For me, 2023 has been a funny old year. It was the end of our little chicken flock, of course, and I don't feel like I've got very much done around here, but let's take a look back and see. I started with a review of 2022, in which I declared I wanted to write here more regularly. Oops. I also said I'm hesitant to make any predictions, but I'd like 2023 to be a year of progress, where I feel like a few jobs get ticked off the DIY list. I'd like the kitchen and dining room to be finished, to have properly moved into the new bedroom (the mattress is still just on the floor at the minute), and to have set up my craft room. I'd like the stairs to be finished, and maybe even to have made a start on the bathroom. Well. Hmm. I had a long period off work over Christmas, when I painted the second coat of yellow on the kitchen walls, finished the thermal blinds, and shovelled some compost. The chickens were under an avian flu lockdown order, but we did rehome two new ladies, Skippy and Daisy. It snowed a bit, I started planning the garden, and we finally rebuilt our bed in the new bedroom. January on the homestead was relatively uneventful, aside from the new chickens, and a trip to the vets for Bessie. In February, the weather got a little brighter. I spent quite a bit of time outside, starting the new extension to the chicken run, pruning some bushes which were encroaching over the footpath, and weeding the veg patch with some friends. The rhubarb started growing, and I donated some of our tree guards to a community project. Indoors, we cleaned and restocked the pantry - a large and very satisfying job. March on the homestead was slightly more eventful. The daffodils arrived, but then so did a large snow storm that had me staying at a friend's house for three days because the roads home were all closed. I did a bit of batch cooking and got the dehydrator out of hibernation. I had a trip to stay with a friend, and poor old Sunshine chicken had a trip to the vets. April on the homestead was grim. We lost both Sunshine and Budgie, leaving us with just our elderly Bessie and the new chickens we'd rehomed in January. I did clean out the greenhouse and start making some new staging, and we finally took the Christmas tree down, but on the whole I was glad to see the back of April. May on the homestead was also pretty grim. We lost our beloved Bessie chicken at almost six years old, and we were heartbroken, especially so soon after losing Sunshine and Budgie. We made the difficult decision to rehome Skippy and Daisy - we'd only had them a few weeks, and couldn't face getting any more. A horrible time. We took ourselves off for a couple of much-needed restorative trips to the seaside. I did a lot of exercise, joining in with IronMay for Cancer Research UK. June on the homestead was rather more cheerful, although it felt very quite round here without the chickens. I strimmed the grass, we had a BBQ with friends, and I finished making my greenhouse benches. We also looked after our dog friend for a few days. We didn't get any DIY done, but the house did get struck by lightening, wiping out Peter's computer. July on the homestead was busy! I made a new bird table, we started gathering stones to make windowsills, and I finally planted out some courgette plants. I did a fair bit of batch cooking, started clearing compost from the chicken run, and cleared moss from the terrace by the front door. We had the side of the house rendered, set up the spare bedroom as a craft room, and I started the scything. The garden felt quite overwhelming in August, but I did make some progress. Some friends came to help with the scything, and we got a fair bit done over a weekend. We finally got round to hanging the hammock, and I spent quite a bit of my fortnight off just hanging around in it. Yet more scything in September, and I harvested a load of damsons (but not much else) and made some washing liquid from my own homemade soap. The weather was nice at the start of October, so yet more scything was done. We visited some friends, and I spent quite a lot of time applying for a new job.
November and December kind of got lost along the way. We went to Berlin, it snowed quite a bit, and we got all festive and cosy. Did I do all the things I planned for 2023. No. We moved into the new bedroom, and set up the craft room, painted the kitchen and finished sewing the blinds, but that was it for inside the house. Outside, I did more scything than ever (but still didn't finish the field), barely grew any veg, and spent quite a bit of time cursing the grass for growing so quickly. We've had various bouts of illness between us, and losing the chickens took its toll on our enthusiasm for a good while. So what will 2024 bring? I really do want to get the kitchen and dining room finished, and the stairs too. I'd love to make a start on the bathroom too. Outside - finishing scything the whole field of course (I imagine I'll still be saying that when I'm 60, without once having achieved it). I think 2024 might be the year I take a rest from veg growing. The last few years I've grown, failed to plant out in time, and whatever has grown, I've not harvested. I think I want a break. I'll scatter some flower seeds in the veg beds, but otherwise focus on seating, pruning, tidying up what's there, and a few little garden projects. We'll see.
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Today is my last day off work, and right now I'm not feeling ready to go back tomorrow. I can't complain. I've had 24 days off - nearly an entire month - and I'm well aware how fortunate I am. We had all kinds of plans, and sadly many of them have been abandoned through one person or another being ill. We managed to get as far as Christmas eve before Peter got ill, and then I caught it too, the day after my race, and we've both been snivelling and snuffling and coughing and spluttering ever since, staying in separate rooms, well away from each other. Still, I am trying to slowly ease myself out of illness and back into activity, and as part of that I'm trying to pin down my days, to make me remember what I've been doing. I did make a trip to see some of my family, which was lovely, although the drive wiped me out all of the following day. Closer to home, we wrapped up and wandered down an unfamiliar footpath in a familiar town, and although the weather was a bit grim, it was nice to be out, and to see the beginnings of green shoots in the ground. One day, we sneaked the chickens into the house - a rare treat under the avian flu lockdown. While Peter supervised their shenanigans, I took the opportunity of having them out of the way to clear out their run, digging several barrows of compost out and tipping it onto the veg beds, and getting soaked in the process by the fine mist. It felt good to be doing something out in the garden, even if only for an hour, and it felt good to have the run all nicely tidied up, ready for the arrival of the new chickens next weekend. It's warmer (and drier) inside the house of course, and I've been pottering about finishing the thermal blinds and painting a second coat on the kitchen. I created quite a mess in the process, but slowly things are coming together, with little corners here and there almost seeming finished. So, it's back to work for me tomorrow. From home, thank goodness - easing myself in gently.
I confess I have a new, not-so-secret plan for this year. After a lot of pondering and staring at my diary, I've realised it might just be possible for me to be at work for less than half of the days in every month this year. Wouldn't that be a thing? For me, 2022 has been a fairly gentle year, a much needed rest after the chaos of 2021 and the strangeness of 2020. Let's have a little look back at how the year unfolded. I started with a review of 2021, declaring that I wanted 2022 to be more restful, and to keep the house slightly less chaotic - which I'm pleased to say have both been achieved. My post about December on the homestead showed the state the house had become, and I'm delighted it's never got to that level since. January on the homestead was a busy one - we didn't do any DIY, but we looked after a family member's dog while they were in hospital, and sadly lost Bunty chicken. On the homestead in February, we had lots of weather, noticed signs of spring, and started painting the kitchen (which I'm ashamed to say I still haven't finished!) March on the homestead was productive. The chickens were still in flockdown under the Avian Flu housing order, and we had two rather expensive home visits for Bessie, our oldest chicken. I did some batch cooking, painted the bedroom, cleaned out the greenhouse, turned the compost, cleared the veg garden, and finally took the Christmas tree down. In April, I pondered how to make this place feel more like home and less like a building site. My April on the homestead post shows that I spent a lot of time outside. We hired a power scythe to tackle the remainder of the hay field (which we won't be repeating), strimmed the garden, and ate our first meal of the year outdoors. In May, I talked about some local adventures I'd had, did some more wandering, and vowed to do even more in the future (which I never quite got round to). May on the homestead was pretty cheerful. The avian flu housing order was lifted, so the chickens could roam free again. I retreated from the internet and found a whole load more time. I finally got round to planting some seeds, and tidied up quite a bit in the house and garden. June on the homestead felt busy, although I wasn't sure there was much to show for it at the time. I harvested some fruit, wheelbarrowed a lot of woodchip, did some spring cleaning, and we had our dog friend to stay again for a few days. In July, I found myself getting back to making things - in this case a blanket for a friend's baby, a new hot water bottle cover, and some washing liquid (which I'm still not even half way through). In July on the homestead, we did a lot of lazing around with the chickens, tidied odd corners of the house, and pondered the general state of the garden (which was rather out of hand). Then I caught covid for the first time, and spent yet more time sitting around sewing. In August we sadly lost Bonny chicken. August on the homestead was all about scything, and it looked like we might just get a decent apple crop (spoiler - we didn't). September on the homestead involved yet more scything, and considerable progress was made. Moles took over the garden, I made Peter a new hat, we made a hay box, and I took part in the local well dressing. September was a nicely sociable month, so not much else done, but we spent a lot of time hanging around with other people, which was lovely. In October, we had a little trip to the seaside. On the homestead, my thoughts turned to the cold weather ahead, and I had a little foray into carpet fitting, and started making thermal blinds. In November, we unexpectedly lost Poppy chicken. We took a trip to Edinburgh for a wedding, and had a few local days out. In November on the homestead, I made more progress on my thermal blinds, and sewed some present bags. Sadly, the bird flu housing order came even earlier this year, so they went into flockdown quite early in November, having only been out for just over six months. I hope this doesn't become an annual occurrence, but it's looking increasingly likely that it will. December on the homestead saw yet more thermal blinds (for the kitchen this time), more present bags, and the start of some rather chilly weather.
So overall, 2022 was indeed more restful than 2021, and the house did stay the right side of chaos for most of the year, although I have despaired occasionally at how long it's taking us to get everything finished. And what about 2023? I'd like to write on here more - for most of 2022 I only managed one post a month, and while I'm glad I did that, I do miss more regular ramblings. I'm hesitant to make any predictions, but I'd like 2023 to be a year of progress, where I feel like a few jobs get ticked off the DIY list. I'd like the kitchen and dining room to be finished, to have properly moved into the new bedroom (the mattress is still just on the floor at the minute), and to have set up my craft room. I'd like the stairs to be finished, and maybe even to have made a start on the bathroom. Outside, I want the chickens to finally get their new extension, the whole hay field to be scythed (I got so close in 2022!), the garden to be productive, all fruit and veg to be harvested, processed, and stored away in a beautiful pantry. Not too much to ask, is it? I've never liked coffee. The whole of my adult life I've been a tea drinker - and some would argue I drink far too much of it. Lately though, I've been finding that something in it unsettles my stomach, and with a helping hand from our favourite local cafe, I've been experimenting with coffee for the first time. I've not progressed further than a mocha and a one-shot latte, but it's a fun experiment, and any adventure that involves swirly patterns on top of your drinks has got to be a good one. I'm drifting at the minute, not really quite sure what to do with myself. Everything seems up in the air. There's so much chaos in the wider world it feels overwhelming, at work we are on strike again, and the list of things to do at home gets longer every day. I'm in high need of a rest. Fortunately, I'm off work for ten days in a row (we'll ignore the lack of pay for now). As usual, two days in and I feel like the time is drifting away from me, and I'd better Make A List before it's time to go back to work and I've done nothing. I do have some plans. A friend's birthday, another visit from the vet. And I do have a bit of a list - swimming, a couple of walks, sorting out the appalling state of the garden, hiring a power scythe (more on that later), sorting out the appalling state of the house. Yawn. At least the weather is nice, although apparently that's going to change this week. I've spent quite a bit of today outside, basking in the sunshine, hanging out the washing, and moving wood, stones, and old windows, detritus of winter projects, so that one day soon I might be able to mow the grass. Some parts of the garden are starting to feel calm, if you look in the right direction and squint a bit. I've gathered all the pallets back into their pile, and the scrap wood that is leftover from fixing the chicken run is all stored away now. I've even started putting some of the woodchip onto the paths in the veg beds. The driveway feels calm, at least. When we first saw this house, it was early August, and I had dreams of planting daffodils down both sides. We arrived in late February, and once the snow had melted, the daffodils appeared all by themselves. Each year there are more, and they make me very cheerful indeed. One thing I do want is to move into the new bedroom. I've had 'oil skirting boards' on my list since before Christmas, and it's still there. The painting has progressed - but I've still got one coat of gold paint on one wall to do. But that's it - once those things are done, we'll be moving in, even though there are no windowsills, and no curtains, and no clothes storage.
And once the bed's moved, maybe I'll finally have a nap. I confess I'm quite glad to see the back of 2021. It's been a year of tiresome upheaval, and I can only hope that 2022 will be better. Still, some fun has been had, and some progress has been made. I started the year by reflecting on 2020, a year of strangeness all round. We were still under covid restrictions, and I was working at home, and did a fair bit of walking in the snow. The weather was pretty grim, the chickens were in their own version of lockdown, and I spent a lot of time indoors, and made a hot water bottle cover and some calendula balm. January on the homestead was a mixed bag. Miraculously, the veg patch was still producing. The locked-down chickens weren't impressed at having their freedom curtailed (but were cosy and safe). I spent a fair bit of time adding battens and insulation to the kitchen ceiling, and a few signs of spring were starting to emerge. February on the homestead was cold, with more snow, but I cleared out the greenhouse and moved the raspberry canes, and started to think about spring. I put some plasterboard up on the kitchen ceiling, and we made the momentous decision to get a builder in to finish the work on the house. In March, we did some spring cleaning, got rid of a lot of stuff, and pondered what our new kitchen should look like. Sadly, we lost Chippy, one of our new chickens, at only a year old. On the homestead in March I planted seeds, and seedlings emerged. Bessie chicken was given a new lease of life with another hormonal implant, and finally, covid restrictions were eased a little, and we were allowed visitors in the sunshine. I had some time off work at the start of April, and, as usual, felt a bit like I was drifting. I tried to give myself a sense of purpose by posting every day, which didn't last very long. I did get have a flurry of productivity though, getting out on my bike, and processing a load of kale from the garden, and we went on a few small adventures. In April on the homestead, the sun came out. We were awash with daffodils, the seedlings were coming on nicely, and I started preparing the garden for spring. The chickens were finally released from avian flu lockdown and spent many happy hours hanging out in the sunshine. Inside the house, I put up some more plasterboard on the kitchen ceiling. In May on the homestead, I was busy with work, and not much happened. I did clear some of the deep litter from the chicken run to mulch the veg beds. It was still snowing, but the seedlings were cosy in the greenhouse. I made a bit of hay, and we made a start on a permanent extension for the chicken run. In June on the homestead, the weather was glorious, and everything else was chaos. We bought a new car, both had a tooth removed, and had three trips to the vets. We spent a lot of time liaising with kitchen designers, which is a thing I never thought I'd say. The meadows were looking glorious though, and we did make good progress on the chicken run extension. At the end of June, we lost Beaky, the first of our second batch of rescue chickens to leave us for the great dust bath in the sky. In July, I got very enthusiastic about cafes (as usual), spent a productive afternoon in the garden, and spent a day pottering around other people's gardens with a friend. July on the homestead was busy. I was off for a fortnight, and the weather was uncharacteristically hot. We finished the bulk of the work on the chicken run extension with the help of some friends, tidied the garden, and painted the outside of the house. The veg patch was in fine form, and we spent quite a bit of time just hanging around. In August on the homestead, we spent a lot of time preparing for the arrival of the builders, and neglected the garden. We had some harvesting successes, but lost most of our potatoes to blight. I made some hay, had some visitors, and had a grand opening of the chicken run extension. The builders arrived at the end of the month, and made a good start on reshaping the kitchen and bedroom. In September on the homestead, the builders were still here, and I was back in the office (occasionally) for the first time in months, but I dropped to working five days, regaining my beloved Fridays off after six years of working full time. The plaster was stripped off the walls, new boarding was added upstairs, lintels replaced, and the plaster started going on. Downstairs, the drain for the sink was moved, and plasterboards started going on. Much progress. There was chaos in the veg patch, but we spent many evenings sitting outside, cooking over a fire. October on the homestead wasn't much fun. Lots of progress was made on the building work - plastering both upstairs and downstairs, and I even started painting. We had two poorly chickens, so several vets trips. Work was busy, and the garden was, again, sorely neglected, although I did get a bit more scything done. In early November, we lost Rusty - companion to Beaky who died earlier in the year, and leaving Bessie as our remaining elder rescue chicken from that batch. Too sad. November on the homestead brought much progress, and also some chaos. The builders were replaced by the kitchen fitters, we chose carpet for upstairs, and family came to help me paint. Shortly after the loss of Rusty, we adopted three new chickens, Poppy, Budgi,e and Sunshine, who had a couple of weeks to settle in before the avian flu housing order hit and they were all confined to the run. Storm Arwen knocked a powerline down in our field, and we were without electricity for four days, and without heating for six days. Not to be recommended. In December, the granite worktops arrived, and the builders and kitchen fitters finally left (aside from one tiny, annoying bit of snagging that still needs sorting). I finished work for a fortnight, and finally felt able to start preparing for Christmas. Christmas itself was quiet, with a small amount of pottering, and a lot of planning and scheming for the new year. So there we are. A year of upheaval and chaos, and not even half of it has made it onto the blog. But we cooked Christmas dinner in our new kitchen, and ate it at the dining table, and while there is still much DIY to do, we are mostly free of tradespeople traipsing in and out. We made the right decision to get them in, and on the whole they've done a great job, but goodness me it's been a stressful ride.
We lost three beloved chicken, and rescued three new ladies. We finally have a kitchen, and a bedroom, and an extension to the chicken run. I've dropped a day at work, and I can't tell you how much I love having Fridays off again. What will 2022 bring? I'm not making any grand plans. I'm tired, and so my main aim at the minute is to get enough rest, and to keep the level of tidiness in the house always at a high enough level to maintain sanity. Other than that, the usual plans to exercise more, grow lovely things in the garden, finally scythe the entire hay field, keep up with the dry stone walls. But really, who knows. The last two years have shown us that the best laid plans can go awry in the face of circumstances, so we'll see. It's been a quiet Christmas round here, quieter than usual. Not all through choice, but I've enjoyed the resting. Miraculously, we managed to clear the dining room of all the building paraphernalia in time to have Christmas Dinner at the table. I can't tell you how thrilled I am. Of course, there's plenty still to do, but it's been two years since we've been able to sit at a table to eat, or had a proper kitchen to cook in, and the novelty won't wear off for a good while. I had a good two days of proper doing nothing, except sitting about with a notebook and pens, plotting and scheming exciting plans for next year. This is one of my favourite activities for over Christmas. We were threatened with snow on Christmas Day evening, and quailed a little at the thought, after the last bout of snow knocked our power out for four days, but fortunately this time things were a little more sedate. Today we've started to try a little activity. Not much. I've done some batch cooking for the freezer. Peter started to sort out our food store cupboard, some of which has been inaccessible for a good while. We'll start to work our way through it in the new year. We've sat out with the chickens, and taken them some treats. They're under another avian flu housing order, so legally confined to their run. Given the weather we've had lately, they wouldn't have been out much anyway. It's almost impossible to get a good picture in there though, especially as they won't stand still. The new ladies do seem to be settling in well, thank goodness, and they are all tolerating each other nicely, and occasionally behaving almost like a coherent little flock. Back inside, I've been painting the bedroom ceiling. I wanted to do this before the carpet was put down, and then before Christmas, and now I'm aiming for before next year. Half of it is done now, and I can reach the other half without standing on a ladder, so that should speed things up a little. I do hate painting ceilings though. I've still got another week off work, and I'm going to put it to good use. The rest of the bedroom ceiling, of course, and that gold wall needs another coat. We're hoping to get the bed in here before the weekend. I've still got Christmas presents to buy (one year I'll actually be organised, but obviously not this year).
Maybe there'll even be time for a sneaky cafe trip. Maybe. I've been off work for a week now, and I feel like the days have been drifting lazily by. This is good, but I do want to pin down what I've been doing, because I know from experience that if I don't, I'll go back to work feeling like I've done 'nothing', when in fact the days have been full of extraordinary everyday moments. We've had some glorious sunshine, and had our first visitors since September, and I can't tell you how lovely it was to sit outside in the sunshine. The world seems such a brighter place when the sun shines, doesn't it? Full of possibilities. I even did some cleaning. We took some of our visitors round the fields - there are some signs of life in the woodland, and yet another dry stone wall collapse. We've been elsewhere to visit family and friends as well, and the weather has treated us very well indeed. I managed to get out on my bike, down one of the old railway trails - I'd forgotten just how much fun cycling is, and have now ordered a parking permit so I can go whenever I like without having to find change for the parking meter. I've pottered about in the garden - an activity that is far more fun now the chickens have finally been released from almost 16 weeks under their 'flockdown' housing order. It's so nice to have them roaming around in the garden with me. So there has been lots of rest and lazing around and visiting so far, but I've started to feel a vague sense of drifting, and like I 'should' be doing something. I get this often, and I do try to fight it - rest is important, and I don't want to fill my entire holidays with 'shoulds'.
Nonetheless, there are things that need doing, and I know a sense of achievement makes me feel good. And all the days are starting to feel like they're merging into one, and I don't want to lose any more of my holiday to internet scrolling and supermarket trips. So, as I often do when I start to feel a little like this, I'm going to post in here more often, trying to pin down the cheerful moments in what I've done each day, creating a record to look back on at the end of the holidays. I'm not sure where today is going yet. We have to collect a prescription, and we'll probably combine that with a walk and a couple of errands. I might try to jump start the second car, which has had a flat battery for weeks. But I feel like there needs to be something fun in there too - even if it's just some light garden pottering with the chickens. We'll see. I started 2020 by looking back at 2019, and reflecting that it had been rather less eventful than 2018. I'm not entirely sure what to say about 2020, but let's see, shall we? After reflecting on 2019, I made a start on my 20 for 2020 list, of 20 things I planned to do during the year. I thought a lot about walls (I still do), and caught up on November and December in the garden. Then I went through a flurry of making things, including my own pants and a path across the grass. I waffled on about all the things I don't do, and spent a couple of weeks tracking my days (something I love to do and may do again). I ended the month with an update of my 20 for 2020 list. I started February with another post tracking my days, then moved on to start my 'on the homestead' series, which I've enjoyed very much and will continue in 2021. I joined a running group and started running again, then it snowed, and I made a hat! I'd stopped waffling quite so much by March - just a February on the homestead post (I'd started making compost bins and plastering the bedroom), a 20 in 2020 update, and then a post about how strange the world had become as we went into our first lockdown. April began with an update on March's 20 in 2020 progress, and March on the homestead. I got used to running on my own again as our running group could no longer meet, we mourned the loss of Mildred, one of our original chickens. I organised a virtual Easter egg hunt for my nephews, made orange curd and some simple cushion covers, and had an extremely quiet and uneventful 40th birthday. I finished the month with another 20 in 2020 update. May began with an April on the homestead post (I finished the compost bin, bought a dehydrator, and made a bit of progress on rebuilding the field wall). Tragedy struck again tragically we lost our final original chicken, Maud. I finally got started on growing some veg, and I ended the month reflecting on the sunshine and the weirdness of lockdown. I was quiet in June, just doing May's 20 in 2020 update, and reporting on May on the homestead - we made good progress on the veg beds, the seedlings started growing, and we had to unblock the septic tank overflow pipe. In July, I made up for June's quietness with an epic fourteen blog posts. We began with a chicken themed post - Bessie had a hormonal implant, and we picked up our new chickens, Bonnie, Bunty and Chippy. Then I got stuck. The pandemic, and the lockdown, finally started fraying my nerves. I started the slow progress of dragging myself back to cheerfulness, which was helped considerably when the restrictions changed and we were able to visit a friend for a pizza in their garden. I had a very long Tuesday, an even longer Wednesday, and an also long Thursday. I took Friday off, went for a bike ride, and we had visitors in our revamped garden shelter. We had more visitors over the weekend (and another bike ride), and then I finally got round to doing updates for June on the homestead and 20 in 2020. Still in July, I had a week off - visited some of my family, had some more visitors, and went for a couple of long walks. I started making hay again, and spent quite a lot of time bicycling. I began August with updates on July in the homestead (the veg patch was looking good, the new chickens were getting used to being out and about, and we had a few lots of visitors), and 20 in 2020. I had a bicycling hiatus after getting punctures in both bikes, sharpened my scythe, and had a fortnight off, during which I got a bit grumpy, went on several exciting adventures, did quite a bit of plotting and scheming, and finished with tracking an ordinary day. I ended the month with August's 20 in 2020 update. September began with an August on the homestead update - some success and some failure in the veg patch, a bit of hay, and a very tiny bit of DIY. It started to feel distinctly like autumn, and we finally walked to the top of the big hill behind our house. Then the autumn equinox happened, and I was just not ready for the slow descent towards winter. October began with a September on the homestead update - some harvesting, a dramatic cow rescue, and endless scything - and then a 20 in 2020 update too. The clocks went back, and I felt like I'd emerged from a particularly difficult period at work (a feeling that quickly vanished...). An October on the homestead update started November - we'd started making plans for our woodland, and harvested some turnips, but mostly just looked out of the window. Then there was another 20 in 2020 update, followed by a walk in the woods with some friends. December started with a November on the homestead post - slowly putting the veg patch to sleep, bringing in the last of the failed hay, the first frost, making damson gin, and painting the kitchen ceiling beams. This was followed by a 20 in 2020 update, and a wander through the solstice. I then managed to get ahead of myself, with a final 20 in 2020 round up, and I ended the year fittingly with December on the homestead - the chickens went into lockdown after a bird flu outbreak, we had quite a bit of snow, and our new woodland arrived. A fitting end to a rather turbulent year.
So there we are. I'm always surprised when I do these end of year posts - what I remember from the year isn't always what I've written about here - but it is lovely to look back. Every year I vow to write each month as I go along, and every year I curse myself for not doing so. Hey ho. I wonder what 2021 will bring? I've made plans, of course, but as we all know, plans can rather suddenly be changed. I'm going to keep it simple and hope for meals with friends and maybe an adventure or two. The clocks went back last night, and while I'm not looking forward to the darker evenings, I'm enjoying the early morning light today. I've had a rather busy and stressful few weeks at work, and now that the worst is over, I feel like I'm emerging, blinking and stumbling, back into real life. I feel like I've forgotten what to do with my evenings. I've been working until 7 or 8, having tea, then being so tired I'm asleep by half 9 some nights, so there's been barely any time to do anything else. What did I used to do in the evenings? This week I'm going to try to remember. I've (mostly) not been working weekends though, so regular cafe trips have remained, thank goodness. This weekend we tried a new (to us) place which was cheerful enough and will likely become our new haunt when we're over that way. And of course we've not been forgetting our old favourite cafe. Aside from that, though, I couldn't really tell you what I've been doing at the weekends. Sleeping. Hanging out with the chickens. Looking in despair at the state of the garden. Last weekend the Permaculture Association held its annual convergence, online this year, of course. I signed up, and spend several hours watching sessions while I did a bit of knitting. It was nice, and felt relatively normal. I've still got a few more sessions to watch. At the minute the desire to watch them is outweighed by the desire to not stare any more at a computer screen, so maybe that's not a job for today, although listening while staring out of the window isn't a bad compromise. Yesterday I had a day of gentle pottering, not doing anything that needed doing, except slowly restoring my body and soul, which of course is really the most necessary thing. I had a long bath with an escapist book. We went to a cafe, and a charity shop, I had several long conversations, and I raked some leaves into a pile, which the chickens promptly spread back out. It was a good day. Today it's not raining, so I want to spend some more time outside, maybe doing a bit of weeding (although we're already straying into 'ticking things off the internal to-do list' territory there). Perhaps a cafe breakfast, although at the minute it's 8.30am, which of course feels like 9.30am, and the cafe doesn't open til 10am, so I might have to have pre-breakfast first.
I want to spend some time thinking about this list of ways to thrive during the pandemic. Kt was my tutor for my permaculture diploma for a while, and through her own illness has gained a lot of insight into ways to live a good life when you can't do all the things you would usually do. I love her work, both written and drawn, and today plan to spend some time pondering, reflecting, and seeing how I can build some of her tools into my days. One thing I have started doing recently is keeping a small jug of flowers on my desk. It reminds me I have a life outside of work, and that there are cheerful things outside if only I step away from the screen for long enough to see them. I've spent much of today staring at a slightly more rainy version of this view from the living room window. It's nearly September, which is one of my favourite times of year for plotting and scheming. There's a third of the year left, which gives a sense of hope that there's still time to achieve something, and it's the start of the new school year, which always gives me a sense of promise. I'm in a pondering mood, and have been thinking about plans, both short and longer term. I don't think I really made any resolutions this year, so there's nothing concrete to look back on and try to make a final push of progress. I've got my 20 in 2020 lists of course, but that's more about cheerful little things I wanted to spend my time on, rather than big overall goals. I usually do some planning towards the end of each month, and at the start of each year I create lists, split into categories (home, garden, health, money, for me, for us, and 'other'), and allocate goals to time points (within one month, within three months, within six months). I revisit these throughout the year, and often find myself shifting things down the categories when I haven't finished them. Today I'm doing lots of pondering about these categories, and what the future might bring, and what I'd like it to bring, so I might as well share some of my ramblings here. Don't expect too much coherent thought... Home This should really have been the main focus for this year, but for various reasons it hasn't been, and I'd like that to change. There are two elements: (1) DIY; and (2) general tidiness. In relation to DIY, this has been our kitchen since the builders replaced our sagging, rotten joists at the end of last year. We've become far too used to our temporary kitchen in another room, with a microwave, toaster, tiny oven, and two-ring induction hob. The sink is at the bottom of that small staircase in the left of the picture, and the temporary kitchen is at the top, so it's rather a nuisance to trek up and down to drain rice and do the washing up. Not enough of a nuisance that it's prompted us to do anything about fixing the kitchen though. We paid for the builders to do the ceiling, but wisely or not, we're doing the rest ourselves. Or not doing the rest ourselves, as the case may be. There has been some progress this month - I've ordered everything we need to fit insulation and plasterboard in between the joists, and done an experimental section which I'm delighted to stay is still attached to the ceiling several days later. I remembered that towards the end of doing our old house ready to sell it, I created a separate page on my blog where I listed what I'd done each day. You can see it here - it covers the last year before we sold the house, and looking back now I'm in awe of what I got done (that list was just things I did, not Peter) on top of a full time job. I think I need some more of that energy and focus now, so I've created myself a new page on this blog to do the same thing. We don't have the same sense of urgency (we're not planning on moving again any time soon, if ever), but I would like at least a semi-functional kitchen by Christmas, even if it's not completely finished. We'll see. The second aspect of home is day-to-day tidiness. I've always struggled with this. I'm not naturally tidy, but I do like living in a relatively tidy home - but having a building site in the middle of the house tends to make me feel like not bothering. We try to keep the living room/temporary kitchen/bathroom areas of the house clean and relatively tidy, and the room where I work, but other than that, things are rather a scruffy mess. Washing doesn't get put away, chicken bowls pile up and occasionally go mouldy, bottle recycling accumulates for months before being taken to the tip (I'm blaming lockdown for the most recent incarnation of that last one). I don't really have anything wise to say about this. I've been re-reading Rhonda's blog about housework and homemaking and trying to rediscover the joy, and it does help. I seem to remember it was a lot easier (and more pleasant) to keep on top of things when our old house was finished and all our possessions were stored in the cellar. Hmm... Garden and land Oh I have so many things to say about this! So many plans! So many overwhelming plans! Fencing in an area to use as a veg patch this year was a great idea, and it has gladdened my heart to see at least one area kept relatively tidy and productive. I've not harvested much though, and I'm thinking a lot about what to grow next year that (a) is more likely to grow well (no more sweetcorn) and (b) that we actually want to eat (so perhaps fewer turnips). The chickens have been both a worry and a delight these past few months. The new ones are finally settling in, and they're all starting to behave like a coherent flock. Bessie's feathers have grown back, but now Rusty is limping after I stood on her foot when she sneaked up behind me as I was getting the shopping out of the car. Sigh. Their run now has a roof, but it's not had the weather-proofing effect we'd hoped for, so that's another project that will have to be rejigged at some point. Still, it's safe and warm and relatively dry in there so that's a start. Peter's garden shelter has been a fantastic thing during lockdown, and since we've been allowed visitors we've had plenty of them, and been able to keep them all outside (good job, given the state of the house). It's pretty robust, but it's not likely to last the winter, so we're thinking about how we could make something similar but more permanent for next year. As for the rest of the land, well my head spins when I try to think about it. I've been scything the hay meadow, half an hour at a time, and was hoping to get it finished in these two weeks I've had off work, but it's felt like it's rained all the time so I've got barely any done. Dry stone walls fall down every time I look at them, and there are various gaps that need fixing in the coming months. One cheerful thing that I don't think I've mentioned here is that I've been in touch with a few people, and it looks like we might be able to get someone to plant an area of woodland in a couple of our fields. This is extremely exciting (not least because we wouldn't have to pay for it, or do any of the planting). It's brought up lots of unsettling feelings about land management though, and whether I feel like I'm 'allowed' to make decisions about what we do here (I'd happily make decisions about a garden, so why does a field feel different?) Again, lots to think about, and plenty to do. Health and exercise This is a category I've always struggled with, and it will probably only get worse as I get older. I've got a proper sweet tooth, and have put on a good three stone in the last five or so years, which I'm not particularly happy about. I've done plenty of cycling lately, but I miss walking to work and wandering round the city which used to keep a background level of fitness which I no longer have. I've joined the Joe Wicks bandwagon and am enjoying cooking a bit more healthily so we'll see how that goes. Money Hmm, another category that makes my head spin. I've been looking back on old blog posts I've written about being thrifty, making things, saving money, and realising I've stopped doing a lot of things that I used to take for granted. I have mixed feelings about money. I've spent most of my life without much of it, and the last few years earning more than I feel I deserve (although very much in line with others in my profession). There are two interesting calculators that I might recommend you have a go of. This is the global average salary scale - apparently I earn over 350% of the global average. Then the UK Institute for Fiscal Studies has a tool to work out where, as a household, you fit in terms of average UK income - we are in the top 30%. This doesn't come as a surprise, of course. I'm not one of those people who feels 'poor' despite evidence to the contrary, and have spent enough of my life counting pennies to now count my blessings that I no longer have to. I do still have a rather thrifty gene though, and while I do spend on things that aren't necessary, I also begrudge spending on things I could easily make myself or find cheaper second hand. I suppose all this boils down to spending (and saving) in line with your values. So my house is full of charity shop finds rather than new clothes, mismatched bowls rather than matching kitchen appliances. We rarely eat in restaurants, or go to the pub, but we do spend a lot of time in our local cafe. And of course we've moved out to this ludicrous house (which we could only afford because of past thriftiness, an expensive 25 year mortgage, and because so much work needed doing to it), and now we're here we're doing much of the work ourselves. I don't really know what I'm waffling on about here. We have another 23 years left on this mortgage and to me, right now, that feels far too long. I'm hatching a plot to see where we can cut back on our current spendiness to see if we can get rid of the mortgage a few years earlier. Watch this space. Anyway, this has turned into rather more of a waffle than I'd intended, and I don't know whether I've got any further along in my thinking. But these are the things that have been whirling round in my head as I've been sitting here this afternoon, pondering what the rest of the year will bring, and how I want to spend my time. It looks like there'll be more DIY in my future at least, and probably less baking. We'll see.
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Hello!Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'm Jenni, and I write here about our new foray into country living, which includes growing food, knitting, baking, wandering around the fields, and seeing which local cafe serves the best cake. Categories
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