Only a short note today as we continue to be battered by the storms. Storm Dennis has not shown himself any milder than Storm Ciara who blew through last week. Though Dennis’s winds might be a little weaker he has brought a great deal more flooding in his wake. Although his wind speeds might be slightly less, his effect, on top of a week of heavy rain and sodden ground and pre-existing damage following Ciara, is proving to be fairly widespread.
When I go outside, when there is a lull in the noise of the wind or the rain, all I can hear is the whine of chainsaws. I don’t have to walk more than a few hundred yards to see the telltale sawdust of where someone has cut and tidied a fallen tree to keep the roads open.The fallen trees have brought many fences down, hence sheep, liberated from their fields, are often our company as we walk around the circuit.
I thought possibly Storm Dennis had put paid to the old adage “It’s an ill wind that blows nobody any good“, surely, I thought, there is no-one who has benefited from this. This must indeed be an ill wind. But then I remembered the ducks. The wind damage had caused a break in the banks of the stream above the duck house. This coupled with the high volume of water had lead to the formation of a pool across the path into the duck yard. This appeared to the ducks like a purpose built en suite, they didn’t even have to walk down to the river to perform their ablutions. Though my wet feet made me curse the damage they, on the other hand, were perfectly happy with the new arrangement, “it’s an ill wind etc etc ..“
The grandchildren visited this week. They came down from Scotland for a weeks mini-break during the school’s half-term. Their visits are the high point of our social calendar and something to which we really look forward. One ‘side-effect’ from these visits is that they make me feel my age. If you want to feel old then spend four days with a 7 and 9 year old. Halfway through you will remember what it was like when you had kids of your own and shortly afterwards you will wonder how you ever managed. Looking after kids is a young person’s game.
Their visit coincided with the visit of Storm Ciara to Wales. We had days of gale force winds and torrential rain followed by the light relief of a day of snow when we built a snowman. This gave us the opportunity to go for walks to see the results of the power of the wind, to see the uprooted and torn trees and the destroyed outbuildings. When we were able to go outside we were able to occupy the children by getting them to help us re-roof the turkey house and repair the fences around the hen runs. They really enjoyed this as they got to use real tools like a hammer and a staple gun. This was a better way to entertain the children; free, educational, and useful providing them with skills for the future and without all the noise and cost of the activity parks and play centres we often used.
We were, for long periods, unable to go outside but, sticking with a theme, we kept our spirits up by teaching new skills. The kids are aware that in Taid’s house, ‘taid’ is Welsh for grandfather, the fire and cooker don’t come on by flicking a switch. Here you need to set a fire and light it and there are different approaches for the open fire and the Rayburn.The kids really enjoyed setting a fire; making tinder out of newspapers, collecting and arranging kindling, getting logs ready and finally striking a match to start it all off. I also hope that now they know the true meaning of the word ‘tinder’ and this might inoculate them against the future definitions from their smartphones. However, there was a feeling that their grandparents were not only ‘old’ but almost ‘historical’ like something you might see on a visit to a heritage centre!
In the evenings the education was much more two-way. They taught me games I still don’t fully understand, on the Nintendo Switch and with Pokemon cards, and for the first few nights they chose the films we would watch. Two of these were surprisingly enjoyable. “Early Man” and “Abominable” were good fun tales on the themes of friendship and loss and well worth watching. The less said about “Teen Titans Go”, “Steven Universe” or “The Thundermans” the better. However, it was when I chose a film that I felt extremely old and began to see some of the differences in the culture my grandchildren inhabit and mine.
I chose “The Incredible Journey” having recollections that I enjoyed this film when I was their age. As we started watching, for the first quarter of an hour, it was clear this this was not holding their attention. There were no effects, no action, and not even any talking animals and I noticed that the kids were giving as much time to the screens on their laps as to the television itself. They thought they were much wiser than I was at their age, they knew that the animals would not die “they never do in films”. I forbore from telling them the fate of Bambi’s mother or that of “Old Yeller” . As the film progressed they decided that it must be all CGI as animals “can’t act”. They refused to consider that they may be real animals handled by wranglers. I guess that the rabbit, that Luath chased, might have hoped that the kids were right and he had had a CGI stand-in stunt rabbit. However, once they started to believe that these were actual dogs and a cat they started to be more interested in their actions.It seems you have to think something is real before you will truly care for it.
By halfway through the kids had been captured by the story. Having seen the bird and rabbit eaten they now knew that sometimes animals don’t make it through. They had started to worry about the trio of animals fate, and they started to think perhaps they wouldn’t get home. By the end they were on tenterhooks and when the last of the trio, Bodger, came over the hill in the final scene there were gasps of relief and joy.
Chatting afterwards about the film it was clear that the themes of friendship, loyalty and perseverance had been taken on board. It was touch and go at the start and if I hadn’t insisted I don’t think they would have persevered with the film. A good story, wonderful photography and landscapes and good acting seem no longer enough for a film to succeed with an audience of children. Like our food, our books, our music and so much of our culture we now need high intensity, easily digestible pap. This does not bode well for our future.
Next time they arrive, and it is my turn to choose, it will be “Old Yeller” we will watch. The simple tale of the love of a boy and his dog will be perfect. I hope that I’ll be able to avoid crying at the end. I’ll be rather depressed, disappointed and worried if, however, the kids don’t cry.
I feel rather like the early bird who has caught the worm. Last month I had noticed that out chickens were behaving strangely. Or rather more strangely than usual. In early January, and still in deep winter in anybody’s book, they had started laying heavily. They were supplying eggs much faster than we could use them and clearly though that the spring had arrived. They had started to create clutches and shown signs of going broody. This was an easy mistake for them to make as we had very mild temperatures and nothing really wintry at all.
This posed a dilemma. I had to decide in January whether I should put some of these eggs into the incubator for hatching. However, although I knew the hens thought spring had sprung I did not know if the cockerels had been infused with the vernal spirit and had sprung into action. If not, if the cockerels had correctly thought “This is still winter”, then I might be trying to hatch a clutch of unfertilised eggs. Not anticipating any miracle I decided to put a batch on and see what happened.
I needn’t have worried. The chickens determine the mating it seems. Cockerels don’t give a fig what time of year it is and they’ll happily mate all year round as the progeny above confirm. This is another unsettling sign that our seasons and are changing. It is not without consequence as I now have chickens born while the ground outside is better suited to building snowmen than scratching for food. I’ll need to rear these chicks indoors under a lamp for a considerable period before I can let them out. Let us hope they prosper despite the inopportune timing of their entry to the smallholding