17/04/2010 by andy.

If you live in the UK, or anywhere in much of northern Europe for that matter, chances are you’re enjoying a fine and unusually quiet morning today. The reason for this is the closure of your airspace to civilian air traffic, leaving the sky empty for the first time since KLM commenced operations in 1920. Thanks to an Icelandic volcano, we have our first glimpse of a world without air travel.

Under the flightpath at Heathrow, householders are finding out what it’s like to be able to leave windows open; in Manchester, one anxious lady complained to local radio that she’s had to leave her radio on loud because the quiet is scaring her; and in many supermarkets the shelves are already emptying of perishable items as supplies of airfreighted food dry up. Since 95% of us shop at supermarkets*, it’s the last one that should really scare you. If you’re one of the people who scoffed at Lord Cameron’s ‘nine meals from anarchy’ observation in 2007, it may be time to think again.

Predictions about how long the ash cloud will last vary, and media coverage still seems to be concentrating on the poor souls whose holidays are being disrupted, but it’s worthwhile reflecting that the last eruption at Eyjafjallajokull lasted for two years (1821-1823). What would it mean for Europe if chunks of airspace had to be closed every time the wind blew from the north for a few days?

To paraphrase Ralph Waldo Emerson, going green is a journey, not a destination. If your own journey has not yet included growing some of your own food, or at least starting to eat seasonally, then this might be a good time to consider it.

*Source: UK Food Standards Agency, 2001

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01/04/2010 by andy.

… I think.

So! More than a year of work comes to a close - the second book is finished. It’s been retitled - it’s now How to Grow Food in your Polytunnel, which is hardly going to tempt the Booker, methinks (although at least it won’t attract the attention of the bods who give out the Diagram Prize). I don’t mind, really - I think the title and cover of non-fiction books are really the territory of publishers and marketing folks, and just try not to get in their way much. They know their job, I’m sure.

I’m a bit shell-shocked tonight, since the actual writing of the book has taken two months, including two weeks of round-the-clock slog at the end, which seems to be an inevitable consequence of collaboration. Or maybe it’s just me being pants, who knows?

I took Witchypoo and the Sons out for dinner last night to celebrate the End Of The Book, and then had to come back and work to midnight to actually finish it (the 31st was the deadline and we got it in 20 minutes before midnight) - but I have a bit more time for other things now. I’ll get a book review up in the next few days which I’ve been feeling guilty about for a while, and then I’m going to do some things that I’ve not had much time for lately like playing with children, watching TV and sleeping.

Oh, and working in the polytunnel. Even that’s been neglected…

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19/01/2009 by andy.

Dealing with rodents in the home is part and parcel of life. Way back when Ceres first popped a handful of grains into her satchel</a>, there was a mouse watching her from the shadows and thinking ‘A-ha.’* Ever since then, mice and rats have kept us company everywhere we’ve gone (except perhaps to Marks and Spencers, where they don’t encourage that sort of thing).

You might think that having a cat would put a stop to rodent problems forever, but I’m afraid you’d be wrong. Infestations do tend to be very short when there’s a decent moggie around, but they also tend to be rather more frequent as they have a habit of catching mice outside and bringing them in for a bit of a chat and a spot of tea. And then losing them. Witness Number Two Cat sitting on the upstairs landing last week, looking a bit perplexed.

What was I doing again? his expression said. I’m sure I was doing something a minute ago. Was I looking for something? …oh, never mind. It’ll be teatime in a minute.

On Friday morning, Number Two Son pointed out a superficial wound on his big toe, in tones that implied it was somehow my fault (for some reason it always seems to be my fault). I cleaned said toe and advised him to stop running around in bare feet, for the child is a hobbit. It then transpired that the poorly toe had woken him up, and that he had seen a mouse in his room.**

I checked, and sure enough there were signs of recent mousy activity; the draw-string for his blinds (nylon, inedible) had been nibbled on and there were spots of mouse juice on nearby surfaces. The most notable casualty of the incursion though was that large patches of skin had been chewed off N2S’s half-finished model dragon. The skin was a synthetic clay; clearly this was a pretty desperate mouse. I set a trap with a tiny bit of chocolate in it, and waited for the crack. It generally takes around 20 minutes.

But nothing happened. Odd, thought I. Perhaps mouse is sleeping.

Twelve hours later and with still nary a mouse in the trap, it was time for Number Two Son to go to bed. He was a bit wary about going to sleep with a potential mouse in the room, and I was jollying him along trying not to make a big deal about it - until I swept the duvet off his bed to give it a good shake.

Ah. Mouse is dead, in bed, mafia-style. All becomes clear - the wretched thing must have crept into N2S’s bed for purposes unknown, got rolled on, and bitten his toe as a last gesture of defiance. It’s not the first time mice have bitten back either - so moggies, beware!

*And unknown to the mouse, a cat was watching it and thinking ‘O-ho.’

**Behold the homesteading child, who sees a mouse in his room and waits until morning to alert a grown-up; a similar incident when I was his age resulted in me declaring a state of national emergency, causing my father to come upstairs armed with a shovel, and with trousers tucked into his socks, while our large and highly-trained guard dog hid under the kitchen table until someone told him it was safe to come out.

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16/12/2008 by admin.

…click here

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