as there is no space for their spanner. Dad briefly has visions of being asked to fund a boiler replacement at this late hour, but after much subdued whispered discussion the gas men are suddenly all perky again, close the boiler up and sign the paperwork and depart. Dad hopes it will all hold together till at least BGL day (Monday).

I cause concern myself by being all itchy around the right ear and my ear is full of brown grot. Dad whizzes me off to the vet where I get some white gloop put in my ears and a pain-killer injection (this caused by me squealing like a drama queen when the vet sticks his auroscope down my left ear, making him think "it's a bit tender"). Did he but know it, I make those noises at the slightest provocation, I don't need pain killers!

Drugs R Us

Deefs

My 5th Birthday !!

Dad and 2CV Llew take off for a bit more sailing. It's a lovely day and there's a nice warm breeze which is in a reasonably firmly fixed direction so perfect for Dad to get some more practice in at being 'skipper'. Watch that foresail 'luff' (leading edge) in case it starts to shiver - then bear away, keep and eye on the wind indicator vane on the mast head, heeling is good, keep red buoys to your left and green to your right when heading 'upstream' into the Creek, keep and eye on the depth sounder, stay focused when going about or you'll end up doing a 180 (or more!). There's a lot to remember, most of which is coming back to Dad from his student Lark-dinghy gravel-pit sailing days. One last lesson which neither of these would be salty sea dogs remembered was that if you buy shiny new life jackets, meaning to look a bit more professional and be a bit safer, they don't do a lot of good still left in their pristine packets down on the ship's bunk. Whoops.

I am 5 today. Hasn't the time flown by? Happy Birthday to me. I dare say there will be raw pork rib 'Birthday Cake' in the picture somewhere today although Mum is deserting us, off for a wee holiday with Diamond (Yeah, I know, I'm phoning the RSPCA right now).

Project Erroll is now in a rather bizarre state. Mum and Dad have signed all the legal docs for the UK end of the thing and handed them in to the Solicitor in Ashford but have not heard anything definite about having "exchanged" per se. They are assuming they will get a 'congratulations' email or phone call from said legal beagle to say "You have now exchanged with a completion date of xxx". Either way, they have now felt safe enough to risk the booking deposit on the purchase in Ireland and to have selected and engaged a solicitor over there, so that the ball has started rolling with a possible completion date over there of early December. The 2nd is being talked about. They just wish the English side would set a bit more firmly to take away the nagging fear that it might still all go Pete Tong.

Happy but Trepidatious Birthday to me?

Deefer (5)

Post 999 - one more to go!

Another day of Garden assessing for Dad, one of which is Whitstable Castle, no less. On our dog walk we call by Cambria and go aboard so that Dad can have a cup of coffee. The barge is all open and the kitchen is now all set up for making coffees and teas. You could actually nip aboard and knock up a full roast dinner if you had the ingredients with you handy.

Later Dad goes off sailing on the Swale with 2CV Llew, on his 20 foot motor-sailer (mini-yacht) "Kestrel". They motor down Oare Creek and out through Faversham Creek into the Swale in a decent breeze but as soon as they kill the engine and haul up a few sails it goes dead calm. They sit around for a while and then breeze starts to come in fits and spurts from random directions (a "flukey" wind, as we salty sailor-dogs call it).

Eventually it decides to blow from one direction for more than a few minutes and they can get a bit of sailing in, Llew helming and handling the mainsail, Dad nipping about the cockpit winching in the 'Genoa' (big fore-sail) sheets as they tacked a few times. It's not a very big tide today, and Llew's is a mud-berth, so they have to head back home (Dad at the helm now) before the water all drains away, but they are sailing from about 15:30 to 17:00, so Dad is happy. Mum instructs him to come home via the wine shop and the "chicken to spatchcock" shop.

Post 1000 tomorrow!

Have a great weekend

Deefs

Beric and Boris

Dad can't resist another opportunity to go paint Cambria. She's pretty much done and is, and should now be, spending her life earning money, doing charters and educational stuff, which means away from Faversham, generally. So the fun project, which has kept Dad off the streets for the last three years is pretty much coming to an end. Today there were only him and the 'Boss of Volunteers' Basil down there, Basil doing a bit of varnishing, Dad painting pale yellow onto recently fitted wooden cleats and the main 'horse'. Dad also gets involved in the job of hoisting the masts of Sailing Barge Beric back up. The gear was lowered yesterday to allow the sails to be taken off and sent away for repair, and had to be raised again today to get the masts back out of the way of the imminent deck repairs.

Part way through the morning, 2CV Llew turns up at the barge to leave 9-month-old Boris with us. We are babysitting him again while Llew and a chum sail the chum's 40 foot yacht over to Boulougne and back. It might be just one night but, as is the way of these things, it is at mercy of weather and tide and , says Llew, I may or may not be back Monday night.

Although Llew is, in theory, in a hurry to go take the maybe-ex-but-we're-not-sure girlfriend to a charity garden party, Dad tempts him down below decks with the fully equipped galley and offer of a cup of tea.

Dad is then amused by Llew and Basil, who are both fans of keeping boats 'traditional' chuntering about 'yottie' barges with fancy skylights, modern domestic interior lighting, sophisticated electrics and possibly even (soon) radar! (Gasp!) Llew is only teasing and Basil is laughing as he explains patiently that whilst in Denmark and Norway the governments supports old barges kept as museum pieces, here the barge has to pay its way. That means offering the possible paying charter guests a certain level of home comfort, i.e. 'yottie luxury', hot showers, warm dry bunks with duvets and pillows, good cooking facilities and so on.

Ah well, the silver lining on the Boris-shaped-invasion cloud is that Boris doesn't do sleeping alone downstairs and creates such a fuss it's easier to let all the dogs off the sleep-in-the-kitchen rule, so as long as I can resist the temptation to pee on (Mum in the) bed we should be OK tonight.

Deefer

New Improved Clara

2CV Llew shows up at 10 with the Boris, Rosie and the 2CV which he's been re-fettling ready for her 'brand new life' under Project Erroll. He has done loads of repairing around the scuttle vent including a new vent flap and an anti-insect mesh (something she's never had before), 2 new rear doors (the old ones had sagged beyond the point where they'd 'strike' correctly) and a new rear body section below the bootlid. Ex factory they have a multi-layer 'box' section here which rusts badly. Llew chops this out and replaces it with a single angled strip which gets painted in inner and outer side so there's nowhere for the water to get trapped. Clara also gets a re-upholstered driver seat and an MOT. The feeling is she is now fit to go.

Dad then introduces 9 month old pup, Boris to the delicate art of having your hair cut. He's a bit phased by this and wriggles mightily to start with so progress is slow, but eventually he seems to realise no-one os actually trying to harm him (and it's not a game) and he's actually better with the clippers than the scissors. Within the hour he is changed from a scruffy and portly-looking adolescent reminiscent of a white 'Dougal' from Magic Round-about, to a handsome and trim white westie shaped dog similar in size to me, with a felty coat and a nice shaped head.

Mum and Diamond head off to Brighton to visit a mutual friend in hospital, who's had a minor stroke, while Dad, Llew, Boris and Rosie head for Llew's workshop where a) Llew has left his car and b) the guys need to move a boat. Dad then returns in the 2CV and we get our walk round the Cemetery and the Rec. Dad nips off for a bit of shopping and then the rest of the day is spent mooching around here. Dad creates a big chilli-con-carne for the girls when they return which might be quite late from Brighton.

Have a good weekend

Deefs

Bye Bye Boris

After driving 400 miles across France to get home very tired last night, 2CV Llew calls to say he will collect Boris tonight rather than last night. Boris gets another night here and we get another night of being allowed sleep upstairs. Today, though. Llew is back in business and texts Dad to say he'll be here at about 4pm after a visit to our local boating chandlers. He's driving his newly finished 2CV pick-up, which looks like a 2CV front half with a wooden farm-cart bolted on behind.

In an amusing role reversal Dad has to go rescue Llew's 2CV from the chandlers because he has a flat battery. Normally it's Llew rescuing Dad.

We have never seen such an enthusiastic welcome as Boris catching sight of his Dad (Llew) - all that bouncing around on rear feet and tail wagging. Dad was left saying "Ahem... I came home too!". Having left the 2CV running in the street because of the dodgy battery, Llew didn't hang around. He grabbed the dog and dropped off a thank-you bottle of Calva, chatted a short while about how Boris had got on and then headed off, at which point Boris had the good grace to look round and say "Oh... is Deef's Dad not coming too?" as if he might miss his new 'bestest mate after all.

It seems very quiet around here without him nand I expect we'll be confined to Kitchen sleeping once more but it's at least a chance to relax. It's been nice having you to stay, Boris. Look after yourself. We'll miss you.

Deefs

Boris for Ten Days

As this blog cruises in towards its 1000th posting it has recently passed the joint milestones of 10,000 hits and 14,000 views. Go us - we're never going to be a best seller but it's a quietly satifying way to keep you in touch with our comings and goings and I know its enjoyed regularly by family and freinds, so if you keep reading it, I'll keep a-writing it.

We have a house-guest for the next 10 days or so, young Boris, 7 month old westie of 2CV Llew who is off to the foreign. Not a secretive doggie, our Boris - makes his presence felt in no uncertain manner. He may have had 'abandonment issues' in his difficult life pre-Llew, but he's now very clingy and gets very anxious if Llew leaves him.

Llew has been trying to wean him off 100% contact by leaving him behind in the house for short bursts of an hour or two (and anyone who has done this will know the guilty forebodings that come with shutting the door and trying to ignore the crying, whimpering and yipping as it fades out of earshot, plus the strength you need not to just nip back and check on the dog). You may have also done the getting-through-the-first-night thing when you are trying to break the 'must-sleep-together' bond as we did with Deefs not long ago

So we had a bit of yipping as Llew drove away with the other dog, Rosie (she's 'kennelled' at another friend's for the week) but Boris soon settled to the fact that he still had Haggis and I and Mum and Dad. Then we had another quick upset as Dad went to bed before Mum and then it really kicked off with a couple of hours of yipping, crying, weeoing-and-wailing, scratching, restlessness and chewing of bath sponges and tissues. However, Mum and Dad did not flinch, and everyone managed to get at least some sleep through the night. Boris was very very pleased to see Dad at breakfast time, then Dad went off to work for a half day, so he thinks Mum may have had some more boldness, early hours.

Dog walking with Boris is also an interesting experience as he seems to have no idea of direction. Admittedly he does not know the area, but even so, he shows an alarming tendency to suddenly turn 90 degrees off the pavement onto the busy road, or up someone's drive. He is also a good one for coming back by a different route, thus entangling the lead round bits of gate, fence or street-furniture. He is also a one for 'Maypole dancing', attempting to entangle the lead round a) Dad and b) all the other leads.

We'll survive though, Boris - you'll not defeat us!

Deefs

Meeting Boris

Tonight we have come away from all mention of Ladies of Negotiable Affectiuon whether hailing from the west coast of Ireland or not, and we are introducing a nice young man, not yet 6 months old, to whom I was introduced today to make sure we get on.

Step forward Boris, new dog of 2CV Llew, now added to the household along with 19 year old beer-drinking, tea-drinking Jack Russell, Rosie. Dad's been down at the Cambria today but afterwards takes Haggis and I over to Llew's place in Herne Bay and shoves us in the back gate. He then lets us get on with getting to know the pup while he helps Llew build a dexion-framed log-store similar to the elabourate log 'house' Mum and he have seen in La Chapelle d'Armentieres. We get on like a house on fire. I am soon racing around with Boris playing while the H plays it cool. preferring to wander about sniffing stuff and not joining in with the antics of da Yoot.

This is good news, as we are hosting Boris for a week in June while Llew goes abroad, so we will be on our best behaviour and I will have to be the hostess with the mostest. It's a whole week, so the theory is that if I'm gonna kill him, then that's a good chance to do it!

Deefs