About a Metre

Regular readers of Stately Moans will be aware that Lovely Warden is very good at making things, just as long as they happen to be things that are very big and made of wood.

I have written of the enormous table, the giant bird hide, the mighty mallet and more.

Talking to Lovely Warden in my office one day I happened to ask him how big his current woodworking project would be when completed.

"About a metre," he replied, stretching his arms wide, like Jesus on the cross, to demonstrate.

"That's not a metre," said McColleague, shrewdly assessing the extensive span of his outstretched arms.

"Yeah, it is," he affirmed. "This is the way I was taught to measure a metre."

"When?"

"When I was a boy. I was taught that the width of your arms - like this - is a metre."

"When you were a boy."

"Yes."

There was a pause while we all digested the significance of this and understanding dawned as to why Lovely Warden's creations are all so massive.

Fair Comment

We have a new design for our comments cards.

One side is aimed at adults, the other for children. The children's side is colourful and asks questions such as "what did you enjoy the most today?" ("the baby lambs!"), "what did you enjoy the least?" ("sheep poo") and "what did you discover?" ("nofing").

Reading the children's cards is always entertaining. My all time favourite has to be the one I retrived from the box after our wildlife day. Lovely Warden runs this event and takes the children on a nature walk as well as making bird boxes and bird feeders with them. It is a fun afternoon of romping through the woods, getting to play with a hammer and drill and, as if all that wasn't enough excitement, then rolling a pine cone in lardy dough and birdseed.

You can only imagine my delight at discovering the following gem under the "what did you enjoy the most today?" heading:

"I liked going round the house, making a bird box and Lovely Warden's fat balls."

Pre Season Pressure (Washing)

We open the doors to the public very soon. The weeks before re-opening are always a manic time of trying to get all your essential repairs and building works completed with no staff and no budget but this year has been even more frantic than usual.

To condense many months of ongoing drama and angst in certain quarters the end result was my Boss and our volunteer shop manager resigning simultaneously and not entirely unexpectedly at the end of the pre season volunteer meeting just a couple of weeks ago.

To compound matters the volunteer shop manager also provides most of the stock. Since she was leaving she decided to take all her wares with her, leaving me with some dusty bare shelves and the pricing gun.

So, in addition to the usual long list of requirements before opening (re-lettering and replacing the signs, interviewing and hiring seasonal staff, unpacking the many boxes of 2009 literature and recruiting materials in the ticket office, updating the handbook, proofing a myriad of advertising, agreeing budgets, and so on) McColleague and I have also had to become impromptu shop managers. We have been scavenging every stock and store room in our quest for merchandise. There was great excitement when we unearthed an entire box of out of date crisps - that's lunch sorted for the next month!

Normally we make great use of the wardens in our pre season preparations, as they are so helpful when you need to move heavy oak furniture or shift an ice cream freezer. This year, however, we are effectively down to just one. Luckily that one is Lovely Warden but he is over-burdened and we try not to add to his workload if we can avoid it. Hence my decision to pressure wash the courtyard myself.

In the shady areas a treacherous green algae proliferates, making the surface incredibly slippery when wet. I donned protective clothing - wellies, cropped trousers and a mac - plugged in the pressure washer and did my bit for health and safety. It's a fearsome beast the pressure washer. It removes algae and dirt effortlessly and blasts them safely onto my face and body in a thick coating of filth. Effective at removing years of mud, it is equally good at removing huge chunks of cement and gravel from the courtyard surface itself, and you can't get cleaner than that.

After many, many hours I had completed cleaning maybe a third of the courtyard. I was caked in goo and my trigger hand was still vibrating for hours after I finished. The rubble and silt I had created had blocked the drains and the muddy water refused to drain away.
"I tried to save you a job," I explained, as Lovely Warden unblocked the drains and shovelled the mud and rubble into a wheelbarrow. "Would you like some out of date crisps?"

Lambing

I walk with Z every day. At the moment it is particularly beneficial as I am suffering from a protracted bout of sciatica and the best thing to do is keep active. The only problem is I am not overly good at bending at the moment, or climbing over fences to rescue stray lambs.

The lamb was running up and down the fence, bleating piteously, unable to get back into the field where its mother was unconcernedly munching grass.

"You climb over," I said to my daughter, who fortuitously happened to be with me, "and I'll stay here and hold the dog. Grab the lamb, and just chuck it over the fence."

Could there be a simpler plan?

Or a harder one to actualise?

Mind you, I did get a lot of amusement from watching my daughter chasing the lamb up and down the fenceline. She even caught it at one point but it wriggled so violently she had to let it go again. "There's no way I'm going to get it over the fence," she panted.

I took my phone from my pocket and dialled.

"Hello? Lovely Warden? Are you nearby?"

Lovely Warden is good at chasing sheep. He is speedy and strong. If there were a One Man and His Lovely Warden competition, he'd be a contender.

"No worries," he assured me, "I'll be there shortly."

And he was. He stepped into the arena and eyed his target. It was all over in a blur of wool and tanned legs.

Lovely Warden 1, Lost Lamb 0

I might let the cows out on my next walk, just to see how he does with larger prey.

Top Table

As regular readers may be aware, I have long had logistical problems with the volunteers sharing my office for their lunch and tea breaks. This year sees a major milestone achieved as the long-awaited New Volunteer Room is finally completed. Yea, and there was much rejoicing.

So, the room is complete. The finishing touches are not. McColleague and I are poised with all the little extras that make a volunteer/staff room so appealing. We have all the usual tea making paraphernalia along with a noticeboard, a clock, a comfy chair, some nice pictures for the wall and so on. The one thing we didn't have was a table. Not to worry though. Lovely Warden was making one."Now before I show it to you," said Lovely Warden, about to open the door of the warden's shed to display his handiwork, "the correct response is 'that's a beautiful table'".

McColleague and I nodded dutifully as he looked at us, then exchanged meaningful glances as he turned away.

As expected it was very large and made of wood.

"That's never going to get through the door!" exclaimed McColleague.

"It's very big," I said. "Oh, and beautiful, " I added, hastily.

"It'll be fine," said Lovely Warden. "I'll bring it down tomorrow, on the trailer. I can't fit it in my van."

As predicted, it was too big to fit through the door. The top of the table had to be removed and reassembled once inside.

It takes up quite a lot of the room. It is so big that McColleague was able to wax and buff it usuing the electric floor polisher we use in the house. Lovely Warden is unrepentent. He says it is such a lovely table he wants it to be the focal point of the room. And it is.

Mighty Mallet

This is Lovely Warden's latest creation. McColleague and I discovered it in the bird hide. It is a massive, hand crafted wooden mallet. I do not know why Lovely Warden has made it and am reluctant to ask (it takes all the fun out of guessing, for a start).

Is it for giant games of croquet? Dealing with the squirrels who steal the nuts meant for the birds? What uses can there be for a giant wooden mallet in a bird hide?

Natural Materials

McColleague needed an implement with which to apply the floor polish so that it went on in a smooth, thin layer.

Lovely Warden suggested a paint roller.

"But it will knacker my back, having to kneel down to use that," she protested.

"I'll make a handle for it," he countered.

McColleague showed me the finished product today.

"Other properties get proper high tech conservation equipment," she said. "I get a big stick affixed to a paint roller."

"What did you expect from Lovely Warden?"

I was reminded of a classic Lovely Warden moment the week before. McColleague and I had been with him in the landrover, as we zipped about the estate making final preparations for our festive events. "I just need to get some more diesel," he announced as we pulled into the forestry yard. The storage tank is equipped with a meter and readings are to be noted before and after fuel is taken. Lovely Warden rummaged fruitlessly in the landrover for a pen and paper. There were bug collecting jars, magnifying glasses, CDs, chainsaws, rope, toolboxes, batteries, torches - everything imaginable, other than pens or paper.

In the end he found a small, flattish piece of wood and scratched the meter readings into it with a nail. "You are such a warden," I told him.

Hide

"Have you seen Lovely Warden's bird hide yet?" asked McColleague.

"No. What's it like?"

"Well, it's big.....and made of wood."

This came as no surprise. Lovely Warden is very good at making anything you need, as long as you need it to be big and made of wood. The Wizard's Staff we commissioned him to make as one of our Halloween props must have been 8 feet tall. He did cut a bit off the bottom at our request, but you'd still need to be a 7 foot tall wizard to wield it properly. The bicycle racks he created could stop a tank. "Sturdy" and "robust" and "that's somewhat bigger than I imagined it would be" are the words that spring to mind when you witness one of Lovely Warden's creations.

The bird hide in question is part of the new nature walk that is being created over the closed winter months. "Do you want to come and look at it?" asked McColleague.

So I donned my welly boots and set off with McColleague into the woods.

"There," she pointed, as we reached a clearing. "Behold, the Bird Hide!"

"It's a bit bigger than I expected," I said.


"Yes," agreed McColleague. "When I'm inside it I can only just see out of the window so he'll need to build some kind of step for kids to stand on."

It is a good height for me, though. We went inside and waited for the birds to appear. Lovely Warden has nailed many of his handmade bird boxes to the surrounding trees and crafted mighty, monolithic bird feeders and tables to install in the clearing. If you wait, patiently, quietly, in his bird hide you may be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the man himself, putting out food for the birds, to lure them to his avian Eden.

I've Come All the Way From...

I was telling McColleague and Lovely Warden of my experiences with the visitors who had tried to blag a freebie the other week. We were standing on the lawn in front of the house, at the end of a long day. It was not an open day, but we had all been involved in the Pledger and Benefactor event.

"Then there are those who turn up on closed days and always claim to have come all the way from Australia or something." I was saying. "They have always travelled an unfeasible distance and this is the only time they can see the house, as they have to fly home in the morning, and their visit won't be complete without seeing the place. Which is why they've left it until 5pm on a closed day to turn up, as it's so very important to them."

I paused for breath, momentarily distracted.

A car was approaching along the drive. The gates must have been left open after our Pledgers and Benefactors had departed for the day.

Lovely Warden strode off to intercept them. The car drew to a halt alongside him, and the window rolled down.

I didn't hear the first part of the exchange, but as I drew nearer I had to try hard not to laugh.

"New Zealand?" said Lovely Warden. "No, sorry, that's not quite far enough. Now, if you'd said Australia we'd have let you in, but New Zealand...."

Fortunately he said it with such twinkly-eyed good humour no offence was taken. I will definitely be using that line again though.

The Wonky Sign

I could see my Boss and Lovely Warden in the distance, working by the newly erected kiosk. I braked to a gentle stop beside them and wound down the window.

"We're just putting up the new sign," explained my Boss, somewhat redundantly, given the massive red board he was holding.

I squinted at it and tried tilting my head, first to one side, then the other. No, whichever way you looked at it, the wording wasn't level.

"What do you think?" he asked.

"Um....I'm just proof-reading it...."

"Well I took the prices off your sheet," he said, testily.

I didn't have the heart to break the news that the myriad price options, while correct, were all wonky.

"I'm sure it'll be fine when it's finished," I smiled. "I'd best get back down to the house."

McColleague was awaiting my return. She had a surplus of duck eggs to be eaten up, so I had volunteered to buy bread and cress while on my trip to town, and make eggy sandwiches for everyone on my return. We stood in my kitchen, shelling the hard-boiled duck eggs. "I saw the Boss at the top," I said. "He's made the sign."

"Is it bad?"

"Yes, it's really wonky. Plus there's a big bubble in the paintwork he kept trying to smooth out with his thumb. And you could see where he's gone wrong earlier and peeled some letters off and then stuck others on top, so it all looks blurry."

McColleague nodded. We both expected as much.

As it was such a glorious day we took our plate of eggy sandwiches to the bench by the moat, to while away our lunch break. We heard a car approaching down the drive and looked up.

"Here he comes," I said.

"Must have given up on the signs."

The Boss stopped his car when he drew level with our bench. Out he stepped, fingers automatically reaching for his baccy and papers, rolling a fag on autopilot, as he always does when he goes from inside to outside.

"I really should wear my glasses more often," he announced. "Bloody sign was fine while I was working on it, but when I stepped back it was all wonky."

McColleague and I glanced at each other, then quickly away again.

"Was it?"

"Yes. And I buggered up some of the letters too. Had to order new ones now."

He looked quite downcast. "I thought I could maybe saw a bit off the sign, to level it out, but no joy."

"Have an eggy sandwich," I suggested, brandishing the plate his way. He brightened up a bit at this and joined us on the bench.

We munched thoughtfully together. We heard the sound of the Gator approaching. Lovely Warden drove up behind our bench, with an off-road kind of flourish.

"Sign's all wonky," said the Boss.

"Did you try sawing some off the bottom?" asked Lovely Warden.

"No, it's too wonky for that."

"Eggy sandwich?" I offered the plate to Lovely Warden.

We all sat and chewed for a while.

"I'll knock something up on the computer for now," I said.

Top Tiptastic

Today I learnt something new and useful.

The Elizabethan chest in the Screens Passage had an unsightly, white watermark on it, where a wicked, bad, naughty volunteer had stood a cup of hot tea, instead of using the coaster on the desk, a mere 6 inches distant.

"Do you think there's a way we can restore that?" I asked McColleague.

"Funnily enough, " she replied, excitedly, "I was watching a telly programme the other night about furniture restoration, and this woman said if you rub it with a Brazil nut it'll remove the watermark."

Well, if some woman on the telly said it'd work, that's good enough for me.

"OK," I said, "but I've only got hazelnuts."

"Ooh, I bet Lovely Warden will have some in his lunchbox!"

Lovely Warden is a vegetarian and brings lunches the squirrels would kill for.

Sure enough, he did have Brazil nuts in his box. "That's my favourite nut, too, " he said, wistfully, as he handed them over.

We gathered around the chest in great anticipation as McColleague set to work, rubbing the Brazil nut over the mark. Wow. I mean, seriously, wow. It really worked. The watermark had completely gone.

I began to laugh.

"What?"

"I'm sorry," I managed. "It's just that when people ask about this I'm going to have to say we got great results when we rubbed Lovely Warden's nuts on our chest."

And now I have, and I am happy.

Lost Cat

My cat is missing. He is a home loving little fella, so when he failed to reappear after going outside on Sunday evening I began to feel concerned.

Given our location – the middle of a huge expanse of mixed woodland, parkland and farmland – it was unlikely traffic had finished him off. Or that he’d been catnapped. I had to assume he was on some sort of adventure, which, it turns out, he was.

When this morning came and he still wasn’t home I began the task of making those depressing “Missing Cat” posters, ringing the vets, and – dramatic drum roll – mobilising the estate to look for him! Yes, I have the power to do that, as I am a Very Important Person. And they were probably tired of hearing me go on about the cat.

So, I had a final wander around, making those little pursed-lip squeaky noises that we believe entices felines, and rattling food pouches, before miserably concluding there was nothing more for me to do and leaving for a day off. (A day off! Hooray! I had organised cover, and everything!)

Fast forward a number of hours, to me standing in Woolworths attempting to pay for my motley selection of Halloween items (all essential work related kit) and my mobile phone rings. It is my esteemed colleague.

“At last! I’ve been trying and trying to get hold of you! We’ve had drama!”

“What? What’s happened?” (There is always a panicky moment when I am convinced that it’s true, they really can’t manage without me, and the house has detonated or something in my absence).

“We’ve found your cat!”

This is a good thing. Yet I can tell there’s more.

“Oh, fantastic! Where was he?”

“Up a tree.”

“Ah.”

“Yes, quite a long way up. Lovely Warden tried to get him down for hours, but the cat just kept climbing higher and higher.”

“Oh no”.

“Yeah, so in the end, the cat was right at the top, and there was nothing for it but to cut down the tree.”

“What?!”

“Don’t worry! The cat leapt clear and sprinted off into the woods before the tree hit the deck, so he must be OK.”

“Right. Yes. Great! Thanks!”

Oh my god. They cut down an enormous Douglas Fir just to get my cat down! Seems a bit, well, drastic. I feel churlish even thinking it, but maybe a small bowl of kitty treats somewhere near the tree might have been another option.

Anyway, the cat has yet to reappear in the homestead. I fear he may have been so traumatised he has gone straight up another tree. Massive deforestation may occur as a result.