New Kid On The Block

 I thought Alan Pheasant was looking a bit spruce and sexy when he visited the other day - turns out, though, that it wasn’t Alan at all, but a fresh young pheasant whippersnapper. I know this because I saw the pair of them perambulating the middle garden on Saturday, Alan leading the way and clearly showing the new kid the way things are done in his garden. Of course, the new chap needs a name. I have called him Beau, after Brummell, the gadabout, madabout cock about town. He is a very handsome chap indeed. Here he is, in a dodgy iPad photo. If you look carefully to the left of the photo you’ll see a woodpecker on a bird feeder, too. Mrs Rusty Duck will be pleased to know that, following her information, I have identified it as a lady woodpecker, and the other one who visits is a juvenile as yet undecided. 

The laundry roof is completed! We are very pleased with the job; it has somehow made the whole building feel stronger and more secure, not to mention smartened up the view from the landing window…

Also, it is very neat and tidy which brings me great joy as I am a neat and tidy sort of person. However, it has drawn my attention to the increasingly shabby and wonky courtyard area…

….so that is next on my radar to be smartened up. 

By ‘smartened up’ I mean ‘completely renovated.’ I am home alone this week as His Lordship Malarkey spends time in Lancashire dealing with the things that need to be dealt with following the death of his father. Therefore, I have extra time to fill, and the distraction of project ‘Design a New Courtyard’ has proved irresistible. Andy asked me if I would be okay on my own. I said that if I wasn’t I’d panic buy a German Shepherd dog for protection, given Bambino’s lack of attack and kill skills. Andy said perhaps I could find a vicious rabbit instead, given the hunt for an Edith companion still continues. 

Anyway, renovations! The steps that lead up to the middle garden are slip sliding all over the place, what Health and Safety might call a ‘trip hazard.’ In fact, I saw one of the hens do a comedy trip up them the other day. At least I hope it was a comedy trip and I don’t start receiving litigious letters through the post from ‘Cackle, Comb and Strut - Chicken Solicitors’. The edging of the single step down towards the back door is also coming loose in places. I imagine one could easily break an ankle if one trod on the wrong bit. 

The paving itself is a cobbled together approximation of the 1970s trend for ‘crazy paving’. It was installed by some previous owners who were rubbish at DIY, oooh, 15 or 20 years ago at least, so was out of date before it even started. Every year I have to grub about on my hands and knees at least three or four times during the Spring and Summer with a sharp scraping tool to keep the stones weed -free. Whilst this is very satisfying, turning a weedy patio into a weed-free patio, it’s an increasing faff as the buttercups, oxalis, moss, dandelions etc etc take evermore persistent hold. A new patio would dispense with this job immediately. 

There are a couple of beds to the front, one of which contains thyme and oregano, the other of which contains violets and weeds. The bed against the side of the laundry contains lemon balm. The circular bed in the centre contains a rampant bay tree and a couple of straggly lavenders. The area next to the slippy steps by the oil tank houses another straggly lavender, some variety of furry mint, and a honeysuckle that sometimes puts on a decent show, but sometimes sulks and doesn’t. The trellis that held it up expired a couple of months ago. 

I rather fancy to turn the whole area into the apothecary herb garden that’s been in my thoughts since last Summer. Smart, symmetrical beds, or pots, or a mix of the two. The bed to the back of the area is going to be filled with bulbs and perennials so there will be a constant display of flowers. The oil tank will need screening off…and oh so many other ideas! I can just see me wafting about my apothecary courtyard in a pair of baggy dungarees and floppy hat, a wicker basket hooked over one arm, herb snippers in hand. Butterflies and bees aplenty. And other bitey insects…

…which brings me to my February insect attack. The collection of bites got very much worse over three days, to the point where I couldn’t turn my neck and shoulder very well, and I went all drowsy on the heady cocktail of anti-histamine, paracetamol, self-healing sessions and lashings of TCP. And yesterday afternoon, just as I was thinking I might have to go to the GP for a steroid prescription, the swelling began to abate. Phew! And this morning, the largest bite on my neck had subsided enough to show two substantial bite marks of a fang variety. 

Therefore, I conclude I was not subject to a bastard vampire mosquito attack as I previously thought, but a bastard vampire spider attack! Probably some rare form of venomous arachnid that arrived in the laundry via a rogue sack of cat litter or hen feed, and chose to make an unprovoked attack on my person. The swellings around the bites continue to subside and I now need apply only a couple of doses a day of ‘TeeCeePee Pour Femme’ just to be on the safe side. The bites hurt if I press them, but, as my Mum would say, ‘Well, don’t press them then.’