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Author: stephen

Mad Morag and the Perils of Livestock Auctions

Mad Morag and the Perils of Livestock Auctions

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It’s been an awfully long time since I wrote. While I wish I could say I’d been doing something terribly exciting, like leading an expedition to chart a lost underground world inhabited by Flumps. Or perhaps had been kidnapped and forced to slowly eat my way through nine hundred pounds of cinder toffee in order to save the world from an alien race intent on crippling the planet with overwhelming dental costs. Unfortunately, no. I’ve just been really really busy…

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Hasselhoff and the Chicken Conservatory

Hasselhoff and the Chicken Conservatory

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It being New Years Eve today, naturally the missus and I decided to spend some quality time with the chickens. These ladies have been popping out eggs all year and with the weather turning Canadian-nasty over the last couple of weeks, they’ve been packed in tighter than Germans at a Hasslehoff concert. We’ve been employing the deep litter technique for their bedding which sounds like Middlesbrough Council’s approach to inner-city street cleaning but is in fact a bona-fide approach for keeping…

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Big Jo And The Aisle of Doom

Big Jo And The Aisle of Doom

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For the past month, I’ve been trying my best to get everything ready for winter. I’m not exactly sure what that really means in the country, but I’m pretty sure something important needs to be done. Back in the suburbs it was taking down the mosquito screens, tidying up the garden a bit and getting the furnace checked. Out here, I’ve got a gargantuan pile of uncut wood stacked accusingly beside the house which despite my fervent expectation, hasn’t been…

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Filthy Lucre and the Lost Art of Chicken Herding

Filthy Lucre and the Lost Art of Chicken Herding

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For as long as I can remember, I’ve liked money. To be more specific, I’ve liked being given money. Now of course, everyone likes being handed cash. Unless you’re Richard Pryor in Brewster’s Millions, there aren’t many people who would say “oh no, I’ve actually been trying to get rid of a stack of fifties for bloody days. Can’t seem to give it away, mate. Pray keep your money, for I need it not.”   Unfortunately, I’ve done some fairly embarrassing…

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Bringing Home The Bacon

Bringing Home The Bacon

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Historically September is a month in which you can be assured of several of life’s certainties. There’s the drop in temperatures and the first misty mornings; an increase in commuter traffic which accompanies the new school year. Jumpers and coats get dug out from the back of the closet where inexplicably they managed to mate and produce random unpaired gloves. And of course there’s the inevitable disappointment of being a Boro fan which kicks in after a brief few weeks…

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Ten For That, You Must Be Mad!

Ten For That, You Must Be Mad!

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It’s a deal, it’s a steal…it’s the Sale of the fucking Century! A whole side of pork for how much? That’s bloody amazing, I’d like to buy ten. No, shit, make it a round twenty and I’ll throw a party in your name. That’s pretty much the reaction I want when offering our pork, chicken, eggs and honey for sale. And if you’re lucky enough to be invited to buy some, then I expect you to be forever grateful to…

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The Queen Is Dead

The Queen Is Dead

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If you’ve been keeping up, you’ll know that I’m an aspiring bee-keeper. Back in the spring we took possession of two hives of fantastic bees, lovingly fed them sugar syrup, assembled and painted bright new hives and generally gave them a bloody marvellous home. Then something sinister happened: one of my beautiful hives transformed into the Mean Machine. I’m not talking about Burt Reynolds in tight pants, but an aggressive Beta Colony of agro bees intent on stinging any poor fool…

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Night Sounds and Belgian Brood

Night Sounds and Belgian Brood

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All you north american readers probably won’t believe this, but the night sounds of crickets, frogs and neekerbreekers, night birds and other buzzy insects isn’t one you hear at night in England. It just way too damp and besides, the countryside and its creatures have long since learnt to hush up or risk being shot by a nobleman or built on. Consequently, the deafening noise of Canada at night constantly takes me by surprise. At best as a kid I…

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Dig For Victory

Dig For Victory

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In the annals of history, there have been many famous battles, many celebrated victors. Few indeed were as grimly fought as on the fields of Fernwood Farm, nor their heroes so unsung. On this weekend beneath a slate grey sky, one man stood alone and said “No! You Shall Not Grow!” to the rising tide of weeds. One man saved the strawberry plants and rescued the onions from the inexorable onslaught of untamed wilderness. One man stepped forward to answer…

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Battles, Beetles and the Stones

Battles, Beetles and the Stones

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June has been rather frantic. As well as stressing about my fantastic hives of bees, my weekends and evenings have been all about the veg. When I planted a 180′ row of potatoes with my Dad back in May, I wasn’t really thinking ahead. For example, I wasn’t thinking about how each row has two sides, so that would be 360′ of potato row to hill up. Twice. Nor did I consider that come the fall, I’ll have 180′ of…

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