Lifestyle – Page 2 – Call Me Mother

Multi-Fuel Burning Stoves

Having waited more than twenty years for a multi-fuel or wood burning stove, two were delivered to our home this week. I would like to claim that my motive was renewable energy, concern for the planet and a desire to be part of the global solution, but it wouldn’t be true. I just love stoves!

My love affair began at a very early age as I accompanied my father on parish visits to homes without central heating. (It sounds like Good King Wenceslas, doesn’t it? There was no similarity whatsoever!) Many homes were heated by multi fuel or wood burning stoves and they were always warm and welcoming. Spoiled rotten with delicious treats, hot drinks and a comfortable seat, whilst gazing at mesmerising flames, left an indelible print on my memory; it ranks up there with rocking chairs, cosy blankets and antimacassars. Over the years, I have acquired a number of rocking chairs – the number is a meagre three at present – and antimacassars have as yet to enjoy a revival, so the last point of conquest was the stoves.

I have been a complete “anorak” as usual and researched stoves to the last dot and tittle. Perusing websites, brochures, articles, shops, private homes – you name it, I’ve done it – all in the name of “research”. We used a rather complicated formula (available online) to determine the number of kilowatts of heat our stoves should produce for the size of the room. (A gentleman in a stove shop later told us just to divide the cubic metreage of a room by 14). Then we decided that heating an entire floor was probably more our thing. We narrowed the enormous selection down to two stoves and could not make a decision. So, we concluded that two stoves heating two floors would actually be better than angst!

The stoves were purchased from Stove World UK Ltd (available online). The prices were the most competitive and the quality of the burners is second to none. When I spoke to staff at the shop, they were friendly, knowledgeable and helpful. If you are stove shopping; try them.

The slightly humorous hiccough, at this point, is that despite having 13 chimneys – 11 of which we don’t use – we will need another to accommodate one of the stoves. Ho hum! I’ll let you know how it all goes. Enjoy your week.

Slugs, Spiders and Hen Food

Country life and its difference from that of the urban experience was emphasised, yet again this week, as I chatted and socialised with friends. Fern, who has lived in the village all her life (as have many of the others) and who still sees her parents every day, reduced me to tears with the retelling of a day last year. Her two year old daughter wandered in from the garden chewing merrily and determinedly. Upon inspection, she was discovered to be clutching the remains of a slug. Chuckling at my appalled expression, Gill chipped in with the tale of a local mum who had summoned her daughter after spotting two lines on her bottom lip. Mouth prised open, said child was interrupted in her attempts to consume a large house spider. The remains of the slug and the damp, but otherwise uninjured, spider were retrieved and discarded with minimum fuss. Life went on. It is definitely different from London!

Filled with determination to embrace the “have a go at everything and expect almost certain success” attitude I admire so much in my local friends, I decided to purchase and take home a 25kg sack of food pellets for our hens. (It’s a task I usually delegate to the men in my life!) Using a trolley – no mean feat in itself – I wrestled the sack from the floor and conveyed it to the till of the animal feed store. Focussed concentration and dogged determination got the sack from the trolley to the car, but no further. After much contemplation – and a cuppa! – I realised that the answer to everything was our trusty wheelbarrow. Surveying the horizon to check that none of my sensible and eminently respectable neighbours were in view, I dashed into the road with the wheelbarrow and positioned it next to the car door. Muttering and grunting, I hoisted the sack from the vehicle into the wheelbarrow (of course, just as a neighbour appeared from nowhere) and after a smug jig of victory, I drove the sack to the back garden. It wasn’t much in the eyes of the world, but to me it was a giant step in my resolution to live more positively in 2012 than I have ever lived before. How are your resolutions going?

O Christmas Tree!

Having spent the last week being trained for my new job – and loving it – I walked into town to pay my weekly visit to the greengrocer. Basket in hand, I set forth in hot pursuit of coriander leaves, butternut squashes and boiled sweets. En-route, I was leafleted by an acquaintance distributing invitations to the official “switching on” of the Christmas tree lights. An event to be followed by a live nativity complete with animals, a four day old baby, mince pies and hot drinks!

Thus propelled into the festive spirit, we went in search of the unillumined topiary. Oh dear, oh dear! If there is a sadder tree propped crookedly for all to witness its pathetic inadequacy, I would hate to see it. Our poor tree is – well, average. Its height, shape and colour are all average (at best) and its only remarkable feature is its wonkiness and accompanying crib scene “kindly donated by the Knights of St. Columba”. (If you’ve never heard of them, join the club; we hadn’t either. But, like everything else, they can be googled.)

This evening, festive spirit firmly in place, we shall watch the miracle of fairy lights transforming our mediocre specimen into a tree “fit for purpose”, before dashing to mince pies, live animals and a newborn baby. Happy days!