Caught with a wall off

The weather forecast for the week, and thoughts of approaching winter, led us to cancel an outing and a Sunday showing of the red Harry Hall at the local cyclists' mecca Cafe d'Lune [sic] http://www.alexbarnes1653.webspace.virginmedia.com/cafe/  in favour of further work on the allotment. Ominous chinks of daylight that I'd seen through the west wall of the shed were a spur to action. Conscious that summertime was over, I rushed up to the plot while Jenni put together her usual gourmet picnic and brewed a flask of coffee.

I confirmed with the tape measure that if I incorporated two further double glazing units I had just enough fresh cladding timber to replace the decaying tongue-and-groove. Windows increased the complexity of the task, but we'd be rewarded with enhanced daylight and a westward view across Morecambe Bay, a bit like this:

Unfortunately the available glazing is only a fraction of the area of the fabulous aperture above, but we'd still get something of the effect.

With rain forecast overnight, tearing off the old timber was potentially over-committing, but I took a deep breath and did it anyway. Then we had a brief, idyllic interlude in the warm sunshine, feasting on the goat's cheese and gherkin sandwiches Jenni had made, hard boiled eggs, fruit and chocolate marzipan to go with the coffee.

Now the pressure was on to get the job finished before nightfall. Having planned out the next season's planting on paper, Jenni got on with painting the fence. Meanwhile I, designing, measuring, sawing and drilling, made rapid progress - but not quite fast enough. Darkness overtook us with everything cut to size and painted, new window frames constructed, but the cladding and windows yet to be installed. So I fashioned an emergency skin of cut-open fertilizer bags and hoped that this would be proof against the coming wind and rain - until the next promised break in the weather on Tuesday.

Things constructed and things devoured

I arrived at the allotment shed yesterday, all set to finish the shelving, to find we'd had guests. Intelligent guests. Guests with adventurous gastronomic tastes.
At first I disregarded the fallen soap box. My careless stowing, I thought. Nor did I at first notice the neat hole in a cardboard oatcakes pack. Until I removed one of the internal cellophane wrapped sachets and observed the obsessively precise bisection of all seven oatcakes, rendered as seven perfect semi-circles. No crumbs, no ragged edges - just perfectly aligned diametric trims. Not quite so clinically tidy were the dry black faeces scattered nearby, which finally persuaded me that we'd been entertaining little visitors.
Then I returned to the soap. Evidently our gourmet guests had scorned dry oatcakes, and applied much ingenuity to secure a topping. Hence the soap box knocked to the floor to remove the lid. The toothmarks on the bar indicated healthy appetites and appreciative chomping.

Whether there were any upset rodent tummies after this unconventional feast is unclear, but we shall have to monitor soap consumption from now on.

It was peaceful constructing the shelves, undistracted by mice or men.

When I could no longer see where to put the screws for the towel rail, I knew it was time to head home.

A dry day

It's been an inclement autumn aside from the extraordinary heatwave at the beginning of October, which was enjoyable if eerily indicative of climate change. Alongside the start-up of  http://www.proudtorideclassic.co.uk/ I've had the project (trivial at first glance, until one considers the implications of not doing so) of making our pre-owned allotment shed proof against the weather assailing it on our exposed plot above the Irish Sea, where horizontal rain dictates the incorporation of boat-building techniques! The idea is to supplement business income with cash-saving food, and even in our first eight months on the plot we've reduced our grocery bill. As food prices go up in line with fuel, the labour invested should pay us back - even if it doesn't show directly in my book-keeping. So with this thought in mind, I overcome the urge to finish my first couple of bikes, as these can be done tomorrow, a wet Saturday, and use this rare dry interlude to finish the shed. After all, I had a magnificent 27-mile trek last Monday, when until self-employment I'd have been at work. I was walking too much to take many photographs, but the few I made are at http://www.flickr.com/photos/16609214@N05/sets/72157627986083752/

Blog back on the road!

Where did the summer go? The logistics and time demands of the Milestones Ride across France, for all its richness and ultimate success, wrought havoc with my blogging plans. On our return, Proud to Ride Classic and various commitments and projects vied for attention. I managed to keep up a flow of photos to Flickr, to gather almost 300 valued followers on Twitter and to make many contacts among  cycling enthusiasts, so in the unlikely event that anyone set about writing my biography, there would at least be a breadcrumb trail. This blog, however, drifted into Cinderella-like neglect.
Now,  a series of sessions with www.backroomsam.co.uk has proved one of the best investments Proud to Ride Classic could make. Sarah Thornton has brought receptiveness, expertise and drive to growing the  administrative and networking tools of my business. You may well be reading this directly as a result of one her many enhancements. Entries here will be notified across the social media, so I can maximize my energy in keeping you, my customers, suppliers, well-wishers, supporters and friends, updated as the Proud to Ride Classic story unfolds. I'm excited about the journey, and about the encounters it will bring with cyclists and with the craftsmanship of fine bikes.