1 Man, 1 Hunter, 1 Nomad.: life

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

The floodgates are wide open. The unstoppable force of life is overflowing all around. It started in the hedgerows and trees, and yesterday welcomed more amongst the birds and animals. A volunteers cat gave birth to a litter of healthy kittens, and six goslings emerged from their island on the millpond. Of course there has to be a balance. There is old age, natural selection and Lady Luck to contend with. My air rifle and I are near bottom of the list of threats. There are far more efficient and prolific hunters than I abroad.
This evening, whilst camouflaged under the dense foliage of a hawthorn bush waiting for a rabbit I'd seen the previous night to appear, not one, but two wood pigeons landed in the tree above. Unable to thread a pellet through the twigs and branches, I eased my way way out until I had a clear view of a feathery backside. Completely undetected, I winced as lifted the bolt and slid it forward. Click. They fixed their gaze upon me in an instant and froze.
Committed now, I completed the action. Clunk. They buggered off.
The moral of the story? Once in position, make ready your weapon, that is, put a round in the chamber. Cheers pigeons for that lesson.
An hour later the light was fading fast, my arse was numb and I dared not allow blood back to my lower leg for fear of the crippling revenge my body would take.
It was then I heard movement. Behind me. As I turned my head, it stopped in its tracks barely five feet away. A very happy and healthy looking fox. In his jaws the very thing I was after. A rabbit. You cunning git. He was stunned. Almost a "why the hell are you hiding under there?" expression on his face. A retreat to a safe distance the a "you'll never catch rabbits doing that" look.
You deserve to be proud Mr Fox.
So the cycle is completed. More life, more death. I'm very grateful I'm top of the food chain around here.

Prior to my evening hunt, I spent a solid day scything a spiral in Kits field. Hard but extremely rewarding and therapeutic work. Helped me get the knack for it that's for sure.