Forwards and occasionally sidewards – everyday musings of life

The Hungry Chipper
The week began with a session of garden-scale gluttony. Having spent the morning producing the Carma Drivers podcast, I turned my attention to a particularly offensive conifer we had recently felled. I spent the afternoon feeding the remains into the chipper. It is a slow, methodical eater, the chipper; it savours its meal of “horrible plant” with far more patience than I had for cutting it down. In the evening, I had successfully navigated the most complicated meal in the Hello Fresh repertoire—an eleven-ingredient burger marathon that left me feeling quite the culinary architect.

The Scaffolding Phase
By Tuesday morning, I fully expected the “Wry Observer” to have been replaced by a human statue. After a day wrestling with a hungry chainsaw and the garden’s debris, I anticipated my legs would have locked straight overnight, feeling more like rigid scaffold poles than functional limbs. Surprisingly, the miracle occurred: no “scaffold legs,” no stiff elbows, and no lingering grief from the heavy lifting. It seems I am in better shape than the chainsaw, which emerged from the conifer battle battered and bruised, requiring a full session of maintenance and sharpening just to live to fight another tree.

The Great Escapologist
Any thoughts of a “recovery day” were summarily cancelled by Moog. Our resident “nervous wee lad” remains a creature of high-tensile anxiety, particularly regarding the weekly bin lorries. One rumble of a diesel engine and he was “on the run.”
The ensuing manhunt was a classic Pewsey operation. After an hour of scouring the landscape, our local intelligence network—in the form of a canal-boat dweller—spotted him. Moog hadn’t quite thought his “cunning escape” through; he had fled the bin lorry only to head straight for his favourite splashing spot in the canal. He was eventually recovered, looking exhausted and likely disappointed that his bid for freedom ended with a lead and a walk back to the very house that sits on the bin-lorry route.

The Arena of Mayhem
My mid-week visits to the local school for lunchtime Table Tennis continue to be a highlight. There is a certain joy in watching students attempt to play TT with the soaring, high-hitting ambition of a badminton professional. I find myself constantly reminding them that the ball belongs on the table, not in the rafters. Out of the mayhem, a few future stars are emerging, leaving me floating back home with a wide grin.

The Sick Bay
Thursday was a day of medical irony. It began with a phone call from the surgery informing me my appointment was cancelled because the doctor had “phoned in sick”—a punchline that writes itself. Then, the Stallion decided to join the infirmary. The dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree, scrolling through a dizzying array of (alleged) faults before dropping into “limp mode.”
Even in “limp mode,” the Porsche still offers 250 bhp. It is a testament to modern engineering that a “sick” car still possesses more power than a small fleet of family hatchbacks. The garage suspects water in the electrics—perhaps the car was simply sympathising with Moog’s canal swim.

The Culinary Identity Crisis
To cap off the week, we met friends for a “Tapas Curry.” I am firmly of the opinion that a meal should know which country it belongs to. Why must a pub “mess about” with such things? It is either Tapas or it is a Curry; attempting to be both is a culinary identity crisis that leaves the palate thoroughly confused. It was average at best, though the company was the saving grace.

A Cunning Plan Confirmed
We ended the week with a delightful 10k walk. Between the muddy dogs and our own flagging energy, we reached a major milestone: the house plans are agreed, and we’ve agreed which contractors to engage. The “Great Restoration” is finally moving from the “Planning Phase” into reality. We celebrated this monumental decision by falling asleep on the sofa the moment we got home.

The Wry Outlook
As the Stallion recovers in the garage and the dogs dream of canal-side escapes, the new week beckons. We have a plan, we have a contractor, and hopefully, we have a doctor who has made a full recovery.