' My overiding thought, that saddened me greatly, was that dinner was orf '.

At times and especially in the evenings it is so tranquil sitting on the patio whilst allowing my eyes to feast on the picture before me. A lush grass green lawn speckled with tiny white daisies and bordered by a myriad of different coloured Primula. The evening sun adding a touch of drama by spot lighting, as if it were a Super Trouper, the sweet statue of a small girl reading a book whilst sat on a tree stump.

All around the only noise that can be heard is that of song birds whilst Goldfinches, Great Tits, Robins, Dunnocks, Blue Tits, Green Finches and even Sparrows tussle over the bird feeders. Amongst the Chaffinches picking up fallen seed on the sunlit lawn are a pair of Pied Wagtails. They have been visiting us every day for at least the last two weeks and I assume that they are nesting nearby but as yet I have not discovered where. Above me every now and then there is the sound of wood being chiseled. It is not a carpenter but rather a somewhat smaller creature, a Blue Tit who has taken to building a nest in our sparrow lodge. Why I do not know for it clearly says in large letters "Sparrow Lodge" and it has holes designed for Sparrows and also it is an apartment block consisting of 5 flats. Sadly however the Sparrows show no interest and prefer to live in the eves of the main house instead. There is only one other sound which bubbles over our high garden flint walls, cascading like a waterfall the continual bleating of lambs in an adjacent field.

Spring has definitely sprung as all and sundry are plying their wares in an effort to find a mate. Down the allotment in my pond (sounds grand but it is only 3' wide and surrounded by weeds) there are at least 20 frisky frogs and they're either doin' the business or just playing leap frog.... very sloooowwly.

Back in the garden the cat is sitting on the edge of the patio table intently watching one of our Pied Wagtails. Peck, wag, peck, wag, nasty infliction that.... peck, wag as it wanders behind some daffodils then like a shot and in just 2 seconds Scribble (the cat) was around the blind side of the daffodils and just a claws reach from the Wagtail before it's instinctive wag launched it into the air and off over the flint cottage garden wall. Immediately the gardens karma returns and the foiled Scribble returns back to sit by my feet. The sun dropped out of sight and the daisies all shut their petals for the night and peace ensued.

This tranquility can be disturbed, not least by myself in cutting all those tiles, how many was it now?
However I think my wife wins the disturbance of the year a few weeks back, when she set fire to our dinner which was being 'cold smoked' in our smoker in the garden.

For those of you who have not been making an effort to keep up with the blog (may the fleas of a thousand camel's infest your armpits) you will need to flick back to the blog of Wednesday 20th of March 2013. Here you will read how we bought a cardboard box for use as a 'cold smoker' and yes I probably tempted fate when I joked that....

 "Firstly for cold smoking..... a cardboard box! Sounds daft as there is no smoke without fire and with fire there is good reason to think that after a while there would be no box."

Well the idea of starting a small fire in a cardboard box does sound bonkers but all we do is light a Tealight  in a nifty little gadget, remove the Tealight when the sawdust in the gadget smoulders and then insert the unit into the base of the box where it slowly smoulders away causing the oak sawdust to smoke.


Well this is what the cardboard box should look like......

And after a few minutes this is what the box looked like.....

And a few minutes more ......

Unfortunately  a fundamental principle of this is the removal of the Tealight which a certain person that a husband is too honorable to mention by name forgot to do. Within minutes the box had caught light, I valiantly tried to rescue the Duck breast within (our dinner) but all I managed to get was a couple of burns to my fingers. I went to get a bucket of water but as I filled it in the kitchen sink I looked through the window out to the smouldering box which suddenly escalated to an inferno.

' My overiding thought that saddened me greatly was that dinner was orf '.

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