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Some Things We Can Do...

The media do not peddle news. They sell negative emotions to feed 'Pain Bodies'.
Here's a List taken from Simon Dale's website about the things we can do to enact positive change.

Some things we can do...


  • Avoid buying newly manufactured things, instead buy second hand or make our own.
  • Avoid large chain stores and supermarkets.
  • Buy things from small and local businesses.
  • Favour worker cooperatives over corporations.
  • Wherever possible buy direct from producers.
  • Support local currencies.
  • Trade or give gifts in preference to using money.


  • Smile at people and meet their eyes.
  • Give open-minded/hearted time to those people around us.
  • Organise parties and celebrations (eg. a dinner party where everyone brings a homemade dish or a childrens party where each parent organises a game)
  • Organise rotating work parties and skill-sharing events.
  • Vision together the future of our communities and make it happen by a combination of negotiations with local councils and direct action. (If you think that unused roadside could make a good veg garden then get some friends together and just go ahead and do it)

Food And Land

  • Propagate and plant edible perennial plants wherever possible on any available land.
  • Learn how to grow food and save seeds.
  • Set up personal and community food growing.
  • Stick to seasonal, local and organic foods.
  • Eat meat in moderation.
  • Have a go at making bread, preserving food, making cheese, brewing etc..
  • Enjoy cooking and eating good food. Treat our food with reverence.
  • Learn what wild plants grow in our areas and learn how to use them for food and medicine.
  • Protect and encourage biodiversity and wild areas (eg. a small wild patch at the bottom of your garden could be a haven for birds and small animals).
  • Make a pond.


  • Use wood (biomass) for heating. Install wood burners. Take firewood from the waste stream and plant local or personal firewood supplies. In a climate like Britain's, short rotation coppice crops such as willow can be fully productive in 3 years and a 30 x 50m area can heat an efficient family house.
  • Heat water with wood and solar energy. (A solar water heater can easily be made from scrap materials in a day or two.)
  • Use renewable electricity. Switch mains connections to suppliers who only deal in renewable energy.
  • Set up and use local or personal energy production systems. Small scale hydroelectric systems in particular offer simply maintained systems with high and reliable returns for the amount of invested energy.
  • Practice basic woodwork, metalwork etc to make and repair basic items and tools.
  • Compost food and human waste to build soil fertility and reduce energy demands of waste disposal.


  • Withdraw investment from houses. Move to a cheaper home or make our own (most cheaply done without permission).
  • Work less.
  • This will free up time and energy to develop sustainable ways of living as well as removing support from destructive systems.
  • Do not take employment from organisations which are unsustainable or whos actions are not benefiting the world.
  • Maximise our autonomy from state and corporate control structures.
  • Move from urban to rural areas and start working some land.


  • Consider what elements of our world and society are of greatest value to us (air, water, food supplies, medicines...?)
  • Consider what elements /service / products we could happily do without (war, this year's fashion, more DVDs, a bigger car...?)
  • Be aware that the more we have of the latter, the more we threaten the former.
  • Whenever we spend money or play an active role in society, take time to consider the consequences of our actions. (Buying a tank of fuel supports the violent occupation of the middle east, buying cheap clothes supports sweatshops and child labour, buying from transnational corporations funds the extraction of capital from poorer countries and the erosion of human rights)
  • Consider our modern world from the point of view of our ancesters.
  • Count our blessings.
  • Appreciate the beauty and fragility of life, human and otherwise.
  • Make time to appreciate and congratulate ourselves - we are all amazing and powerful beings.
  • Smile, laugh, love and dream. Be present and don't worry.

The Voice From The Ether...


Yup, I'm still here and the story goes on. But its time to end the black out to bring you guys upto speed on things.

First off an apology and explanation for the sudden neglection of the blog. This is down to two reasons. 1) A slip on the totem of priority and 2) the evident inability of my phone's mobile internet connection to upload the corresponding photographs. A consequence of this is that I require landline broadband and have thus far failed to bring with me my diary whenever I'm presented with the opportunity to log on. Like, now... So, sorry for that.

I do intend to post the missing entries but, I'd like to fast forward to the final entry I made in my diary before things got busy and ironically, very interesting. I don't mean to ruin things for you I only wish to sum up where I stand at this present now and why 'blogging' has become of lower significance to me when it is about documenting my physical life's events. The murder of the family pet cat, Eira, by a Human Being on the night of Thursday the 27th October was an excellent opportunity to observe my ego and all its urges to lash out, seek enemies, exact retribution. Instead I was the witnessing presence. I don't wish to sound 'saintly' but it was very easy to let go. To not react in the manner of the 'old' conciousness. To not be suckered in. We lacked proof, but the evidence was powerful enough for us to know almost by intuition 'whodunnit'. We went directly to them and had our answer. It changed nothing. Our cat is still dead. Her existence ended by enforced drowning in mere inches of water in the very same mill pond that had witnessed the demise of so many other beings. The feeling that it was most likely that Kit's wife Saara had executed her will upon the cat we named Eira changed nothing. It also was not solely the reason we ended our arrangement of volunteering for them and left Lammas (Tir-Y-Gafel) some three/four weeks later.
This non-reaction and non-identification enabled me to continue my interactions with Kit and Saara without anger, bitterness or hurt. I admit it still lurked and irked somewhat in the dark recesses where the pain body and ego still dwell, but I observed those emotions/thought forms, I did not react to them.

I forgive Kit and Saara both unreservedly. I am, and always will be, very grateful indeed to them for their part in my experiences and the facilitation of them. Had I grabbed my air rifle and shot dead their cat Gwyn, I would have perpetuated the same insane behaviour that plagues mankind presently upon this Earth. How in hell can ending the life of another, innocent, unknowing being bring justice or revenge except through the insane delusion that that being is the perpetrator or somehow was in alliance with the perpetrator. Or even that justice lies in inflicting the same injury upon the injurer, disregarding that the one that would really pay the price is faultless. The ego is cunning like that. By mere association, my mind attempted to convince me that their cats death (Eira's Sister) would make things 'fair' or 'right'.  What rubbish. Death plus Death will never equal Life. I could be ashamed to admit to those thoughts, I am not, for they are not mine, they are born of the ego.

It was almost poetic when viewed from a distance. That the cat named Eira was born at Tir-Y-Gafel, and just over a year later she died there after producing a litter of three, one kitten was an almost exact replica of her. The kitten who seemed most attached to her, despite being homed and living over 200 miles away, died shortly after his mother. Emma speculates he simply wished to follow his beloved mother to that which waits for us all.

Eira; Born 10th October 2010, Died 27th October 2011. She was a cat who walked by herself... Into a man's tent in the middle of the night, one too many times and paid the ultimate price. Her life had been verbally threatened 2 days prior. How many of us know of a cat that will heed warnings or one that ever understood the human concept of 'Private Property'?

I do intend to periodically utilise this medium for communicating to those who will listen, but the structure of how I do so will take on a different form.

I have begun, and am toying with finishing, writing a book entitled "Coping With Mine and Society's Dysfunction". In this book I intend to relate my observations and draw out into the open not only some of the issues I have witnessed at Tir-Y-Gafel (collective human coexistence in the micro) but also experiences before and after as well as inside and outside 'me'. There is little 'out there' that does not occur in me. Often the most infuriating or upsetting aspects of the 'out there' is often the very same tendency or aspect that I dislike inside 'me' or rather the mind I use. Just a germ of a concept...

Here is the final entry in my diary, should you wish to read it before its chronological place;

05/10/11 Wednesday

Our 'Indian Summer' is at an end. Normality, if that is what it is, seems to have returned.
Friday, Simon and Jasmine took us with them to Picton Castle where an event was being held in the gardens. The theme was light. Interestingly to me, my pleasure came not from the man made attractions. Primarily it was being with Simon and Jasmine and my family and the change of scenery, and once there, the magnificent trees and horticulture, most notably a 300 year old Cedar tree. From its trunk extended sucker like branches that grew outward a distance, just beyond the canopy, and turned skyward.
My favourite of these was one that resembled an elephants head and trunk.
I grant you that its been one week to the day since my last entry. I am finding it increasingly difficult to breakdown my life into newsworthy events. My life just is. What arises, passes. The fact that yesterday, I and others collected algae bloom from the millpond along with its brown trout victims, does not particularly change nor matter much. It is a tit bit of limited interest to another. Collectively, the entries may give my children an idea of who I was and what I was thinking, but that is of little significance to who I am. To me, each day is now a new life. Each night that previous existence fades and serves no role in the present. A death.
The photographs are images, a form of forms, it, like the other forms, will fade and whither into past. Unless one derives identity from these and other forms, their capture and/or demise are of no consequence.
I once thought it mattered to record and to remember the past. I once believed it important to be able to communicate my activities to others. It is not. Not, for me, anymore. These records are and have been entertaining. A distraction from the present.
For those who read this because they want to follow my path, to learn the secrets of how I changed my life, I have not answers, but important questions for you.
It was not particularly useful for me to ask "Where do I want to live/be?" But rather "Where am I happy to die?" I believe the latter of the two evokes much stronger imagery in the minds eye than the former. Also; "If not now, then when? If not here, then where?

"These roses under my Window make no reference to former roses or to better ones; they are for what they are; they exist with God today. There is no time to them...But man postpones or remembers; he does not live in the present, but with reverted eye laments the past, or, heedless of the riches that surround him, stands on tiptoe to foresee the future. He cannot be happy and strong until he too lives with nature in the present, above time" - Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self Reliance.

M Jones


Apologies to all for the lack of posts of late. Life has been most interesting with a huge shift of circumstances following recent events.
Details to follow, watch this space...
Much Love.

Midnight Mantras - Saturday 17/09/11

My sleep was interrupted last night in a most disconcerting manner. As my consciousness and awareness ascended from the depths of dreams and broke the surface into the present, I heard a clear and distressed voice that sounded remarkably like my mothers. It emitted, seemingly from the end of the bed, the word "Help". I sent a text message to my mother asking if she was ok, the time stamp said 03:05.
As yet at 14:51, I have had no response.

I think I have stumbled upon a philosophy. It can be summed up in these words;
First, Do what you need to,
Second, Do what you want to,
NEVER, Do what you have to.

And explained thus;

We need to eat,
We want to do alot,
We do not have to do anything.

Like all philosophies, this is open to interpretation and requires thought to properly understand.

If I imagine the scenario of a flood, one could argue you have to move to higher ground. I say no you do not. What I believe this analogy does is highlight when a want can be transformed in to a perceived need. If, in this instance, you want remain dry and do not want to risk drowning, then you might need to move to higher ground/ board a boat. But I maintain that you do not have to.

A more common, and less dramatic, parallel can be drawn with rent/mortgage of a home. One could argue you have to pay the figure asked if you want to stay living there. Lets make the presumption that for whatever reason, your survival and future existence depends upon your continued habitation of said property. I argue you still do not need to pay anyone any money. Generally, people do not want to pay anyone money...
Your landlord cannot control you anymore than any other being. You may fear his threats and future actions, but this does not change anything. This scenario wouldn't exist if he also were an advocate of this philosophy. Indeed, your occupation is evidence of his lack of need.

As yet, when these presupposed situations are boiled down to their most basic and rudimentary levels, I can find not one that fatally rebukes this idea. Until one presents itself, I shall endeavour to adopt this mantra until it is no longer of service.

M Jones

My Spit And Solicitors - Friday 16/09/11

I am very pleased with my DIY Sparger. Due to rain, I dedicated this as a brewing day. My 'spit malting' seems to have been successful, the proof will no doubt be in the pint.
For a while, I struggled with separating the saliva soaked barley flour from the wort, until I found inspiration in Dave Lines' "How To Brew Beers Like Those You Buy". I knew of various methods employed that would perform the task, but a picture in this book set my cogs turning. The result, 1 x muslin cloth courtesy of baby, 1 x surplus bucket, baler twine and my siphon tube.

The DIY Sparger.
With the mush slowly filtering, Frances and I jogged upto Simon and Jasmines with a rain cloud on the bombing run right on our heels. We made it just in time. When the grey squadron had passed I pruned some yarrow and heeded back home. Perplexingly, Frances elected to remain behind and help Jasmine tidy her son Cosmo's room!
She was gone all day too!

A letter arrived regarding the leisure centre from a solicitor. It was scribed upon council headed paper. This so called solicitor said "I am of the opinion..." - No Dice buster. My reply outlined that whilst outside opinions are ordinarily valuable, in this instance non was requested nor required. It wasn't even signed on behalf of the council or anyone for that matter. So, in reality, I received some random chaps two cents. Now, the council have had notice served upon them that they owe us in excess of £254,000. Thats money in the bank if they continue to use the same solicitor...
I grow weary of this debt based legal stuff. If they would only respect our rights. Apologise for their breaches of trust and contract. Why do we need to convert our issues into figures of currency before we're taken seriously?
Stop putting us in a box you can tick. Humanity, life, love cannot be boxed and ticked.

M Jones

Cheesed Off - Thursday 15/09/11

And then there were none. With my friend Lukes arrival and departure, the last of the kittens was homed.
Emma's Mum left Wednesday morning, drawing to an end a period of mobility and commerce. My day today started with a sting. A wasp sting between the fore and middle finger. Nick showed me a sting he was dealt yesterday evening on his inside leg. Whilst the swelling of mine has disappeared, his has gotten angrier and redder from his allergy to them. Wasps are the real terrorists!

In my quest for a home brewed beer made completely from scratch, I sat and munched on nearly half a kilo of coarsely ground barley flour that I milled yesterday evening. The idea was to 'spit malt' 1.6kg utilising the amylase enzyme present in saliva. I couldn't tolerate sitting there mixing that much flour in my mouth. Allegedly, there is enough ptaylin in Human saliva to only need to chew two thirds of the grain. Hopefully my spit is superhuman!

I accompanied Frances to her swimming lesson to ensure all went smoothly. This time the children were taken straight to the changing rooms by Jasmine whilst I swiped them in. Again, I was told Frances was not able to swim without a photo being taken. I listened and left, knowing that what they were saying was irrelevant as she was swimming. But not for long. Whilst I went and bought cheese, they ejected Frances from her lesson. She was left to shiver in the changing rooms until Jasmine came to collect them. My plan had been to supervise the lesson to ensure such a scenario did not occur. Cheese evidently put pay to that.
I'm upset for my daughters treatment, but I am aware that they are now liable to pay us compensation of £250,000 due to the breach of trust and £2000 per incidence of breach of contract. Including refund of the swimming lesson fee plus three times the principal (standard lawful compensation) their bill now stands at £254,111.00. I had written to them last week informing them of their contractual obligations and provided a fee schedule of penalties they would incur... The Debt Collectors will not doubt be sure to chase that commission! Trample on the people's rights and expect to pay for the privilege.

The Sun has now set an hour earlier than it was. Canada geese were spotted yesterday evening scouting out ponds and lakes. The swallows are hanging on. I wonder for how long.

A Roundhouse Nearby Progressing Well.
M Jones

A 9/11 Heatherist - Sunday 11/09/11

Happy Terrorism Day!

We've been subjected to high winds and rain over the past couple of days, yet despite the severe weather warning, the Sun broke through this morning and provided a warm and pleasant day.
Emma's Mums arrival yesterday has again brought with it the ability of transport.
Yesterday we took a trip to Carmarthen for a resupply and today I wished to gather heather from the Presellis. I only collected a quarter of what I need beside the road at a viewpoint as emma & co felt too cold just as we approached the heather on the mountainside.
We are on storm watch still, may as well stay scared of everything else too.
Just to be safe.

The "Too Cold Turning Back" Shot

So Close...

M Jones

The Factory Drones - Friday 09/09/11

During a lull in this period of wind and rain, we sowed some wheat. As John Seymour says "Sow wheat in mud, Barley in dust".
Later in the day I received a telephone call from the manager of the local leisure centre. We have an ongoing discussion "photographic records". They wish to photograph Frances and hold it 'on the system'. Frances was registered with them on the condition that this would not be required and the deal was done. Now they wish to change the terms.
In the evening, I went to the Lammas sub committee meeting of Tir-Y-Gafel residents. I went as it was still a Lammas meeting and I am a shareholder. As a shareholder, I wish to witness and oversee the company's progress.
AGAIN, the agenda was infiltrated by Lammas business i.e loans.
Ayres, shortly after my arrival, sought clarification that my presence was authorised and accepted by the group. This upset me only when it came to light that this loan proposal included a condition that, upon default, the company would stand to lose a portion of the woodland. That would reduce my share... I, to my mind, therefore had every right to attend. As it transpired the loan was temporarily rejected in order to seek one based on more acceptable terms. A short grumble about volunteers voting at meetings followed. Melissa verbalised her indignation that a temporary resident could have a say and influence "her life". "Her life" is rather inaccurate of her to say. The knock on could very well be that, but it is more like your employer reducing your lunch break on a vote helped by that of an intern. Sure it may affect your 'life' at work but not your private life. The company cannot and should not hold that power.
What I imagine I see is a scenario as I shall describe;

There is a factory. The factory consists of drones. One day, the drones say "we don't want to work 24/7, we want one of those 'private life' things. So at company meetings the drones discuss (at length) how they will create and action the 'separate private life'. They resolve to, and are permitted to, meet in the staff room before walking out of the door to the big wide world. This way, they can prepare themselves. They believe. But some of the drones are confused. They think the staff room is the outside world and part of this 'private' life thing. When a director walks in to watch the drones and oversee their progress, they get upset. So programmed are the drones, that for the most part, they continue discussing 'work'. Their meeting is hijacked by the news of the company's fiscal flow report. The drones' circuit boards too easily flicking out of 'private' mode, seemingly without the drones' awareness it has happened.
The director is concerned. He supported the idea in order to gain a happy, rested, contented and productive workforce, but the drones appear incapable of handling more than one role, and nearly resolve to jeopardise the assests of his and their company (let's assume the factory is a co-operative kinda thing).
The director is, to a large degree, also a drone. Yet he possesses the cognitive power to walk out of the factory door and is able to identify what issues pertain to what and which of his roles.
He is an outside drone. A hybrid. Potentially the most qualified to assist, yet deemed incredible and often shunned for not being a full, real drone. His position and potential is seldom, if not ever, recognised and his role is often mistaken.
So the director waits quietly. He continues to attend the staff room meetings in the hope the drones show signs of learning, of evolving and to assist when he is called upon to do so.

Are you a drone dreaming of 'freedom'? Are you a 'Director'?
Or are you human?

Kittens, Kingdoms n Crime - Tuesday 06/09/11

It would seem I dwell in the presence of a heroic kitten. A couple of days ago, a particularly evil wasp menaced our caravan. So demonic was its wing beat that even I was having second thoughts about ejecting Beelzebub's agent. So I called upon the services of our lodgers. It was time to earn their keep.
All three I gathered up and placed them on the windowsill to observe which, if any, would do battle with the Satanic insect. After careful assessment and obvious deliberation, the boys let the girl do the dirty work. Up she stepped to the mark.
She batted with her left, downing and disorientating the demon, this she repeated until finally she dealt the killer blow and bit it. An instant after, she soared a metre up into, and across, the room from her perch emitting a squeak of confusion and pain as she did.
She came to a halt in the kitchen shivering in shock with a large stinger embedded in her top lip. A bowl of heroes milk was brought forward, and as I held her head still, Emma extracted the offending weapon. The guts and entrails of its former owner still attached. Banished to Hell from whence it came, Lucifer's minion reports his defeat at the paws of a two month old kitten. As she supped her fill from the saucer of victory, I fended off her interloper brothers as the cowards attempted to rob her of her glory. After the kitten of Achilles retired, her mother materialised and finished her daughters prize. She, the cats mother (literally), unaccounted for when most required of course.

Inbetween my observations of the animal kingdom, I have been the vessel of many musings of late.
I have often said to those who will listen, that here at Lammas I have witnessed the birth of government. It has been this experience that has highlighted an elephant in the room.

I am a shareholder of Lammas. As one, I am entitled to, and in ownership of, a percentile share of the company 'stock'. I also have the right to vote in meetings, and elect a board of 'Directors'. All very normal in the business world... Anyone else see the parallels to our 'normal' lives yet?
As evidence of my ownership/title, upon purchase of my 'share', I was issued a certificate. From this title/certificate flow all other rights. I am also in possession of a very similar certificate. A 'birth' certificate.
Contrary to the teachings of Robert Menard and Mary Croft, I do not believe this certificate represents a 'bond' or contract or has an attached secret bank account. I believe it evidences my percentile ownership or 'interest' in the Corporation known as the United Kingdom. It is my 'share'. Shares have many roles and purposes and I would advise readers to research the history of that creation and origin.
Essentially, I believe, a shareholder expects a good return. Sadly with the amount of shareholders, and with their numbers increasing, your percentile share is decreasing each minute (the reported birth rate), therefore, it is likely to payout very little when you redeem it. Your 'pension' or dividend.
Lets move to the vote, as I understand it, despite many attempts to deny them, prisoners retain the right to vote. Of course they do. They are shareholders, albeit naughty ones.
So, at the 'AGM', or rather 'GM', when we are given the opportunity to vote, we are in fact voting to elect a glorified board of Directors. Directors without the accountability and responsibility of a conventional Director.
Here's a twist. All shares can be traded. This trade of shares spawned the 'stock' exchange. That being so, I want to cash out. I am a savvy 'investor' (vested-in) and I know that the debt the corporation I am a shareholder in is insurmountable and unrepayable. A sinking ship. Would you knowingly invest in a bankrupt company being artificially kept afloat in spite of extensive asset stripping etc?
I am sincerely considering offering for sale on a prominent auction website, my 'share' (birth) certificate, and all its ascribed 'benefits'. That could include, my passport and drivers license as well as bank accounts. After all they are assets of my 'person'. All it would require is an updated photograph of the new owner to create joinder. Do you remember when you first applied for a passport? What did your neighbour have to write on the back of the photo?
"I certify this photograph to be a true likeness of..." A legal statement that need only be repeated.

No fraud. No Forgeries. No 'crime'. Just business.
UK citizenship anyone?

Mulching The Orchard

The Wheat People Babies!

M Jones

The Lamentations Of A Corn Child - Friday 02/09/11

The Lamentations Of A Corn Child

There's a Monster in my valley,
There's much snarling and gnashing of teeth,
This Monster does not sleep.

It's eyes are brighter than fire,
Piercing clouds as they tear the night,
and shred the sky.

Slain are all who stand before Him,
He cares not what they are, not animal,
nor vegetable.

This beast stands high and mighty,
He dwarfs the tallest man,
Yet he slides upon his belly.

The perfect storm has, and must be, brewed 
to summon out this devil,
As terrible as He is,
The Earth yearns to bear a scar.

For years now has this Demon visited this our blessed land,
But it was not always so,
When we harvested by hand.

Today, I celebrate the 9,490th time I have witnessed the Sun set over this, my Earth. 9,490 times I have died as the day has died yet been resurrected as the cock has crowed.
If the Fates will weave it, I will see another 9,490 more. Tonight I die, Tomorrow I may rise.

Kitten All Dressed Up

M Jones

Prometheus' Piles - Thursday 31/08/11

Yesterday, in accordance with Kit's wishes, I processed two large trugs of junk wood from the Promethean pile.
Nick returned, very pleased indeed to be back. His trip to Belgium to watch the Grand Prix reportedly and understandably left feeling out of place and reaffirmed his choice of lifestyle.
As I emerged from my hole this morning I sauntered over to Nicks patch to have a chat. His new purchase, a Tarpon 130T Canoe, was prepped and ready for an outing. The weather was perfect, clear and warm. A great day for fishing and a trip to the beach.

Nigel and Cassie had the same idea. Frances was most upset that they couldn't fit her in their car. We tried to arrange borrowing a car, but none was available. Instead, Paul offered Frances the opportunity to join them for a swim. On the condition she was accompanied.
I had hoped to begin scything, but I was not about to pass on the chance of a good clean.

We returned around 13:30 and after a couple of sandwiches and a coffee, I began work.
The scythe just wasn't cutting it. In every manner. I think my technique remains. I sharpened the blade thoroughly. I think the grass, a stouter, shorter variety than those in the field, was not suited to the Austrian blade. I appeared to be cutting some and folding over the rest.
Time to break out Kits new lawn mower. I regretted doing so. Loud, heavy, cumbersome and horribly brutal and destructive. This machine was a Flymo, definitely not designed for my purpose. That said, I didn't like the finish it left on the short grass. I much prefer the effect of the push mower.
I moved the focus of my endeavours to the orchard. I fared better there but the result is not the manicured look required. I'm definitely not happy luggin that infernal petrol contraption up there.

At 17:00 with one row done in the orchard, I returned the scythe and sharpening stone to their respective owners.
Following my late night last night, I feel satisfactorily spent. That good days work feeling.
The Promethean Pile

M Jones

Out Of Touch and Out Of Sorts - Tuesday 30/08/11

I have been feeling 'out of sorts' recently. My walk to Crymych, all 8 miles of it, highlighted that I am also out of touch. It was a bank holiday so I was unable to engage in commerce, the purpose behind my endeavour. I was not disappointed. The walk served me well. Forays into nature often help to ground my spirit.
This morning I set off again. Business was as usual. I frequently lost myself in thought. Awakening at various points and aware of how quickly I seemed to progress whilst not conscious and present.
How dangerous and easy it would be to waste a lifetime in such a state. I dreamed various scenarios of thought, most of them regarding the purchase or procurement of various things.
I sat on a bench by the road and gazed over the buildings at a mountain.
At first the mind dismissed the elevated land but upon conscious inspection I saw this mountain was different to its brothers. It was purple. A vibrant purple too. How many of the towns inhabitants have noticed this beautifully painted heather topped giant? I'm sure they see its bulk, but do they see its temporary coating? The detail? The devil may reside in the detail, but God lives there also. Which of the two is perceived is decided by the beholder.

Kit, in my absence, spoke with Emma. He vocalised a new and recent dissatisfaction with our circumstances, specifically my input of labour. I have not shared his negative view, but I have been aware of how little activity I have been engaged in of late for the progress of the plot.
Shoveling up discarded stones in the car park and sawing up a large pile of junk wood are jobs that perhaps require completion. The former is dull and wearisome when done solitary and ranks low in my priorities. The latter is very slow going with a workbench and a bow saw, and again, does not seem to me at this time to be the most constructive application of my labour. Now is the time of year to get the winter wheat sown and harvest the bounty in the hedgerows. The hawthorn berries are ripening, the blackberries are fat and near ready for the taking.

He (Kit) and his wife Saara have left today for a week to stay with his parents. The sale of land by his parents house requires him to partially renovate and move his military land rover ambulance. With the proceeds of the sale and Kit's share of it, I hope we can finally get on to building the timber frame. I really do hope to not only have spent my time here having only done foundations and groundworks for buildings and never actually built a building.

M Jones

Realisation, Evaluation - Sunday 28/08/11

The weather has been most changeable of late. Strong sunlight interrupted by heavy ominous clouds dragging their pregnant bellies over the horizon and giving birth on our caravan.
I am excited by the prospect, and very keen to, plant some wheat. I found some ripe specimens near the building site where straw was deposited in the winter. This wheat, I believe, was grown in Pembrokeshire so I would like to cultivate it separate from the wheat I bought from the other side of England.
I have found myself pondering where I am and measuring that against where I wish to be. I know this exercise to be folly. I am where I am and it's obviously where I want to be otherwise I wouldn't be here... I attribute it to the realisation that the anniversary of my birth draws near. An obvious time for evaluation. But there is no need to evaluate. All is well.

Airing himself? Or just hanging out?

Cerberus' little sister.

M Jones

Give Me An Order, I'll Give You A Bill - Thursday 25/08/11

A few small items worthy of note have occurred of late. Firstly, Council tax. Pembrokeshire County Council sent me a letter over a week ago. To which I replied.


Thank you for your letter “Re: BLAH" dated 9th August 2011, received 12th August 2011.

In your letter you state that you “require further information...regarding the Council Tax”.

Mr WARLESS WARRIOR can confirm that a 'Static' Caravan was purchased. It was sited ... on the 28th of November 2010.
Mr WARLESS WARRIOR commenced occupation of a Static Caravan approximately 7 days after it was sited.

In your letter you request the following;

  • Please advise if you are the owners of the plot itself, or whether you pay rent to the owner of the land, also confirm who the owner is.
  • Please advise if Mr LANDLORD is living in a tent on the plot, and advise if he uses your caravan for washing/bathing.
  • Please advise if there is a stream or spring on the plot.

With all due respect, MR WARLESS WARRIOR fails to recognise how exactly the answering the above is of any meaningful consequence nor how it pertains to, or might inhibit the calculation of, any Council Tax Liability.
Mr WARLESS WARRIOR would like it noted that, in his opinion without evidence to the contrary, the above is a gross and indecent attempt by BUREAUCRAT OF PEMBROKESHIRE COUNTY COUNCIL to unnecessarily and unjustifiably invade the privacy of a human being, namely MR LANDLORD, by gathering and collecting information for as yet unknown purposes under false pretences.
Mr WARLESS WARRIOR hereby demands that within seven days of receipt of this letter, BUREAUCRAT OF PEMBROKESHIRE COUNTY COUNCIL, provide a full explanation and justification for the three requests made, showing exactly how the requested information is crucial, and inextricably linked, to the calculation of the Council Tax Liability of Mr WARLESS WARRIOR.
BUREAUCRAT OF PEMBROKESHIRE COUNTY COUNCIL hereby agrees that, should no response satisfying the demand made in this letter by MR WARLESS WARRIOR be received within the time frame allotted, PEMBROKESHIRE COUNTY COUNCIL will forfeit all future claim and right to charge/demand/pursue any form of 'Council Tax' from MR WARLESS WARRIOR.

Without malice, mischief, ill will, vexation or frivolity, in sincerity and honour,

W Warrior


On Behalf of


They haven't responded.

Secondly, yesterday, Emma received a threatening voicemail from someone purporting to be calling from a 'Registry Office'. This female, I believe called 'Joy' (She sounded far from joyous, so an ironic name no doubt) and said she would "Requisition" Emma and seek a Court Order.
The Government want title over our child and they appear desperate. They simply cannot force us. Let's look at the language.
"Requisition - noun: An official order laying claim to the use of property or materials.
Verb: Demand the use or supply of goods esp for military or public use" - 

As we know, every order is ordinarily met with a bill. A request can be denied.
If they issue a Court Order, I will issue a bill. It may be that I value the property they wish to obtain at 500 million pounds sterling, or units of functional currency within the United Kingdom of Great Britain. We will see if they wish to make a purchase.

Today Emma took our baby to the local health centre for a check up. Not a problem as she has an NHS number. Bang goes another myth that not registering your child is to deny them health care. Universal free health care, as the name suggests, appears not to be exclusive or limited.

The Erection Of Jude's Sun Dial.

M Jones

Tan My Paled Flesh - Monday 22/08/11

Kit very nearly got away with no one knowing that today was his birthday. This being one of the most productive since his return appeared to be celebration enough for him. The gods smiled upon us and granted the land a day of glorious sunshine. Strong enough to tan my paled flesh almost to the point of burning.

Yesterday I butchered the Rabbit and in the evening Kit, Saara and Henri joined us for Rabbit stew with dumplings and sweet potato. The leftovers of that meal fed us twice more today.

Frances has begun talking about Halloween. Whilst I may feel it premature, there are only two months left between now and then. Images of the dark and cold from the memories of last winter spring to mind. The near ripe blackberries do not comfort me either. We are in the evening hours of the time of plenty.

Offal to the Cat.

Legs and head to the dog - Nothing wasted.

Yum Yum

M Jones

Pork Rotavators - Friday 19/08/11

An almost instant way of disposing of Rabbit entrails would appear to be feeding them to pigs. Simon and Jasmine have some 'on loan'. I felt very guilty after doing so as one of the pigs got inquisitive and made contact with the electric fence. The scream that emanated shocked me. I put down the bucket and observed them. Three great beasts, one male two females. They had churned the grass to the extent that I am certain one could sow a successful crop upon it.
Kit and I had a useful conversation that concerned the relationship of our families and the agreement that exists and allows our continued presence. Things appear to remain satisfactory for both parties.
My afternoon was occupied processing firewood and transporting three barrow loads of 'pea gravel' for use in drainage. I walked Frances to Hoppi and Pauls where she had arranged a sleep over. Before I left however, she got very emotional. Hoppi and Paul were really understanding. It was recognised by Hoppi that Frances' feelings could be attributed to the recent arrival of Erin. She related to Fran the experience of her son, Jarro, after her daughter arrived. Fran admitted to feeling pushed out somewhat and not feeling as involved as I had thought. Something we shall need to redress.
Frances did stay over, as I thought she might. She had been looking forward to it and I knew once she got playing she would most likely not want to leave.
Myself, Emma, Kit, Saara and Nick collaborated to put together a delicious evening meal. Pork casserole with wheat and veg, broad beans and fried hemp seeds, onions soaked in vinegar followed by my bread and butter pudding.

The rabbit will feed us another time.

M Jones