Under pressure

Slight shortage of new posts at the moment ‘cause I’ve got my head down beavering away in preparation for The St Ives Flower & Produce Show, held this coming Saturday. So into the last week and it’s all getting a bit fraught as entry forms come rushing through the letterbox and I bang the 300+ entries into the Show database.

The judges’ scores are entered into the database on the morning of the Show and it’s from the database that the Class and Show winners are decided. Oh, and got to print from the database 300+ Show cards to go by the exhibits.

My worst nightmare is that I find a major fault on the morning of the Show and have to do some panicky fixing on the hoof… or even worse if the whole thing falls in a heap and we have to go manual. Worked OK last year but you never know!

So the major task after tomorrow, once the deadline for entries has passed, is to make sure the whole thing works by extensive testing.

But still got lots more entry forms to input. So what am I doing here blogging away? Honestly don’t know… goodbye for now!

Cure for baldness

It all started with a ‘phone call from grandson Sammy…

Grampy, we’ve just caught the biggest spider ever from behind the settee. Mum and dad won’t go anywhere near it. If you want to join my spidor (sic) club you’ll have to come and hold it.

Does it have hairy legs?

Yes.

Will it fit on my head?

Yes.

Right, I’ll be round your house tomorrow morning and you can put it on my head.

So here I am yesterday morning, peering rather nervously into the spider’s temporary home…

And what a whopper he was…

Sammy helpfully pointed out the large fangs. I said they were just for show, but he assured me it had bitten his dad… the fact Barry was peering nervously at the proceedings from the safety of the bedroom window added weight to this simple statement. And the thought that, having been without food as well as being poked and prodded for two days, Gnasher wouldn’t be in the best of moods, added a certain frisson to the proceedings.

So I was ceremoniously prepared for the ordeal. I had to kneel down so Sammy could place the insect on my pate and to kneel in the sand pit so when the spider dropped to the floor he couldn’t escape up anyone’s trouser leg…

The first attempt was a failure as the spider hung tenaciously to the inside of the can… though from the screams from me and the observers you’d think the spider version of Godzilla had just landed on my skull. Glad I didn’t see this photo at the time, that space into the back of my T-shirt would look all too inviting to a spider on the run…

So back to the drawing board and a smaller pot to use for placing the spider. Here’s the moment when Gnasher finally realised his game was up…

And the most important photo of all, with Gnasher spread-eagled on my skull…

… the screams and general terror were such that daughter Becky was more concerned for her own safety than capturing the moment for posterity and snapped late and wayward, capturing a picture of a foot! But I have multiple witnesses currently undergoing post traumatic stress therapy who can all testify the spider did land on my bald patch.

I’ve still not given up on the kill or cure method jump starting my follicles into action. How long do you think I should give it?

Best kept allotment competition

Well, the result is out in our allotment competition and... I got a silver gilt award! Pretty pleased with that since it's my first time in the competition and only one down from the prestigious gold award. And does that note at the top of the second image below really mean I just missed top spot?

For the uninitiated it isn't really a competition as such. There aren't any 'winners' or 'losers'. Everyone gets a certificate and an invitation to shake the Mayor's hand at afternoon tea in the gardens of the Norris Museum. But sure as eggs is round consumable products each allotment holder who entered will be gagging to know who got what award.

So here's a bit of detail about how the scoring went and what it looks like I need to do to have a chance of the being awarded the yellow lustre next year.

My total score was 74 out of 90. The scoring bands are...

AWARD	POINTS
Gold	81 to 90
Silver gilt	63 to 80
Silver	48 to 62
Bronze	30 to 47
Commendation	0 to 29

For most items I either scored the maximum or lost one point. I lost most points for...

Evidence of catch cropping... only awarded 1 point out of a possible 5. I had to look up what catch cropping was... raising fast growing crops such as radishes simultaneously or in between main crops. Fair enough, that's easy to sort for next year. We were raising quick growing crops, but in pots in front of the shed.

Evidence of successional planting/sowings... awarded 3 points out of 5. We did have lettuce, radish and carrots growing, but only one lot being raised for each.

Ingenious devices or modes of recycling... awarded 4 points out of 6. Now that's right up my street, thinking up whacky things that might just work. Have to get the thinking cap on for next year... my water storage system of overflowing from one water butt to a other isn't enough in itself.

So if I get, say, 1 point off the maximum for each of the above I'd gain another 5 points, total 79 points. Still 2 points off being awarded a gold. And that's where I suspect the real challenge is for next year, getting those extra 2 points from items where I already scored highly... without losing any points where I scored the maximum.

Oh the agony! All good fun though. I've given myself a reminder for the Christmas holidays to plan what I'm going to do in 2012 to win that gold!

Images below giving more detail on my scores.

Above is first summary of the scores

This is the second summary of the scores.

And the detail behind the second summary.

David Eastwood

In my garage there’s a special bottle of whisky. It’s the last delivery from my friend David, given me by his family at David’s wake four years ago. David died at the age of 54.

Every year David and his wife would go on holiday to Spain for three or four idyllic weeks of peace and sunshine. With twenty-one dearly loved grandchildren the summer break was doubly earned. On his return there’d be tales of five course evening meals, accompanied by drinks and after dinner liqueurs, all for £5.

Having been away for that length of time and no doubt carrying a few pounds, I’d anticipate my weekly squash battle with David would more certainly go my way. Occasionally it did, more often David return fully refreshed, raring to go, and hammer me off court.

David would return with a car load of booze. Knowing my liking for whisky he’d bring me back a case or two at the princely sum of £3 a bottle. You might not be familiar with the brand, ‘Statesman’. Another type he bought back was ‘Old Keeper’.

Now I used the word ‘special’ in the opening sentence, and special the bottle is to me. And in fact the label has the description ‘Special Quality’. Also says ‘Fully Matured’, ‘Finest Old’. On the rear label it says…

This old Scotch Whisky is produced from only the finest Malt and Grain Whiskies which have been specially selected and matured in oak cask (sic) for a period of 3 years or more. The individual character and taste will be appreciated in particular by those who know and understand Scotch Whisky.

I’ve no doubt every word on the bottle is true. The whisky does have an individual character, best appreciated after a good few sips of a more mainstream brand. The age of my bottle must now be approaching the more commonly acceptable age for a decent whisky of ten years… but there’s a certain rough edge I doubt will be mellowed by the keeping.

But I won’t be having an opening ceremony no matter how desperate I get for a tipple. Gives me too many happy memories of Saturday afternoons down the sports centre, stretched out in the sun after a couple of hours of squash watching a game of cricket, cool beer in hand, discussing the woes of the world and how my friend David and I would put things right if we ever got the chance.