Middle-aged post alert

Spring means a vague attempt by me to grow some veg. I'm fairly black-thumbed so it's always a miracle when I manage anything edible at all. It's not going so badly so far though.

Plum tomato and gherkin seedlings in my mini-windowsill greenhouse.

Orange bell pepper and fuego chilis. I've forgotten which plants are which though...

My chilis and sweet peppers from last year are miraculously still going strong, and flowering already, despite a hefty pruning whereby I chopped about 4 feet off the top.

My heavily-pruned cherry tree blossoming in the yard. Last year it produced the grand total of one cherry at mum and dad's house whilst they were tree-sitting, which was promptly stolen by a bird. I'm hoping for at least two this year.

 

 

Taters just planted out at the front, plus other bits and bobs.

Only half of my sugar snap peas have germinated thus far...

I *think* these are carrots.

My courgettes haven't died yet. There's still time.

Wild strawberry plant (back) I stole back from my yarden in Birmingham, plus a new normal one (front) donated by Mother Goodchild, my source for all things seedy.

So, fingers crossed for a bountiful summer. If I manage to eat any of it I reckon I'm on to a winner.

Recently Discovered Earth*

* (c) Liam Herringshaw 2008


Well, where to start? I appear to have completely lost my mind. I am giving up a well-paid job to move to a country where there is 10 months of winter and 2 of summer, and very few job prospects for an archaeologist.



My other half has been given a two-year post at Memorial University in Newfoundland and, after nearly 3 years of frequent visits up to Aberdeen I've had enough of killing the environment with my frequent flying. Commuting to Canada for weekend visits is a step too far...

To cap it all I'm moving over in mid-January, which is possibly the stupidest time to go, given the pack ice, sleet, and general arctic nature of the place. I think this excerpt from the current Provincial anthem sums it up nicely:

When spreads thy cloak of shimm'ring white,

At winter's stern command,

Thro' shortened day and starlit night,

We love thee, frozen land,

We love thee, we love thee,

We love thee, frozen land.

When blinding storm gusts fret thy shore,

And wild waves lash thy strand,

Thro' sprindrift swirl and tempest roar,

We love thee, windswept land,

We love thee, we love thee,

We love thee, windswept land.

Of course there's every opportunity for things to go a bit wrong: I don't have a job lined up properly or a work permit, but these are mere trivialities and I won't let that get in the way of my excitement. Come February I may still be in the UK and regretting handing in my notice but fingers crossed this won't be a problem. I have more things to worry about once I get there:

1) permanent frizzy hair due to sleet and wind
2) premature skin aging from adverse weather conditions
3) contracting hypothermia on landing
4) being mauled by gigantic Newfoundland dogs
5) having to tie down my house with rope
6) developing rickets due to Vitamin D deficiency
7) being attacked by Skraelings*

* see Saga of Erik the Red


I'm sure that many of these fears are completely unfounded... except the dog one ... ;o)

Andre the Giant

I have a new bike. He is black and shiny and I love him. He is called Andre after my favourite Princess Bride rhyming giant (Giant *is* the bike's make after all...). I have a terrible habit of giving things ridiculous names based on terrible puns (cf. my car - Rolf Yaris). I can only apologise.

I haven't cycled since I tore my knee ligament a few years ago playing rugby (I was never any good - hence the injury!) so it was a bit of a shock to the system to make my first commute today. I've been feeling guilty about driving to work every day for ages so now I'm planning on making it my new regime, and I'm hoping I can keep it up. Trouble is, after only two half hour rides I am utterly saddle-sore in places that are unmentionable on the Internet. I am planning on using my sewing skills to create some sort of hilarious cushioned fun-fur saddle cover to make me feel like I'm riding on my sofa. It's the only way forward - being Green*and* indulging in my craft addiction.

The other problem is the fact that I cycle on a canal. Getting on and off is not exactly easy and I feel like I'm taking part in a triathlon when I heave Andre onto my shoulders and run up and down the steps. It's not really me, I am far too weak and pathetic, so a non-step-related route is required. Along with a body that functions ...