Mending Fences.

Hello, dear readers!

And a happy December!

Yes, we’ve reached the last stop of the year, the final few weeks, the big finale. Already the 80s radio station I have on in the car (‘cos I’m old), has taken to sprinkling the odd Xmas tune into their selection, as the countdown to that allegedly most wonderful of days truly amps up, and sooner or later, even I will have to take the plunge and start thinking about pressies, parties, and that all important turkey.

Of course, although Xmas is one of the few things to make the year’s latter days worthwhile, the winter brings with it other considerations, too. One of which will feature as the main thrust of this week’s post.

This bleeping weather, eh?

Winter Is... Here
Yes, the weather, that most British of fixations. A national obsession which has become the starting point of so many conversations, be it  rain, sun, rain, a bit of thunder and lightning, rain, an unseasonally warm week or two (also known as Summer), or even a bit of rain, it always seems worthy of comment.

Of course, winter is not just coming, but well and truly upon us, so it’s no great surprise that the barometer is falling as the days shorten and night holds sway. This weekend, however, something else was falling as well… Two somethings, actually.

Panel Beaten
The first of these occurred on Friday night, and I’m guessing I must have slept particularly well that night, because I wasn’t awoken by either the high winds (no not that type), nor by what I can only assume was a rather loud crash.

The noise in question (and again, I’m assuming there was a noise. It’s a bit of a ‘tree falls in a wood and there’s no-one there to hear it’ situation), was caused by a couple of our fence panels going for the proverbial Burton (Richard? The department store?), a fact that only came to light when I let the dog out and immediately panicked that she was going to exploit this brand-new exit and head for the hills, or at least the house the former fence had separated us from. Luckily, she didn’t seem all that bothered about the small pile of wood and the massive gap behind it, but still, it was a worry.

Dancing Round It
This leads us to Saturday, a day on which I already had plans to virtually meet up with Dez, a real-life friend, for some socially distanced internet drinks at 1pm. This left me and my wife, Tina with a limited window to get the garden secured again, so we put out feelers, hit up the interwebz, and consulted with local Facebook pages. The latter proved to be the winner, supplying us with a gardener and handyman who, as it turns out, lives just around the corner. This meant that by twelve o’clock (Drinkies -1), we had contacted said gentleman, and he was heading our way.

All that Chris, (the man in question) could do, was appraise the damage and promise to come back on Monday, as the place he uses for fence panels shut for the weekend at 12pm. He promised to do just this, offered to give the rest of the garden a much needed trim at the same time (which we pounced on) and left just in time for me to get disgustingly drunk over a four-hour chat session with Dez, and the watching of my team (Leeds. I know, I know) stuttering to a 0-0 draw; drinking, which continued as, in payment for watching the footy, I was forced to endure alleged celebrities get sequined up and trip the light fandango in a trumped up talent contest. (I’m not a fan. Does it show?) There may well have been some other telly after that, but I’m a little hazy on the details.

And that brings us in turn to the second fall, that of snow.

Driving Mr. Rankin

Sunday, in the Rankin household is (for fatty here at least) all about the lunch. Every other week we entertain my mother-in-law, Gwen, and on the weekends in between, we are, in turn, entertained by my sister-in-law, Jen. This week was our turn to cook, and it’s fair to say that I spent most of the morning wishing it wasn’t.

Regardless, I pushed through the strange malady which seemed to have taken hold of me and, at about 11:30am, we went to pick Gwen up. On the way there, Tina kept mentioning it was going to snow but, as I am a man, and therefore know better, I poo-poohed these concerns. Turns out I was wrong.

By the time we were a quarter of the way through the return journey, the white stuff was coming down in earnest, and worse, was settling, too. What followed was the quickest Sunday lunch ever committed to a plate, followed by a return journey, better accomplished by skidoo, and driven as slowly and over-carefully as, well, as a slightly hung-over man driving through a blizzard. It wasn’t quick; it wasn’t pretty, but, apart from one heart-in-mouth, tractionless skid, it was safe.

The rest of the day, we hunkered down, looking out at the hated snow (no, I don’t think it’s pretty. I think it’s a horrible, limiting, cold, wet plague of inconvenience. A pox on the land and a blight on my ability to get about. Thank-you for asking, though.), and hoping for a sudden heatwave. After an hour or so of this, I realised I should really phone Chris, and see if the few inches of snow would mean a change of plans. Turns out I needn’t have worried.

Take Care

When Monday came, so did our salvation. Chris and two of his colleagues were at our house at 8am and by 12pm they were gone again with two new fence panels fitted and the brambles threatening to overtake us beaten back. It was sterling work in horrendous conditions, well worth the money, and the speed and thoroughness means there’s a new number saved to the phone, one who can take care of all those little jobs which are sadly out of our reach, and living so close, can do so quickly, too.

Yup, I think Chris may prove a very handy man to know.



Until next time…

***

Hey, folks! If you would care to take a look at some of my more creative writing, then the links below will transport you to the magical worlds of three anthologies my short (and in two cases, very short) stories have been included in. Feel free to check’em out!

Death Ship

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/9198684140/ref=cm_sw_r_apan_glt_fabc_TWEMTA3KWK7T89QEZPF6?fbclid=IwAR322Fx5nfgVUQAA62ZZ6CUsNnBm8pbSxPanzz6Qkjg3vAv4ESipq7iKKhs

https://www.waterstones.com/book/death-ship/david-green/s-o-green/9789198684148?fbclid=IwAR2gP4CXHSG7wTccO39wOqXFtI81k0259Ep8DUM48Ki6kTUdlKoF3yafojA

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/9198684140/ref=ewc_pr_img_1?smid=A2XZ7JICGUQ1CX&psc=1&fbclid=IwAR2Wa6sGxb82_VCsC7l1CGXwHjsSwTheqba6jDX_G8EDsywZoGpC93nXr2w

Reaperman

https://www.amazon.co.uk/Reaperman-Drabbles-3-Legends-Night-ebook/dp/B099NNPTQ1A




Pestilence

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09MSXQ6G9?geniuslink=true