Wednesday 23 November 2022
I now realise why people who have multi-fuel burners/stoves/fireplaces are keen to talk about them. There are seemingly endless issues to overcome and tips to share. Our burner needs to be generating enough heat to power the radiators via a back boiler. At the recommendation of the previous owner, we are using some kind of smokeless, slow-burning ovals (I have no idea; we just ordered what they suggested). When the previous owners left the fire burning ahead of our moving in, the fire was glowing and flickering like a Christmas card hearth scene and the radiators were hot. Since that fire died down, even though we have kept it topped up, the radiators haven’t been warmer than “not icy cold” ever since. I am officially obsessed with the burner and our inability to get enough of a fire going to warm up the house. I am determined not to go on about this issue when friends in London and/or without fires ask how things are going. It does, however, seem to be a fairly constant topic of conversation and consternation between Chris and I.
Other than fire and coal-related issues (and, believe me, these are more far-reaching than just generating enough heat), things are largely going well. We are still unpacking and sorting and both trying to work a bit around that. We finally met our next-door neighbour, who seems a really good person to have as a neighbour. I had a very short walk along the road and river and was ludicrously excited to see some strange fungi. I duly took some photos to start my fungi identification hobby. Somehow, I didn’t take the photo. I would return to the same area but I discovered, having committed to that particular path, that it’s boggy. I went in ankle deep in what looked to me like a delightfully soft, dry, springy area of ground. Hey ho. Maybe I should first concentrate on bog and sinking-ground identification.
For the first time, Chris and I walked all around the land we now have. I say ‘all around’ like it’s a Balmoral-esque estate; some of it is down steep banks that are probably best left well alone and it is ‘only’ two-and-a-half acres. I did, however, identify an excellent toboggan run for when it snows. It has ski slope virtually painted all over it. It also seems to end with a slow, sweeping curve and onto a flat area of lawn. What could possibly go wrong with the addition of a thick covering of snow?! It is a revelation for Chris and I to have land (there is a definite distinction between garden and not-garden, so ‘land’ seems appropriate). There isn’t much we can do with it other than put seating in certain areas to appreciate the amazing scenery. But there is something a bit special about walking across rough, squidgy land, the kind you’d walk across on a countryside walk, and realising that it is part of your property.
However, from speaking to the neighbour, our lack of knowledge and understanding of country living is very apparent. We told him we’d like to clear a piece of land opposite the back door and grow a few vegetables. We talked about the fact there is a lot of stone on the soil, beneath tall weeds, and we said that maybe we could get someone to rotavate it for us. He then told us that he had a [piece of equipment I didn’t understand]. Chris and I both stopped and stared at him. We would have no idea what to do with any kind of equipment. I swear I saw a flash of panic on his face, realising we are the kind of people who could easily dig through the complex underground, improvised cables, for routers, electricity, water, telephone … I’m thinking about changing the blog title to What Could Possibly Go Wrong? as that is a recurring question I keep asking myself.