Happily Ever After
Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running
The Big Green Oil Machine
by admin - 22:11 on 15 October 2011
The good news is that the digger has gone from the garden (Matchgirl, to her delight, was allowed to pilot it down the drive but bottled out of turning right at the bottom) and our reversing area is free of obstructions. Also gone is the ancient oil tank – a very leaky one, as it turned out. Mr Labourer mentioned the fact several times.
In its place, on a beautifully constructed flagstone plinth, is a modern, green, low-slung model that communicates wirelessly with a gadget plugged into a kitchen socket to let us know the oil level and flash a warning light when it gets too low. Apparently some oil tanks can send a message to Mr Fuel-Deliverer when they want a top-up. Whatever next? An app for Matchgirl's phone?
All that's left for Mr Labourer to do is to level the area around the tank so we can prettify it whatever way we choose. Mr Gardener has promised to drop by, take a look, and make a few suggestions.
Bess must have missed the smell of oil. This morning she contrived to get herself shut in the outhouse when Matchgirl extracted the mower, preparatory to giving the lawn this year's (we hope) final cut. Her anxious owner, who freed her several hours later, feared the moggy was high on fumes from the petrol can we keep there for the mower. Maybe that's why Bess didn't respond to Matchgirl's calls until she went into the outhouse for the third time.
I missed most of the drama, for I was manning another market stall in a bid to boost sales of The Bumper Book of Black Isle Snappery. Strathpeffer's commerce was even quieter that Cromarty's last weekend but I did come out ahead by selling one copy, plus one of my prints and a handful of cards.
Photographic self-sufficiency is a long way off.
Band Update: Shaker is dead. Long live Straw Dogs. Michael, the band's most recent member, came up with the new moniker, just in time for our gig next Friday. He's never seen the film. However, no-one could come up with anything better.
We're able to have only one more rehearsal before we cry havoc and let slip the dogs of straw. Some of the discordant sounds that echoed around at Thursday's gathering suggest that we'd better make the most of it.
Dancing Update: I had initial difficulty choosing who to support in this year's Strictly Come Dancing competition – Cherie Lunghi set the bar impossibly high. None of the female celebrities set my pulse racing (and I've been warned off Alex Jones, this year's Matchgirl Irrational Dislike) so I'm cheering footballer Robbie Savage, who's much more appealing than his reputation suggests. That his partner is Ola is just a lucky bonus...
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