Some sensical ramblings...

HELLO BRITAIN ! You don't seem to be making a particularly good fist of things at the moment. My heart felt sympathies go out to you. Some of them anyway. There are a far greater number of folk elsewhere in more desperate circumstance than yours. The root cause of recession in U.K. doesn't appear to have dawned on anyone yet. The country is wasting it's resources on a war. I just read that a newly unemployed builder is in desperate need having spent his savings on an engagement ring. You have to prioritise, the grandiose gesture and the thrill of the moment against practical sustainable long term progress. Cancel the wedding arrangements and be content with being "merely" married and in love. I read that an ambulance service in recession hit London has opened a "booze hospital" early to cope with all the excessive alcoholic celebration. What's to celebrate? Perhaps folk need to take their minds off Christmas. The seasonal massacre of the innocents takes many forms,none too pleasant. Party on... They tax the booze to pay for the bullets. I feel lucky I got out. It is too expensive in Britain to live a sober modest poorman's working life. I read that the average poor mans wage is 15,800 quid (24%° of poor Brits earn that?) too high for the government to help out. A quarter of the monthly income spent on debt? It would be a foolish investment to throw good money at bad practice. There's two of us living on 900 euros
in rural Brittany. We aren't begging and bleating for government help. I am unwaged. better serving my domestic economy at home with sustainable long term projects that will benefit our future lives. We don't drink. We eat well from our home garden. we are frugal and pay our bills on time. Most of our living is done at home, we don't "holiday". Living at home needn't be a fat arsed boring sedentary occupation that drives a person to waste resources on expensive short lived cheap thrills. My partner and I are married after Thirteen years of inadequate housing and homelessness to mark our engagement. We made wooden rings for the exchange at the wedding. they have worn out already from keeping our hands busy with work. Do we really need a ring? We don't feel poorer for the lack of one. We maintain a little van , budgeting for it's needs it serves us well. Anne-Sophie uses it to reach her clients as a part time carer for elderly and infirm people in this rural region. We don't go out much. I don't get a lot of joy from shopping avoiding it as much as possible. No one gets richer by spending money even money that we have got. God forbid that we be tempted to live on credit. We don't do that. I get stressed up enough worrying about club root on me brassicas. Another eight years of living here with our gradual incremental progress we will have paid for the house, we have only lived here for two and a half years. There is enough wood in the shed to last at least another year. there is work to be done in the little copse,so there will be more wood to come fairly soon. Nothing is wasted. The compost heap deals with most all of our organic "rubbish" . Much satisfaction is gained from the effort we put into our little living. It is a great pity that no opportunity to live this way of life existed for me in U.K. I felt locked out of the country life, I don't believe that it is possible in the post Empire industrial decline. I read about the increase in knife crime , it is a shame for sure. Most kids don't know how to peel potatoes by the time they leave school. That is a crime. They might be better of learning how to assist their domestic economy by being taught how to use a spade as part of the curriculum . Most of Britains food is imported. What isn't, is overpriced. I was malnourished on the disability allowance in U.K. My little garden in Wales was poisoned by generations of folk tipping their coal ash on good soil. So many new houses are built on polluted brown field sites. People can't be expected to grow food on toxic ground. Land rights is predictably going to be a big issue. I pray the day will come when agribusiness is displaced by a return to healthy independent peasant life. Happen it would take many years before the people relearn the basic skills they have lost. Will they ever want to? The velcro generation has difficulty tying shoe laces. "Peasant" is still used as a term of insult. It is a real pity that most of the residents there, aren't.
The "news" that emanates from Britain via the professional media is as wholesome as the septic puss from a carbuncle. I still love my old Albion but it is no longer a healthy enough country in body mind or spirit to risk what is left of my life.
I feel patriotic enough to high principle that being common to all aspiring humanity. My Englishness if there truly is such a thing is not represented by allegiance to a falling standard. What may be commonly understood to be "the British way of life", I'm not convinced that there is a definable one, is by evident conduct seen as being passed it's sell by date. Not export quality that is. And Hey chaps Jerusalem was never truly builded amongst those dark satanic mills. What I'm left with since the enforced exodus from my former homeland, the transferable goods, packs small. My practical working experience, irepressable idealism, my understandings of the historic follies borne of Empire days, my civilised generic code natural and unreconstructed . My lovely English language and a personal philosophy formed in resistance to the school of hard knocks endured throughout my life in Britain. My knackered body worn by naive service to family community and country, carries enough scar tissue to be assured that my working lifetime of hopeful striving wasn't just a bad dream. Intelligence goes with me so too my inspired vision. I remain loyal to what ever may be called lasting good , durable and sustainable within the Sceptred Isle. My integrated culture, seven generations of mixing and acting in service throughout the occupation of the Raj in India, The living continuous memory is carried forward . I am blessed I feel with the sense and the strength to keep moving . I will get to write the whole story in detail some day I feel sure. I have enough notes to fill volumes. In the meantime I will continue to "do the do" as an "Englishman abroad" in a foreign field. My ineffectual blog in the Oblivion zone will record a little of the good news that escaped to freedom. I happy to share some of the benefit, it won't come in the form of a Social Security cheque. I am grateful for the blessed opportunity to pioneer a way forward from the historic Big Mistake.
What is this blog about? You'll have to work that one out yourself. The juggernaut went thataway; I'm still standing.

Snot Izlington...

It's our Toby, enjoying a few minutes well earned rest and a sup of tea. He seemed content enough at the time,woodlogs over weblogs. The job isn't finished yet. Happy chance if someone would kick his arse back to France.I keep writing to him, not much by way of reply. Anne- Sophie and I have missed him. Perhaps we should take more careful aim in future and stop wasting valuable ammunition. October is long gone I wouldn't mind another seasonal photo opportunity this pic is out of date already and besides, you can guess the rest.

Curved space vision...

The weather didn't know whether to laugh or cry today. Warm enough but the whole day was overcast, remaining in what I can only describe as an emotionally unstable and unpredictable condition. I didn't risk mixing mortar for fear my work would be washed away. Instead I dug down to the schist strata and set a small dry stone retaining wall in the trench. The top of the wall rises only as high as the original soil level, the brown earth path will in time become a fast draining soak away a feeder channel for the ground covered by the round house. The trough between the line of large stones in the centre of the image and the wall on the left will eventually be filled with good topsoil and compost to accommodate plants and shrubs, they will earn their keep by filtering the ground water. As the side walls rise so the hole in the centre of the round house kitchen will descend. Magic is happening. It does it on it's own. I guess you would have to be here and see the results in real life to understand. Arcane knowledge, esoteric mysteries, sacred geometry. There are no secrets, all is revealed as work progresses in service to and in support of Life's singular evolutionary destiny. What means this? This means this and that means that.

Home is not a movie...

November gales, driving rain, we had hale yesterday. I entertain fanciful notions of the work to come. There would be no lasting benefit from squelching around outside. I try to stay focused on our little field of interesting responsibility. It is pointless trying to conquer the world with hyperbolic imaginings. I went out, just for a look, and a quick hello to the garden. The nearby oaks are shedding leaves fast the little fig trees are fading into yellow. Cold wet stones didn't give much encouragement to be moved, they can sit tight in their temporary places till we get a long enough dry spell. I am still without adequate wet weather working top coat or slickers, it didn't stop me doing a few minutes hoeing small stones out of the trench that will house the base of a retaining wall in the yard. The distraction of a call for lunch brought me in. The weather looks worse through the window, once the grub has settled I think I'll bring a couple of barrows of stones down, happen it will leave a sign of visible on going progress. Good for morale if nothing else.
A bit o' that, it wasn't bad. A cup of tea for Anne-Sophie and me. She's just got back from taking the goat to be tupped by a local billy. A big day for Capucine, we will walk her back in a few days. It is raining again, too much to be doing. A photo of my hoe idling against a subtly altered landscape will finish off today's post. I'll bring some logs in for the stove relax and daydream about the work to come. All iz well in the Izdom of Iz.

Support for the thornless blackberry...

The sticks make temporary use of the new posts. They will end up as firewood once they have given service. The blackberry bush was grown from a shoot given to us by Marie Therese. I reckon it will cover the supporting sticks within the year. It has stopped raining. I think I'll go outside and get me wellies muddy.

Iz digging in...

Stones layed out ready to be stuck down. There is the begining of a hole in the centre of the kitchen space, a kerb will be set in the schist and built up to finished floor level. The centre of the hole will be the site of an open fire initially which will make digging easier . Using fire and water to break the stone. A stone sleeve will be constructed within and almost touching the kerbstones. as the centre hole gets deeper the sleeve wall will be built up. The foundation of the sleeve, being undermined will cause the sleeve to sink. I have given myself enough space to work comfortably with pick and shovel. How long it will take to achieve the desired result of a well in the house is anyone's guess.I am under the impression that I may have to dig for at least six metres, one at a time please. Meanwhile the outside walls will be built up to accommodate windows and doors. I am a long way from having a roof over my head, being averse to spending time and material resources on temporary structures we are working with a budget much lower than the basic social security level. The subterranean water will be encouraged to stay in the garden space, covered cool and accessable, in principle once the round house is completed the water from the well will be potable, engineered to be so. If I have one nagging concern it is "Moses Syndrome", almost completing the journey then dying, most likely of overwork. A tragedy I will do my best to avoid. I am not Moses.

No instant results...

If only it was as easy as pressing buttons on a keyboard. Perhaps not. I don't deny that I am looking forward to completion but there is great satisfaction in the steady progress. No one is pushing me,I like my work, enjoy the subtle beauty of the earthy colours. I love the garden setting. Everything about the project is upwardly mobile towards permanent prosperity. A small economic miracle. I am putting the mud and rock where they will give optimum long term service. Folk have asked of me why I don't "get a job". I'm laughing. I couldn't afford to. I don't have time. I'm working 0% commission for a cause dearer to my heart than cash wages. It's the best movie in town and I get the privilege to play a leading role. The garden thrives to our attentions and serves us well enough

The eastern threshold...

A Minute or two between barrows...

Folk'll not see much that would make a deal of sense from the projected images on the screen. I dare say there's many would fancy that they understand what they are looking at. They can't see the work nor are they privy to the thinking that goes behind and ahead of it. Understanding photographs leads no one much closer to achieving their own domain. The blog is an indulgence. It lets interested parties and nosey parkers alike know that I am still alive and kicking. The only time you would get to see me working is when you are doing a good bit yourself along side. Over years, if my former family are to be believed, I gained the reputation for being a lazy man. Idle minds gain nourishment from rumour. They that spread it would be better placed with a trowel in their hand and join me on the other side of the social horizon.They might discover a morsel of the truth that bears no relation to their spurious imaginings.
There's tons to do before I even get to start working properly. I'll not daydream on that theme till the workshop facility is built. The "Journeyman's Rest" , is a deliberate misnoma, ambiguous at least. I will merely cease to be a journeyman.
It is trying to rain at present. I have filled some sacks with sand, replenished the water bin. One photo of some of yesterday's work, a little spiral of stone that will house the horns of the subframe of a door. There will be more photos of that as progress is made.
I fully intend to publish a complete explanatory guide to what goes on here. For those who can't be bothered to get off their fat arses and find out in person. I'll get on,Enjoy the pictures.

On the way home...

Just another photo...

Iz on going iz well enough...

New posts...

Anne-Sophie ensures that the ever growing topsoil layer is protected from being washed down the slope of the gully by the winter rain. Our garden surface has risen above the level of the adjacent field. Every season promises to be more fertile than the one preceding. As it should be. Look at what she does on her day off from caring for the aged and infirm. It's not cissy work. Each post requires a hole created by driving an iron bar into the schiste rock below the soil with a small sledge hammer. The planks are temporary till we get around to building the retaining walls. It is proposed we will make a number of gates along the fence line. It is going to look sweet. Saving the Earth starts and ends at home.

Good morning...

What colour is green...?

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Towards tomorrow...

Anne-Sophie iz posting. That was yesterday's news. The on going is well enough in the Izdom of Iz, that's today's news.

It keeps him off the streets...

The pictures are just items from my notebook.They are intended to mean something, that enigmatic something will have to wait for a verbal explaination. Folk are welcome to ask. Right now I am just waiting for the weather to change,we bought two more bags of hydraulic lime yesterday which I am keen to make use of.
Anne-Sophie spent her free time hammering chestnut posts into the ground along the eastern side of the field, she will use them to support planks to retain soil and annually applied compost. The planks will eventually be replaced by a low stone wall. I reckon we will wear out a few trowels before the job is finished.
Happen I'll eat then content meself with filling a few bags of sand. A few logs for the stove would be handy I'll get on and pray for sunshine.

A perfect pudding...

Welcome stranger..

Update on a down day...

I've nearly got round to stabbing out a few words a dozen times since my last posting. I haven't been idle not in the real world. Mixing muck and laying stones. Rain stopped play for a couple of days. Left me twiddling my thumbs in frustration.. Photos would not do you much edifying good without words. I can't believe there would be that much interest in my work to justify the writing. I spent a dry bit of today picking at the ground in front of the house, using a puddle as my spirit level. I am preparing the ground to start building a retaining wall and a tidy surround for three concrete inspection covers. A little toad scuttled off narrowly avoiding being mashed by my hoe. I moved some stones aside to excavate the earth beneath them, I was delighted to spot a black salamander under the last rock. They are fairly rare round here but the population is growing in response to climate change, the green salamander is also making a home in our garden field. They are most welcome. Other local
residents worthy of mention, deer, wild boar, hawks and buzzards, two kinds of woodpecker, heron, jays, pheasant, partridge, owls, foxes, vipers, grass snakes and slow worms. There is more but lists can be as boring to write as they are to read.
It has started raining again. the puddle is spreading out. it will give me a new mark to work from when the deluge stops. I'm told the forecast promises some good working weather for Thursday afternoon. Happen I'll write some more then or maybe I'll give up writing my blog all together, we'll see. This cyberspace filler is the least satisfying part of my little life's progress. Writing it and posting photos sometimes feels like I am feeding the dead.