Of Poultry and People!

My harvest begins!

On Sunday I ate the first vegetables that I have grown, on my own plot, for many a long year and it felt great! The climbing French beans have really taken off and I have had several pickings that I have processed and put in the freezer, but Sunday was the first meal using them fresh. I also had my own Purple-sprouting Broccoli. I knew the provenance of everything else on my plate, thanks to my mate Mick and his 'no-dig' garden across the road, except for the chicken pieces, and they were free range and British, so it was all good stuff. I also have some impressive-looking onions that are almost ready for lifting and my first early potatoes (grown in a large pot) were also surprisingly productive – I planted three seed potatoes of a variety called 'Jazzy' and, although they were on the small side, the pot was crammed and the crop weighed in at nearly three pounds, which I didn't think was bad. I have three other varieties of container-grown spuds and look forward to harvesting them soon. My second planting of perpetual spinach seems to have outgrown whatever pest got it first time round – I don't think it was slugs or snails, perhaps birds?

The Araucanas

Talking of birds, things have moved on a bit in the poultry world here. After I wrote my last blog it became all too apparent that the French and English hens (the Marans and the Sussex) were racially prejudiced against the Araucanas (Peruvian) and were never going to let them integrate into the flock. Admittedly they did look a bit different, being smaller and with a tufted head, but I felt that beating them up whenever they dared to emerge was taking racial discrimination too far. Mary and I discussed the possibility of creating a separate poultry house and run just for the Araucans but, with no second-hand or recyclable materials to hand, it was going to be quite expensive and, in the end, I took the sensible course of action and asked Sally if I could return my little trio and swap them for a couple more of the Sussex hens.

Aubrey

At the same time as Buffy (the Buff Sussex) was taking out her vindictive nature on the poor Peruvians, I began to suspect that the Light Sussex 'hen' was in fact, a cockerel! He confirmed this on the morning that I was returning the Araucanas to Sally by crowing when he was standing right next to me! As I'd already become quite attached to him/her I decided to keep him as part of the new flock. Two days later I returned with another Light Sussex and a Brown Sussex and even from Day 1 it was noticeable that the other hens were far less aggressive towards them. Within a week the little flock was integrated enough for them all to be sleeping in the same house, although the two new birds tend to forage alone when they are all free-ranging.

Even though she is a Brown Sussex, the new hen glows red in the sunshine and has quickly acquired her name, Ruby. The new Light Sussex is called Elsie after my maternal grandmother who lived most of her life in Sussex and, of course, we already had 'Buffy' (Buff Sussex) and Mrs Speckles (Speckled Sussex). Neither of the Marans have yet been given names, but it will happen sooner or later. At a loss for a name for the Light Sussex Cockerel, I googled for 'Famous Men from Sussex'. A lot of the famous men from Sussex had very ordinary names but one stood out – Aubrey Beardsley – so the new cockerel is Aubrey – he can't draw as well as the original but I'm sure he'll turn out to be just as much a rebel, in his own way! As with most animals I find the chickens endlessly fascinating and entertaining and had to laugh when Elsie showed off her latest 'trick' – chasing off the cheeky sparrows that try to steal their corn! So far, she hasn't chased the jackdaws but as she is not much bigger than them at the moment she is probably biding her time and practising on the smaller thieves first!

Many years ago I gave an impromptu talk to my Women's Institute called 'Poultry keeping for the Uninitiated' (I found the scribbled notes only a few days ago). At the beginning of July I was invited to attend their celebration evening commemorating 100 years of the WI, where I met so many ladies that I haven't seen for five years. In the course of the evening's chat it turned out that several members still remembered this talk and also another one I did (usually when the booked speaker failed to turn up – luckily, a fairly rare occurrence!) about my sheep, entitled 'Baarbara, the Lost Sheep'. I was absolutely amazed that they could still remember them and with enjoyment, too, so perhaps I should give the brain cells a bit of a dust off and get on the WI Speaker circuit to talk about my travels around the UK!

Cake!

My baking for the Country Market is not going too well at the moment (I have now been to 5 markets) as I don't seem to sell a great deal but I do seem to keep buying plants, therefore spending the profits I haven't made! So far I have made cookies (can't call them biscuits as they then become liable for VAT, apparently!) scones, chelsea buns and bread rolls. The cookies can be made in advance but the scones and bread products really need to be baked on the day. As I have to be at the market by about 8.00am and it is twelve miles away, I am getting up at 5.30am to do the baking! I always said that I could make scones in my sleep...... and I can! I don't really have any high-value items to sell – the rhubarb and ginger pies that I made two weeks ago didn't sell at all and ended up in the freezer. They will get used by me eventually, but that's not the point of the exercise. I have realised that it is impossible to predict what will sell well at the market each week – usually we sell out of the savoury items quite quickly, but this week there was loads of stuff left but hardly any cakes. It is a good place to 'people watch' as there are some definite characters who come in regularly and overheard conversations are often amusing. Have you noticed how, when standing behind a table selling 'stuff' people stop seeing you, as they concentrate on the items for sale? I realise that I have been guilty of this over the years, so now try and make a point of smiling and saying 'Hello' to stall holders. Overheard this week - “I had some of that shortbread last week – it was too sweet, but I'll have some of that millionaire's shortbread”!! (In case you don't know – millionaire's shortbread is shortbread biscuit covered with caramel and then topped with melted chocolate) How I kept a straight face as I served her, I don't know.

My little 'S' hook

I did venture to the Glastonbury Country Market, which is held on a Tuesday in the Town Hall, as I had been told that they were desperate for bakers, too. The venue is much lighter and more spacious than the one at Somerton and the goods on offer are quite different. For a start there is a lot more in the way of craft items for sale – paintings, hand-felted pictures, wood-turning and a young lad who taught himself the basics of blacksmithing by watching videos on YouTube and has now landed a place at agricultural college to continue perfecting his new-found skill! I was so impressed that I bought a very pretty 'S' hook from him for not much money – give him a couple of years and I won't be able to afford his pieces! There was also a lady who was spinning and selling yarn and knitted products – I could do that at Somerton, perhaps. The food stall was also quite different in the range of products it had – a lot more vegetarian snacks and ready meals and not much in the way of cakes. I don't know whether that is because of the 'alternative' nature of Glastonbury or whether it is because they are very short of bakers – I may need to make further enquiries. It was certainly an interesting morning, made more so by the fact that the ordinary weekly market was taking place outside in the High Street and there were some very interesting people walking about. I do think that perhaps Glastonbury has become a parody of itself in recent years as no-one seems to dress 'normally' there and nearly all of the shops have a mystical theme, be it fairies, dragons, Native American or Pagan. Don't get me wrong, I still love going there but it can be a bit overwhelming.

As you can tell, I have got past my downward blip, for the moment, and am trying to feel more upbeat about my new lifestyle – as Jeni always says “It'll be fine!”.

A life more ordinary

It's been a strange couple of months since I last wrote a 'proper' blog and, during that time, I seem, inadvertently, to have settled down.

At the beginning of May I was approached, out of the blue, by my estate agents who had had an enquiry about buying my cottage. It wasn't on the market at the time but the guy had obviously noticed it when it was on the market very briefly in October last year and had made a note of the agent's name. He seemed like the ideal purchaser: in rented accommodation, so no nasty chain; able to wait the two months that it would take for me to give my tenant notice and; obviously, very keen on the cottage. We negotiated and eventually agreed a price and then he had a survey done. I can't fault the thoroughness of his surveyor but it was unfortunate that he chose to say that the roof needed renewing 'sooner rather than later'. (Admittedly, my surveyor twelve years ago had mentioned that the roof could do with renewing, but I chose to ignore his advice!) We tried to renegotiate the deal with me dropping the price by a further £4,500 to £10,000 less than the original asking price but I think the guy expected me to cough up for the entire cost of a new roof and I wasn't prepared to do that. In hindsight I should probably have done the deal and got shot of what I should rename 'Millstone Cottage', but I was feeling stubborn at the time!

Looking across the main lake

Mick, of the salad leaf business across the road, has been really good about giving me gardening contacts and, through him, I landed a temporary job as the lowliest gardener of the team that works for Sir Cameron Mackintosh at his estate in south Somerset. For two weeks I spent four days a week, eight hours a day, weeding in the most beautiful gardens in an idyllic spot. (They are reputed to be the best gardens in private hands in the UK) It was tough going, physically, and by the end of the two weeks my back ached, my hands ached and I was completely shattered but the gardens were so lovely that I would gladly have gone back for more, but I was only filling in for a lady who had broken her wrist and also to get the gardens looking tip top for a series of visits from private groups to raise funds for charity. I can only hope that, if they need help in the future, they will think of me and give me a ring. The Head Gardener was a young man who won Young Horticulturist of the Year 2013 and he was so enthusiastic and ran everywhere! He kept telling me that what I was doing was 'awesome' and I kept wanting to tell him that it was just weeding and any idiot could do it, but it was nice to be appreciated! I crawled about on my hands and knees in shrubberies and threaded my way between herbaceous perennials in the Birch Walk, I hand--weeded the gravel in the Lower and Upper Cloisters and along the driveway, and then spent one afternoon helping to barrow loads of shredded bark around the main lake to renew the pathways. By the end of that exercise I was definitely feeling my age, especially as the other people involved were all probably half my age!

Before weeding....

I have also picked up two other gardening jobs via Mick, both of which appear to be ongoing – one will, eventually, be monthly and the other is fortnightly. Because the first garden had got a little out of hand I have actually been there four times in the last month and each time she pays my invoice I think 'That's two more bottles of Calor Gas!' and squirrel it away for the cold, hard days of winter!!

... after weeding

Another new venture has been baking for the Somerton Country Market. These Country Markets used to be the old WI Markets and can be found in many towns and villages the length and breadth of the country. Each market has different members, who pay the princely sum of 5p to join, and they sell all sorts of goodies. For instance, the Somerton market has a woodworker who comes every week ( and another one who does woodturning and comes once a month), a handicraft table full of knitted, sewn and crocheted items, a very comprehensive plant stall, a bake stall -both savoury and sweet, fruit and veg, fresh meat and eggs and a table with a huge variety of jam, pickles, chutneys and preserves. If I hadn't had the amazing success selling baked goodies to the boat people on the Oxford Canal, I never would have had the confidence to give it a go and, after reading the 173 page manual of all the 'do's and don'ts', I did wonder if perhaps I had been a tad over ambitious! I have now been to three markets, so it is early days, and the jury is still out as to whether I continue in the long term or not. I tend to bake on Fridays as the market is on Saturday so, if you're ever passing on a Friday you might receive gifts of misshapen cookies or fruit cake that has sunk slightly!

Thinking ahead and anticipating a requirement for an ongoing supply of eggs, I bought some young hens from the lady that I farm sit for just outside Bristol. I have two Sussex hens (one Light and one Buff) and two Marans (one Copper Blue and one Cuckoo) and, when I went back a couple of weeks ago to do an overnight farm sit I came back with two Araucanas and an Araucana cockerel. Oh, and did I mention the two-year old Speckled Sussex that I got to be company for Mary's old rescue hen? They are great fun to watch as they are allowed to free range in the afternoons and have recently discovered the muck heap where they scratch about for ages, scoffing worms. I am anticipating some very tasty eggs by the end of the summer. The Speckled Sussex (Mrs Speckles) already lays an egg nearly every day. One day I thought she was looking rather unwell as she was only walking around for a little while and then lying down and looked generally uncomfortable. I only realised what the problem was when I opened the gate back into the yard where the hen house is and she lifted up her skirts and ran straight to her laying box – she was desperate to lay an egg and had been unable to get into the house! Needless to say, if she hasn't laid before she goes off free-ranging in the afternoon, I now make sure that the gate to the chicken house is left open.

The chooks!

When I first decided to slow down the WWOOFing and rent a property back in Somerset I envisaged having a couple of weeks at 'home' and a couple of weeks WWOOFing but, because I need to earn some money, I have had to take on some jobs and clients expect you to be available on a regular basis so, going away every couple of weeks is really not an option. I don't seem to be able to hit on a happy medium and have rejoined the 'real' world with a bit of a jolt! I suppose the ideal would be to do gardening jobs all summer to get some capital behind me and then WWOOF in the winter. However, there is one small snag to this plan – very few people need WWOOFers in the winter in the UK! Aha! I hear you all cry – WWOOF abroad in the winter then, but I really don't think I have the courage to try that, so here I am, stuck in a muddle of my own making with more responsibilities than I wanted and no obvious way out.

Sadly, one of the other drawbacks to this more settled lifestyle is that I no longer feel that I have anything interesting to write about and my blogs will become fewer and further apart until they dry up completely! Sorry, everyone, I'm finding life a wee bit challenging at the moment – hopefully I will bounce back soon.