Well – this is my first blog of 2012.

Olympic year.  Leap year.  Happy new year.

The Olympics must be the biggest con-trick of all time.  Why on earth do countries fight to host it?  How long does it last?  Three weeks?  How much has it/will it cost the tax-payer?  It must cost a million pounds for every second it lasts.  Still – we all know that those wonderful people in Westminster know exactly what they’re doing with our money – and they never waste it.  Although I live in Spain I still pay taxes in the UK.

When the Olympics take place, it will be the first time a black man will have run like stink in Stratford without a woman’s handbag under his arm.  Do you get it?  He’s just mugged her!  Oh oh.  Racism.

A friend’s elderly mother made a comment recently which cracked everybody up.  Apparently some wanker of a footballer has made a racist remark to a fellow professional.  The old gal said “I don’t think it’s fair that they should call them darkies names.”  Enough said!

What a lovely term – darkie.  Absolutely 100% inoffensive.


My little gardening job is still going well.  Last week I had to fell a pine-tree.  My boss had had enough of this tree for a few reasons.  It was blocking her view of the mountains.  They’re a fire-hazard.  They attract some weird caterpillars which are dangerous to the dogs.

Right then – I look at this tree and the tree looks back at me.  I’m thinking – what’s going to be the easiest way of doing this and the tree’s thinking – I don’t like the look of that chain-saw.

I worked with a lazy Barnsleyite at the pit for a short while and he had this theory that you should always send a lazy man to do a job because he would find the easiest way of doing it.

With those words echoing through my head I looked at the tree again.  I sawed one of the lower branches off and dragged it out of the way.  It weighed a bloody ton.  I stood back and looked at the tree again.  After staring each other out, I decided the big fucker was coming down in a oner (pronounced wunner).  Sod that climbing up a ladder with the chain-saw in one hand and my heart in my mouth.

The theory of tree-felling is simple.  Seemples.  Even beavers can do it.  Cut a vee-shaped wedge out of the side the tree is going to fall to and then cut round the opposite side and watch it fall neatly – exactly where it was supposed to.  Away from you.

I cut the vee.  Went round the back and cut there.  I’ll tell you what – when the tree starts cracking and then starts falling, there’s no time to shout “TIMBER!” – it’s every man for himself and hope you pick the right direction to run.  The tree landed perfectly safely.  It was only about 170 degrees in the wrong direction.  If you are thinking of cutting down a tree – best check on that vee thing.

I trimmed another big tree this week at another house.  Wonderful thing that “word-of-mouth”.  Well it wouldn’t be word of ear or nose would it?

This big bastard was over-shadowing a small shed.  One of the branches landed on a rotary-clothes-drier.  Another broke three ridge-tiles and one hit me on the head.  The latter was totally unavoidable and I knew it was going to hurt.  It stopped hurting a few hours later and there wasn’t a lot of blood.

This job is ongoing.  I will update.

I’m fed up.  I’m off for a shower.  Tara.


About Stevie B

I retired to the sun in February 2010. I am far from bored but I do need an interest (preferably one that pays).
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