19.02.2023 Wall to wall sunshine.

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 Sunday 19th 1C/33F. Light frost, promise of sunshine. Up at 7.00. I can feel my back from yesterday's patio demolition. A walk should fix that. Old farts aren't supposed to swing sledge hammers and picks for hours. Most professionals use a mini-excavator for digging the tiniest off holes these days. So I doubt many young people can manage a hard day's work any more. 

 Having spent man years excavating impenetrable ground I must have retained some physical memory of fitness. Our derelict cottage in Wales was buried up to the eaves when we bought it. Or rather, it had been built into a hillside in the space available. There were sheep on the roof when we went for the viewing. 

 I excavated over 15m x 4m x 2-3m depth in an ancient glacial moraine. Where every single teaspoonful had to be picked, shoveled and wheelbarrowed at least 30m away. There were rocks up to half the size of a car. I moved them all using a length of narrow gauge rail and steel scaffolding poles as my levers. 

 I went on to scythe a 20 acre field full of thistles. Before removing all the surface rocks. Using only a wheelbarrow. All of them trundled across the rough field. To raise the level of a marsh adjoining our rural garden. Where I was eventually able to make a level lawn. The marsh was raised enough to plant hundreds of trees. I also dug several large ponds in pure clay festooned with reeds. All using only a pick, shovel and a wheelbarrow. 

 I wore out several builder's shovels, a pick and numerous builder's wheelbarrows. We could not afford to hire an excavator and driver. I started digging when I was 40 years old. It took me several years in all. We also rebuilt the cottage in the meantime. Retaining only the field stone walls. Which were up to meter thick. The great mass of stones above the cavernous inglenook fireplace was held up by an ancient, bog oak. Still with its bark and full of knots. A visitor claimed it was originally a medieval pub on the ford.

 9.30 Back from my walk in bright sunshine. Under an almost cloudless sky. There was some soft cloud bunching low in the east. I climbed the hill above the lanes to view the distant sea. Only a little haze. Watched my first singing skylark of the year. Rising from a roughly ploughed field. It does not bode well once the crop sewing gets underway. I have seen skylarks for several days now but none of them were singing. There were several fieldfares in a hedge. Though they soon left. They are always nervous in their behaviour. Rarely staying in one place for long.

 10.00 I think I will ride to the village to do some shopping. There is only a light, south-westerly breeze.

 12.30 5C/41F. Clear skies and bright sunshine. Just back from an 11 mile ride to the shops. The GripGrab gloves were fine today. I meandered along the lanes. Rather than taking my usual hilly route. I have restocked with chicken and vegetables to practice my Sunday dinner cooking. All the internal doors have been opened to let the 21C/70F greenhouse warm the house.

 13.15 Lunch is over as fluffy clouds begin to cross my view. 

 21.00 Sunday dinner was almost perfect. I gave the chicken pieces 40 minutes at 150C. They were already brown and beginning to crisp on the outside. I had boiled the potatoes and then added half of them to the chicken tray. The 20 minutes in the oven was not enough to brown or crisp them. They were little different to the boiled potatoes. 

 The rest was fine. 20 minutes boiling for the sprouts and carrots in the same pan. The peas less than ten minutes added later to the same pan. The gravy need not have been so thick. I used two heaped spoons of Bisto in 1.5 small glass cups of water. Next time I shall make two full cups with the same amount of Bisto.

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