Time for a change

For virtually no good reason at all, we have changed the look of trotty.net, the whole thing now having a much more watery theme [This site is no longer active]. The blog is now replicated in Blogger (where you won’t notice any change) and WordPress. These two sentences will mean something to those with a keen interest in the world of the Internet and a good knowledge of the world of blogging but maybe less to others. For everyone though, we hope you like it. Feel free to pass comment using the link below.

Meanwhile the focus of lives has shifted upwards to our guttering at the back of the house which, perhaps in sympathy with some of the internal pipes, leaked when it rains. The drips from this seem to accelerate to near light speed whilst falling and hit the ground underneath with a deep thud, something which at first we don’t notice but eventually this crept into our consciousness and became annoying. I resolve to climb up there and fix it so when dry, sunny weather arrives I’m up a ladder with my sealant gun, squirting the stuff into every crack I can find. We had to wait no more than a few days for some good heavy rain to test my repair – it is fixed.

Kate is currently on a mission with some new paint brushes we bought in a rush of enthusiasm at our favourite DIY store. The boundary wall and fence around our back yard have succumbed and turned cream and brown, after which she shut herself in our largest bedroom and applied ‘Bumble’ to the walls. Someone, somewhere must be making a fortune thinking up names for paint colours although I must confess it is not a science I have ever properly understood. What sort of a mind thinks up things like ‘Feather Down’ or ‘Lunar Falls’ and expects us to associate it with a colour? And why would you want to paint ‘Delicate Cobweb’ or ‘Dragon’s Blood’ on your walls anyway? Notwithstanding this, the effect in the bedroom is highly agreeable and it is one step forward in our top to bottom refurbishment. We are still waiting for our designated builders to find time to come in and change our lives by merging our downstairs living space into one so jobs like this fill in our time nicely.

Taking some time out from decorating we wander up Wyndham Hill which lies on the south-eastern edge of Yeovil and whose summit is graced by three very ancient trees which we think are elm. Their heart-wood is long gone leaving hollowed spaces to climb into and investigate but somehow the massive trees remain standing. If they are elm then they have survived Dutch elm disease and no doubt many other traumas in their long lives.

This is a grand spot from which to admire the countryside for miles around. We are afforded a view across the town as well, even as far as the grass airfield used by the aircraft factory which lies at the centre of this town. For Yeovil is where helicopters are made, Westland helicopters, to be precise, and without this big employer the place would be a shadow of what it is today. Helicopters, of course, are used by the police and military so the fate of Yeovil is very much dependent upon national security and defence spending plans. Recently many in the town have been holding their breath while the government carries out its defence spending review but there are happy faces around now the outcomes are known. The news is good for Westlands and that is good for the town too. This may mean a few more helicopters over-flying our house but I suppose we shouldn’t complain.

Finally I tackle the wall in our front garden which is leaning dangerously as if with the slightest knock it might fall over. Over the years the tree growing adjacent to the wall has expanded, its roots gradually tipping the foundations from underneath, thus making the whole structure lean dangerously sideways and unstable, or so we thought. Expecting that no more than a few hammer blows would bring the thing tumbling down I ventured forth dressed in protective gloves and boots but soon discovered, to my dismay, that all is not quite as it appears. The concrete blocks resist my efforts to bring them down. I rapidly reach the same conclusion that Police Chief Martin Brody reached in the film, Jaws, when on first confronting the giant fish he said, ‘We need a bigger boat’. I need a bigger hammer and even with this I see many more days of effort stretched before me. The wall seems determined to hang together and oppose my efforts to remove it. But I will not be defeated.