Free from Interference

Well true to form, Simon has managed to do a quick repair to the fence and gate of Lenny’s field – good enough at least to eliminate the immediate threat of a possible llama absconsion. And even though we have constructed the two rope set-up that will give us remote control of the top gate to his field, Simon has declared that today is not the day for the Grand Experiment. It is instead a day for doing some of those many ‘little’ jobs that we keep putting off because they are so little as to be easily forgettable.

So Simon has at last planted the two beautiful but diminutive gooseberry bushes he brought back from his last trip to England, and I have at last cut the jungle of Very Tall Grass in the dogs’ play pen, so that it no longer incites the electric fence to that interminable and oh-so-irritating click….click…..clicking, with its damp and rankling ruffling about.

And then Simon decided that today was definitely the day to Deal With The Telephone Wire Issue.

Our telephone wire is our life-line to the outside world. Without it, we not only have no phone. We also, and much more importantly, have no internet. So its continued, effective functioning is a matter of some considerable concern to us. Our telephone wire also arrives at our house after a very long journey across fields, along lanes, and in and out through a veritable forest of trees with wayward branches that rest their weary wooden weight upon it, and seem intent upon threatening our communication with the rest of humanity, especially on windy days.

Now we know, with a knowing that comes from a growing appreciation of All Things French, that an organisational response to the issue of a compromised telephone line would only come after the line had actually been broken or brought down completely. And that, even then, such a response would in no way be ‘timely’. So Simon felt that we should be proactive in the protection of the technology, and we duly headed off down the lane this morning with a saw, some loppers and a Very Long Ladder.

This is one of the things we love about living deep in the countryside in the middle of nowhere-in-particular. No one minds if you take such things into your own hands. On the contrary, it seems to be expected. There is a sense in which the lack of easy recourse to outside assistance is empowering. It seems more the way life should be. If you have a problem, you roll up your sleeves, grab a few tools and a bit of creative thinking, and fix it as best you can. The results don’t have to look pretty – they only have to work. And there is something Very Satisfying Indeed about such a job well done. Unlike any of the problems we had to deal with in our employed lives, these sort of problems actually get fixed, by us, with no outside interference, and then we can stand back smiling smugly, to enjoy the results of our efforts.

So, after much precarious ladder-balancing and leaping-out-of-the-way of falling branches, (all cut oh-so-carefully, so that they didn’t fall on the wire or lean against it with any pressure), we now have a free-from-danger, free-floating telephone line, and another extremely big pile of hazel branches. And the llamas are enjoying snacking on the leaves of the branches which we have propped over their gate, so they can strip them of their greenery and twiggery, before we return later to process the remnants into kindling and firewood for the future. And with the weight literally lifted from Simon’s mind, he is free to wander cheerily into the Land of What’s Next, no doubt dragging my lazy ass along behind him, kicking and screaming against the inevitability of a life in which there is always something else that Needs To Be Done.