Elsie
It’s official. Me and Telegraph Poles are arty and cool. How do I know? Because I’m in ELSIE MAGAZINE. Tom Hanks reads Elsie, just sayin’.
The Eternal Sinewave
The eternal sinewave approaches nadir.
Fedw Fawr – February Update
Since Christmas, and with few opportunities for anything else to do we decided on a blitzkrieg approach to the upstairs in ye olde part of the house. Four hundred years of west Welsh rain has taken its toll and the stone walls were in a parlous state. The clay mortar long since washed away, and many of the walls have caved in on themselves. This has required us to either rebuild from floor level to wall-plate or fill the huge wonky voids with a mass of lime mortar equivalent to 71 William Shatners (or 322 Kylie Minogues)
Anyway, here’re some pics. The best two photos courtesy of my neighbour and friend, Samuel Ashfield. We make three mixers full per day and then quietly force feed it into the centre of the wall and straightening up where possible as we go along. We have now restored three out of four sides such that they’re ready for a scratch render coat. Where original plaster is still intact, this will remain untouched and preserved. Click an image to see in full.
Oh by the way, while we’re doing all this we’re living in one room with just a cold tap for ablutions. The fourth world.
Looking N to S. © Samuel Ashfield 
Opposite view © Samuel Ashfield 
A mess of largely rotted timbers. 
Stainless helix ties two precarious bits together. 
Wall rebuilt, now awaiting temperatures greater than 5 deg C and we can add lime render coats x 3 
Awaiting first scratch coat (5:2 sand/lime) and some horsehair.
Mr. November
My career has now pinnacled and there’s little left for me to achieve in life. I’ve made it. Spangled celebrity invitations must surely follow. I think I’ll do the “Get me out of here” thing first – it’s only up the road.
I came perilously close to serious heights when The Sun did a piece about our involvement in the esteemed Telegraph Pole Appreciation Society for a recent Saturday edition. Embarrassed by the terrible photo though and corny write-up I never broadcast this further than the foot of our stairs. And buying up all copies nationwide proved a larger task than ever I imagined.
BBC Somerset followed. That was nice, I suppose – they got it, at least, and didn’t try to score any cheap points. But then Talk Radio came on for an interview – and I found myself little more than the punctuation between the presenter’s portentous pontifications. I felt somewhat violated afterwards. So when Channel 4 came knocking for a daytime chat show, I had to decline.
I’ve seen the documentaries: Diego Maradonna never had a moment to himself and Princess Diana even had a scuba paparazzi around the U bend in her toilet. I don’t want any of that thank you very much. And neither does Mrs TPAS.
So, it’s rather fortuitous that presently we’re all forced to hide our faces behind masks enabling me to hang on to my utter Z list nonentification once the new year’s Dull Men’s Club Calendar hits the shops. For you see, dear reader, I and, more specifically, T.P.A.S. are the face of November 2021. Do you know who I am?
P.S. I’ve deliberately blurred the text in the hope it’ll encourage you to buy one to see what it says about me and the other eleven fascinatingly dull people on there. Plus you can use it to check if it’s still Sunday or not.
Such a Shitty Day
No, not investigating a potential nuclear shelter. The infinite wisdom of the previous owner at Fedw Fawr led him to half-fill the septic tank with rubble. Well it is a hole I suppose. Anyway, couldn’t empty the tank properly so I had to fumble around in the bottom 18 inches of goo (rhymes with) for an assortment of bricks, slates and plumbing paraphernalia. Oh how I laughed. It was just like a bran tub except the prizes were rubbish and the bran was a bit soggy.
Introducing Ruby.
I’m not often given to anthropomorphism but then it’s not every house that comes with a free Austin 7. This one, a 1937 Austin Seven RUBY, has been under a tarpaulin at Fedw Fawr this last twenty odd years and the previous owner felt it, nay, she, belonged with the house. Today we bit the bullet and moved Ruby to a purpose-built shed. This gorgeous little car should now slowly come back to life along with the rest of this neglected old house.
Three Days in October
We’re now 15 months into the long renovation of C17 Fedw Fawr. It wasn’t long after we bought this (frankly a wreck of a) place that we uncovered a serious problem with the mighty main chimney stack. Centuries of rain had washed out all the clay mortar from between the stones. That and the sheer weight of the thing had created a long deep fracture and dangerous slippage about half way up. I could put it off no longer and so spent 3 long days in October at the top of a tall ladder with buckets of lime mortar, spiral steel helixes and lots of rocks to stitch and point it all back together again.
Flight to Blackpool
Liverpool docks to starboard and coasting out at Holywell, Blackpool bound. Great day to be a flyer. Blackpool – the airport where almost precisely nothing happens.
Impatience
Wait! I just couldn’t… My favourite island delivers sweetly peated fire water to west Wales.
Highland Cattle in Cwmrheidol
Daniel’s Highland cows have been coming up to our back gate at Dolfawr lately. These are curious beasts and we’ve had to push them back out of the garden several times, and later evict them from the yard by the pole barn. It’s not so much as they were seeking food, more like they just had to see for themselves what was there.
