AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE (Continued)

The Harder They Fall(Part 3)

The dog days of the New Year?s winter were damp and drear, no redeeming picturesque snow just damp, drear and windy. The wind the local people called a lazy wind because it didn?t go round you it went straight through you. Brian set about rebuilding Grandpa?s pride and joy, the greenhouse, a large, long and splendid affair in its prime now reduced to a brick base that needed repair and re-pointing topped by a wooden frame which had to be replaced. He had donned sweaters, mittens and an old donkey jacket and set to. He had repaired the brick base and managed to find enough frost free days to complete the re-pointing although he suspected he had been too impatient and might have to do it again.

The size of the needed timber frame had been carefully measured and transferred to his CAD programme. He had spent the coldest, bitterest days lovingly designing his greenhouse and the cold frames he was going to front it with. His next chore was to obtain the wood he needed for the framework. He intended to use the worst of the winter to pre-fabricate the framework in his workshop. It crossed his mind that in the future this would be a good time for a holiday. Would he be able to afford a holiday? He didn?t know. Did he want to go on holiday? He didn?t know. He was where he wanted to be did he need to waste time and money going from the place he had fallen in love with? But that was in the future it was the here and now that needed his attention.

Gradually the weather improved as spring won its annual battle with winter. The greenhouse was finished and with help from one of his recently found friends its erection was completed. Just the brick cold frames remaining to be made.

With the promise of self sufficiency in fruit and vegetables just a few months away Brian split his time between fine days working on and planting the garden and wet days working on the cottage. It had been warm and cosy for Christmastime but now he was putting in steel beams and rescued lintels prior to knocking down walls to complete his open plan downstairs' design.

Steadily he worked through the spring and early summer and the cottage begun to take shape. Taking stock in July he realised just how much he had achieved the garden was a picture, he felt his Grandpa would have been well pleased with it. More importantly it had for several weeks fed him and, indeed, fed him well.

The cottage now boasted an almost completed farmhouse kitchen within a freshly painted open plan design which, strangely, now looked so much larger. Upstairs little had been done but there again apart from repairs and painting his plans for the bedrooms only involved building fitted wardrobes.

The bathroom had been refurbished with a new suite and tiled. This had been as a result of a deal with a plumber he had met in his now regular evening trips to the Barley Mow. The deal had been that Brian would do the brickwork for a block consisting of a garage and large workshop for the plumber in exchange for a completely refurbished and tiled bathroom.

It was at this time that Brian had felt he needed to share what he had achieved with someone from his former life if only to finally lay the ghosts to rest. So it was that Mike the IT man was invited down for a long week-end to as he said ?give his nose a treat.?

Mike was truly impressed with what Brian had achieved and envious of his informal lifestyle working, as he did, with the seasons, the daylight and the weather. As Brian explained days of the week meant nothing to him and neither did set programmes and meal times. ?When I?m hungry I eat?, he explained.

Mike also came with news concerning Elaine. Apparently a very large American company called Enron had been involved in a financial scandal and the ripples from this had affected many other companies including the one where Elaine was the Finance Director. As a result of the rumblings and rumours Elaine had had to resign and had been pursued by the media to the point when she had fled the country. ?They say that she got away with a few million quid?, Mike had revealed, ?I don?t know if that?s true or not and even if it is true the way that girl can spend money I wouldn?t like to guess how long it will last?. ?None of my concern?, Brian had conceded, ?but it does look as if I am well out of it?.

The last night of Mike?s stay they had gone to the Barley Mow for a quiet drink and a bar meal. As they sat chatting Mike had said ?Look I have been debating whether to ask you this or not but here goes. I have started to do some design work, you know the sort of thing trendy cottages for the Chelsea crowd and the Kensington set. Well the thing is would you like to do the restoration work?? Brian thought for a few moments before saying. ?In an emergency to get you out of a spot of bother I would consider it but in all honesty I?d rather not work for townies in the country. It goes against the grain. Mind you if you get work for country people on their own homes I would be more than willing to help?. ?You see,? he explained, ?I don?t like the idea of prettifying cottages. I don?t mind altering them to suit modern life and make them more comfortable but they should remain honest. The countryside is a living working place, it?s not a bloody chocolate box lid?.

Brian had not realised just how much he had raised his voice until he heard the ripple of applause and looked round to see the applauding supportive villages and the red and somewhat angry faces of the week-enders. ?We?ll have to get you on the Parish Council young Brian,? said one farmer friend.

Mike was grinning broadly ?Councillor Brian, got a sort of ring to it in a toy town sort of way.?

Mike had departed the following morning having made Brian promise him an Autumn return. Brian felt Mike?s visit had done them both a power of good and was already looking forward to his return.

Unlike the previous wet and soggy summer this year was hot, sometimes Brian felt, too hot His garden was catering for his needs and would continue to do so as long as he provided it with copious amounts of water. As Wally had predicted he had been glad to give much away. Consequently Wally?s wife had made a deal with Brian A deal, that is, without Brian knowing. She had helped herself to the surplus crops and bottled, salted, frozen, made jams, chutneys and soups and returned most of them to Brian ?Bet you thought I?d pinched ?em,? she had said with a girlish giggle that seemed out of place in someone of her years. Brian had been glad that his outside storehouse had an electricity supply. A trip to a local auction had produced a much needed large commercial chest freezer and the small indulgence of a bench and table set of the type beloved by beer gardens all over the land.

The south facing three sided courtyard had been dressed with homemade wooden planters and were now full of herbs. The fragrance of Rosemary, Thyme and lavender made this a delightful place to rest. Here the bench was placed ready for al fresco breakfasts and the even more enjoyable glasses of wine in the cooling late evening when the sounds of the countryside were at there most evocative. The hoot of the owl, the bark of the dog fox, the cackle of disturbed geese.

It was on just such a late evening that Brian realised he had been in his cottage for exactly a year. A year in which his life had changed and taken him into a direction he had had no plans to go but one he now rejoiced in with every fibre of his being.

In the late autumn Brian had prowled round the half acre of land that was hidden behind the old barn and had had one or two interesting and rather satisfying finds. The first was a young chestnut tree only just tall enough to peep over the top of the twenty foot tall hedge but nevertheless with a worthwhile crop of nuts. Similarly further along the hedge was a gnarled old walnut tree also sporting a reasonable crop. Brian had then decided to systematically walked the length of the hedge and had found bullace and sloe trees and what had first looked like a blackberry bramble patch had revealed it had loganberries intertwined within it.

He had been at a loss to know how to deal with this further increase to his crops. Wally was invited to inspect his finds ?Thus a good ?edge is that? Wally had volunteered, ?and you missed the two greengage trees further along and that tree full of hazelnuts.? ?Tell you what we?ll do I?ll get the missus to collect wos worth collecting and deal with it. Mind you some should have been collected afore now but we?ll still get suffin worthwhile off it. Then in the spring I?ll give it a tidy up and next year the missus can harvest at the right times and we?ll git some real buckets full off of it.? Weeks later Brian had bullace jam, two bottles of sloe gin, pickled walnuts, pureed chestnuts and half a dozen jars of bramble jelly to add to his already well stocked store cupboard.

Mike had returned in the autumn for a couple of days and ended up being put to work and staying a fortnight. Vegetable beds had been dug over, early morning mushrooms collected usually to the refrain of Mike running on about the season of mellow fruitfulness. Herbs had been collected and dried. ?Bloody hell?, Mike had exclaimed at one point, ?you really are the luckiest bugger I know. How do you do it??

Brian thought and replied ?As I said before, I take things as they come and anytime I begin to feel greedy or jealous I remember my old grandpa and how happy he was. He used to say to me as long as I?ve got good grub in my belly and I can live indoors in the warm anything else is a bonus.?

Christmas was so like the previous year that Brian had a distinct feeling of deja vu. The only real change was the discovery that Wally?s missus had donated a lot of his surplus harvest to the village trust responsible for distributing Christmas parcels to the poor and needy. Once again he had tears in his eyes as he thought of these real, far from affluent, people and their caring one for another. ?Hope you didn?t mind? Wally?s missus had said to Brian, ?but there was more than you needed and more than we needed so I just added you bits left over to ours and handed ?em over. Who knows we might be on the other end some day and be glad of a bit of help ourselves?.

January was a bitingly cold month with frequent and heavy snow showers. The countryside round the village got flatter and at the same time more rounded as ditches and dips were fill with snow. One evening he had sat in front of his wood fire supping sloe gin half awake half asleep. The wind rushed through the trees and whistled down his chimney. I hope the roof stays on he thought as a particularly violent gust rattled the letter box and windows. The gust had roused him from his reverie, I should be planning out what is going where in my vegetable plots he mused. He considered the plan for awhile and then exclaimed I don?t need to I begin to know instinctively what to plant where and when. I?m starting to think like a good old country boy. I don?t need plans on paper in fact the work doesn?t take anywhere as long as it did. I have time to enjoy the countryside more. I begin to know which of the old folk lore is worth following and which is a load of nonsense. What was it grandpa used to say ?red sky at night, shepherds? delight, red sky as dawning shepherds? warning ? What was grandpa?s version ah that was it ?red sky at night means the cowshed?s alight.? and what was it Grandpa used to say about a silly person oh yes ?he be sorft as dickies loightshe be.? Brian chuckled to himself and slowly lost his battle with his drooping eyelids.

January gave way to February and passed over it?s white mantle to the new month.

Brian had busied himself with the remaining indoor jobs a repair here a lick of paint there. He was thankful he had decided not to keep any form of livestock and vowed not to do so in the future. It was now a fortnight since he had ventured any further than the wood stack and the treasure trove that was his store room.

He slutted his way round the cottage tracksuits bottoms, pyjama tops and Wellington socks and was rather disconcerted when he heard a tractor making it?s way up the lane. Old Phil from the farm a couple of miles down the lane rapped at the door. ?Just checking your OK, sorry if I startled you but the tractor is the only thing I can get through in.? Brian assured him he was fine but Phil insisted on leaving a few pints of milk and a crate of ale. ?We had to get special dispensation to distribute the milk ?cos it hasn?t been tested at the depot, mind you we do test it ourselves but those bloody suits think we?re like them and know nothing. All a load of bloody squit my family were a milking cows afore Pontius got his flying licence .?