Living simply in an over-complicated world
Our state government has decided it wants to investigate sustainability and tell us all about how to have a small carbon footprint.
The best way to do this is with a big truck, so we can see they are really, really serious about sustainability. As long as it doesn’t mean changing anything.
Remember: Infinite growth is possible with finite resources. We will discover a cheap recoverable energy source to replace oil. Technology will save us.
Above are two of our project boxes being oiled. The one at the back is mine, the one in front belongs to another student.
We were supposed to allow the oil to soak into the wood for fifteen minutes, then wipe off what was left, leave the boxes to dry overnight and then sand them lightly and repeat. Simple enough. Unfortunately someone who will remain nameless misunderstood the instructions and applied two coats of oil on one day, which I now know is courting disaster and shame, or at least a slightly blotchy finish.
After an hour of sanding down the surface, and ruining about seven sanding discs, I started again, fretting all the time about the mess I’d made.
It seemed to work out. Below all the boxes are drying after their second coat of oil. Because I’m such a special person, mine has a trolley to itself on the left end.
Cycling by itself is all very well, but it leads to other things, like permaculture courses and interest in alternative lifestyles and before you know it you’re seriously working out how to go off grid and build a house out of tree bark, so in case anyone out there is wondering, here are a few pointers that may indicate you are going down the same slippery slope…
You don’t know the names or personal lives of anyone who became famous since 1995.
When you go to the garage you fall over 3 buckets, a bike pump, and a breeding colony of pickle jars.
You sit in the doctor’s waiting room reading instructions on how to make compost toilets.
Social events are annoying impositions on gardening/bike repairing/chicken house building time.
You don’t see adverts.
You are genuinely startled how well roads connect into a network.
You’ve arrived early at meetings so many times you no longer remember to look smug.
Your mother has to explain what an ‘i-Pad’ and a ‘Kindle’ is*.
You haven’t been to a ‘high street’ store in months.
You don’t know why people are looking at your bike. (Thanks to Karl Mckracken for that one)
You don’t know the difference between a Porsche and a VW.
You go out for the evening wearing work boots. Again.
Your dream house is a yurt.
You don’t even know where the nearest Mc******s is.
The last time you went on Eb*y, you bought seed pots, a hammer and some chicken wire.
A ‘Good weekend’ means going to the garden and making a significant dent in the jobs list.
If you recognise any of these, then you could be on the way to becoming a subversive. I’m sure someone somewhere has a way to help people like me to get back into the mainstream, stop thinking and obsess about the lives of people far wealthier than I am. I’m having too much fun to find out though.
*She did.
The sun is shining, the rain has stopped, the steep part of the garden is no longer a mudslide, and the seedlings are growing. In fact the only blot on the joyful horizon is that I’ve pulled my biceps on both arms. This is probably the result of suddenly going from a job sitting and typing to a job which involves lugging large amounts of timber about the place. I’m now written off sick for three weeks while they sort themselves out again. My elbows have been mummified in pressure bandages and I’m taking some pretty hardcore anti-inflammatory drugs. I’m now banned from the garden except for light stuff like seed trays and painting. Doing things like unloading trailers full of roofing tiles and building materials is out of the question.
Ahem.
Here’s some of the family transport out in the sun being washed for spring. I really should have done this a lot earlier: not only was there the remains of rust from road salt, but some bikes had autumn leaves stuck in the mudguards.
Cleaning bikes, of course, is a pretty sure-fire way of making sure it will rain for the next day or so. While I was washing the bikes the weather went from bright sunshine to heavy rain in the space of an hour and it carried on all night, so all the jobs I had lined up for the weekend in the Very Smallholding, like finish digging over the awkward veggie bed, get the scythe sharpened and cut the Almost Hayfield while I still could see over the top of the grass, and prepare some kind of space ready to stack the wood from the monster tree when I finally get someone to cut it, etc, probably aren’t going to happen.
This is frustrating, specially as I was already getting behind with everything. So much for this being a way to drop out of the rat race and relax.
On the other hand, I can still plant a fair number of seeds in my home-made starter pots, and the boys are all growing things in containers on the balcony, so we can make a start on that as well.
Having cleaned the Xtracycle I finally got around to replacing the brake blocks. The last ones are were cheap no-name parts and made a noise like fingernails being pulled down a blackboard whenever I used them. They were also nearly through to the metal. This time I got slightly more expensive versions in the hope they last a bit longer: the blurb claimed they are made of all kinds of high-tech compounds so they work better over time instead of squeaking.
They have orange bits and mysterious letters on the side which will of course improve their performance dramatically.
So here’s the Very Smallholding. it may look as if I’m doing nothing but I’ve at least managed to get some of the weeding done*, with some help from my parents who came to visit and brought a nice stainless steel fork as a late Christmas present. If that wasn’t a hint to get moving I don’t know what is.
Last year I planted almost everything at once and ended up with a million leuttices**, half a tonne of courgettes and enough cannonball sized kohl rabi to reenact the battle of Waterloo.
Most of this, unfortunately, ended up in the compost bin: we only have so many neighbours who need seven courgettes a week.
The plan this year is to make smaller batches and plant each week. I’ve started to plant seeds in my usual home-made paper pots, but I’ll also be planting more seeds directly into the garden. Smaller things and salads will mostly stay on the balcony in the earthboxes I made a couple of years ago.
Thanks to The Boys and their friends running up and down the hill last summer, it looks like I won’t need to clear a way through the brambles as much this year, although some steps will be needed. Getting to the bottom of the garden is easy enough, if muddy.
Getting up again causes problems.
The monster tree at the bottom of the garden. The general opinion is that this is a pear tree. Unless it is apple.
I’m still working out a way to get this up and out of the garden so I can dry it properly and use it for something other than firewood.
*Pre-weeding view here.
**Still can’t spell ‘Lettices’.
Our college is partnered with a carpentry college in The Congo, and one of the commitments is to give every student who graduates a box of brand new, good quality tools. To get finance this we make wooden stuff and sell it. The Congolese students get tools and a good trade for life, we get experience making interesting stuff. Everybody wins.
Apparently cutting boards in the shape of pigs are a big seller.
I’m part of the team at the exhibition this weekend. My job is to cut accurate dovetails all day while answering questions intelligently. What can possibly go wrong?
Last week the train service to college threw a wobbly because a signal failed. Trains generally manage to arrive within five minutes of when they say they will arrive, but when things go wrong the whole thing seems to fall apart. From experience you just have to wait in hope until a train may or possibly may not come along, so I got back on the bus home, retrieved my bike and cycled to college instead.
It worked okay. The last hill on the way home was pretty tough, and I can’t say I felt like doing much in the evening. Probably not a commuting strategy for every day then.
I would probably be less tired if I had a bag that would clip onto the luggage rack instead of my backpack. I could also carry the backpack on the Xtracycle of course, but that would mean leaving the Xtracycle in an open bike rack all day.
Cycling all the way from home to college is considered seriously strange by most people of course, but people at college are used to my subversively hippy tendencies.
The first part of the cabinet I’m supposed to be building* is solid wood joined by good old-fashioned dovetails: seventeen per corner and four corners. In theory this means we get lots of practice cutting accurately.
We also get plenty of time sharpening and polishing chisels.
Finishing off one of the side pieces. Every join has to be connected several times, then taken apart again and the wood carefully chiselled out to make the fit better, without taking so much off that there is a gap between the sections. Of course, if you don’t take enough off then there is a loud noise announcing that the wood has split again, and it is time to get the glue out.
Notice set square carefully placed in shot to give the impression I use it.
This is culmination of about four days cutting and chiseling, the moment where all the sides have to be glued and clamped together in the hope they fit straight. Each join is unique by this stage so they have to be fitted in the correct order, and we have to make sure the sides are square.
The glue makes the wood expand slightly as well, so the joins are tighter than before, and it begins to set within eight minutes of being applied so everything has to be glued and straight within that time.
*Eventually I should have one of these. In theory.
This is the same view as last week. Being able to see the road ahead is quite exciting.
The weather does this quick change every year and it still takes me by surprise. I’m not complaining though.
In case you think I’m showing off, it’s still freezing in the mornings.
