AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE (Continued)

The Harder They Fall(Part 2)

The next few weeks could be summed up in two words it rained. He spent his time in his bedsit thinking, planning. He unpacked his laptop a parting ?gift? from his former Company in as much as they hadn?t asked for it back. He rang a former colleague not sure of the reception he would get. In the event he had been pleasantly surprised when Mike had seemed genuinely pleased to hear from him. Mike worked in IT and Brian quickly outlined the programme he was looking for. A user-friendly CAD package that he could put his existing cottage and garden on to and then renovate and redesign. Mike recommended a package that he could ?lay his hands on? free and he even offered Brian his help if help were needed.

A few days later Mike rang again to say he just heard about a landscape gardener friend who was chucking it in and moving to France. Thing was he explained the guy was getting shot of all his tools and things. If Brian moved sharpish he could probably drop on to the lot quite cheap. Brian took the phone number Mike offered and a few days later he was the proud owner of rotavators, powered lawn mowers, rotary and cylinder, an Allen scythe, other assorted tools and finally a cement mixer all for a very reasonable price.

It took Brian four trips in the pickup to ferry his new toys to his cottage. But still it rained and now he begun to champ at the bit, he wanted to get a started. He had entered up the plans on his laptop and started to draw up the improvements he wanted to make and the restoration work that was needed.

Upstairs the cottage had three bedrooms and these were to have built in wardrobes before being redecoration The bathroom needed to be completely refurbished and tiled. Downstairs he intended to make completely open plan.

Outside forming a generously sized three sided courtyard was a large outside brick and tiled store to one side and facing the back of the cottage the coal house, the laundry room complete with old stone copper and, of course the redundant ?thunder box?. The fourth side facing south was open to the rest of the garden. All work to do, all needed to be done now but still it damn well rained. Brian reckoned if he could get the services on and one room weatherproofed he could say good bye to the dreary cheap bedsit and live on site.

Then miraculously the day after the children went back to school, summer holidays over, the sun shone. What is more it continued fine and dry for the next two months. The cottage from ground to roof was made weather and waterproof, Brian had done most of the work himself save for the roof where he had called in a favour from a small specialist roofing contractor. He had also managed to convert the coalhouse, laundry room and redundant ?thunder box? into one long workshop quite big enough for his needs. The large outside brick and tiled store he intended to keep as a store, he had remembered how successfully his grandpa had kept fruit and vegetables in that cool dry store. Just got to get it dry again he had thought.

By the last week of October he was ready for the gas and electricity to be connected. He was indeed fortunate because this was one of the few small villages to be connected to the gas supply, thanks mainly to the large gas fired malting situated in the village. By the end of the month he was able to move in to his weather proof and ever so slightly warm cottage. He planned to install central heating during the run up to Christmas. Not that Christmas would be much of an event for him this year. The days of lavish parties with rich friends on expense accounts were well and truly over for him. Funny how quickly they had all disappeared after Elaine had got shot of him. He doubted that he was even on their Christmas card lists.

The weather still held, cold but dry and Brian decided to make clearing the worst of the weeds and rubble in the garden his next priority. The motorised scythe would make the job less difficult but still not easy. On the second day of his endeavours he had a visitor from one of the local farmers. ?You don?t remember me but I knew you when you were a little scrap of a thing, I was a pal of your Grandfather?. Brian thought he?s right I don?t remember him but he passed the time of day with him as if they were old mates. ?Thing is I reckon you?ve got a big job clearing that lot and I?ve got a couple of my men with time on their hands and some farm machinery that would make short work of all that clearing. I don?t want paying, I pay my men anyway so they might as well be working. Brian thanked him and breathed a sigh of relief and asked him if he could recommend anyone to prune Grandpa?s old fruit trees. ?I?d rather like to save them if I can?, he added. ?One of the men I?m sending over Old Wally he?s a dab hand at pruning and that like. If anyone can save them trees it?ll be him.? And with that he bid Brian good bye and carried on up the lane in the direction of The Barley Mow.

Brian thought about the morning?s events. I?m back among real people who have got time for each other. They meet and stop for a chat and they don?t bloody well call it networking. They seem to help each other willingly without entering the favours in a columned account book labelled ?Favours Given? and ?Favours Received.? Real people in a real world living a real life. Suddenly he knew for sure that he was home. The past was partly a dream, partly a nightmare. The past was a different country.

Sure there was a lot to do but his journey had started. Days of honest but enjoyable toil to be followed by the sleep of the contented countryman. He was where he wanted to be now all he had to do was live the life he wanted. What had they called people like him in the past? Smallholders? No that wasn?t it. Yeoman that?s the word I?m looking for, yeoman.

By the end of November the garden had been cleared and a thick layer of well rotted stable manure worked in. Fifteen of Grandpa?s old fruit trees had been saved and five that had been beyond redemption had been dug up and now formed part of the growing pile of logs ready to feed the wood burning stove that he was seeking to buy.

The saved trees, now expertly pruned with the dead wood chopped out along with the weaker branches looked good for another fifty years.

?You should have a good crop next year and an even better one the year after,? Wally had told him before he had added, ?don?t you go a meddling now I?ll come back and give them the once over and a winter wash when the time is right. And another thing I?ve planted a few bits and bobs best you leave them alone too, at least for now anyhow.? Wally refused any recompense for his work ?You?ll be a begging me to take some fruit off of your hands come next autumn, that?ll be payment a plenty.?

December started off, as he had feared with not a hint of the festive season to come. He had however managed to install the central heating system and settled on a large fire basket instead of the wood burning stove. He had bought it at a local auction and the item, which would have fetched a considerable sum if the townie second home owners had been there, was his for a pittance. He reflected how soon he had become disparaging about the people he had not so long ago been one of. The fire basket had needed a couple of small repairs and a decent coat of black lead but now gleamed from it?s home in the huge ingle nooked fireplace. The alcove at the side of the fireplace Brian had filled with logs. Warm and snug inside, bitingly cold and bright outside this is how winters should be he thought.

Suddenly a week or so before Christmas things finally started to happen . First an unexpected gift from Elaine in the shape of a very large and lavish hamper. ?Fortnum and Mason?, he mused thinking it must have cost her a bob or two until he realised it was an ?executive? gift almost certainly charged to her expense account. Cards arrived from people in the village and even one or two old friends including Mike the IT man who enclosed a chatty letter and suggested he came down on a tour of inspection ?Because I?m a nosey bugger.? he had added as his justification.

There then occurred the magical two days. Over these two days he had been given a large free range chicken, A brace of pheasants and a half a dozen pigeons. The gifts had been from the village folk who a few short months ago he had not even met. He longed for the time when he would be able to repay their kindnesses.

Finally to top it all a visit from the landlord of ?The Barley Mow? inviting him to join them at the pub for Christmas lunch. ?We do this every year for the loose end live aloners .? He explained, ?doesn?t seem right they should be alone at this time of the year, always the same a big, fat goose and traditional Christmas fare followed by a kip in front of the fire in the main bar. They?ll be about a dozen of us including me and the missus.? He was delighted to accept the kind invitation and vowed to visit the Barley Mow more frequently in the coming year.

That night as he sat in front of his roaring log fire he thought about the last few months and there were tears in his eyes.

In the event Christmas passed by in a blur. Christmas Eve he was in the Barley Mow. Brian signed up for the following years Barley Mow Christmas Savings Club not because he needed help with saving, he was quite capable of living well within his means. His motive was quite simply he wanted to be part of this village, this community. He had a need, an urge to join in as many facets of village life as he could. He had chatted to the secretary of the village Horticultural Society and promised to go along to their next meeting as a guest. He had volunteered to be a roller pusher for the cricket team and he had been persuaded to take part in the pub quiz nights for a team rejoicing in the name of The Residue.

Christmas lunch again at the Barley Mow had been a great success. He had wondered what to take to a meal at a pub. Somehow the custom bringing a bottle had not seemed appropriate but then he had had a brainwave. The fireplace in the main bar was immense and Brian had this very large log. Well it was, in truth, half a tree trunk that he hadn?t got round to chopping. A veritable Yule log which had been accepted with genuine pleasure by the landlord and his ?missus? and had reputedly burnt all Christmas Day and well into Boxing day.