My Family's Obsession With Cream Tea

I must make it sound like my family are so posh. Really, its a Northener and a Brummy with 2 Derby speaking kids. Yet for some reason we all seem to have this "The Good Life" outlook on life. My Dad is the perfect farmer, to the point where he sometimes gets up at the same time as me on a saturday morning as I am off to work at 5.30, just to check the chickens. My Mum is just as a good a farmer's wife. We have had to build a special cupboard in a space where the computer was for all of the jams and chutneys that my Mum makes.

My sister is a typical 15 year old really. She is not quite sure who she is yet, trying to be cool with her side fringe, blackberry and annoying statuses on facebook, that are easy pickings for a bit of casual sibling bullying. However she is never happier than when she is sat on a ride-on mower. And the worrying thing is she is blooming good at driving it!

Anyway we are digressing from what I actually started out writing this blog about. Th essence of that long winded and pointless background was that we are country folk at heart, and because of this we spend our weekends chilling up the allotment. Today my Dad even bought some fuel specially for his petrol lawn mower so he could mow around the edges and when I got in from work I was greeted by my Nana and my sister and the smell of something baking in the oven.

After a whole morning of baking bread, this was to be honest the last thing I wanted, but there we go. I was informed to have a shower and then get the car ready (complete with camping stove and gas kettle) to take warm scones up to the allotment. Firstly, who on earth thinks of making scones? Secondly, who on earth knows how to make scones? When I asked my sister this she replied, in a teenagers grunt: "It came in a bag." Upon clarification from my Nana, apparently there a several shops around the country full of bins full of stuff like scone mix and bird seed. Apparently too, my family have nothing better to do than to identify where these shops are and tour the country buying scone mix.

So there we are sat next to a veggie patch full of funny looking plants, in the playing field of my old primary school no less, eating scones, jam and clotted cream and waiting for what seems like eternity for a kettle to boil on a gas camping stove. This part of the story links quite nicely with previous blogs: the tea was made in my new university mugs, which for some reason my Mum thinks I need 4 of... 1 for me and the rest for my imaginary friends I suppose...

That said, with the great British sunshine burning down onto us whilst we ate warm (either because they were fresh or because they had been sat in the sun, not too sure which way) scones and tea, like posh people. 

The fact that this appears to be the highlight of my weekend is probably making you think I need to get out more. And you would be right, had I not have this story to tell from the day before: http://tomstalkblog.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/the-inaugural-university-preparations.html Yes that's right: University shoppping!

Thanks for reading!

Follow me on twitter: @peachy146

My Dad's New Crazy Idea

My dad, as I am sure many of you out there can sympathise with, is one of those Dads who pretty much every week comes up with a new outlandish idea to solve an on going problem or tackle a big DIY project. The example my family always use to highlight this is the bird table he once built. It currently sits on a 45 degree angle and hangs off the garden fence by a few screws and a bit of rusty bracket but as my Dad says, at least it has a perch for the birds to sit on!

This always causes much amusement whenever it is brought up over meal times and things like that, but it really does typify our Dad's imagination. Another thing about my Dad is that he is a farmer. Well actually he just likes to pretend he is a farmer, really he sells fertilisers to farmers and stuff like that, and keeps a pair of wellies in his boot at all times. That kind of a farmer. However, a couple of years ago my sister suddenly decided that she wanted some chickens. So my family did the most rash thing they have ever done in their lives. We decided to get chickens.

We spent a few weekends building chicken runs (which I designed, just thought I should point that out. Why my parents trusted me to design and build a chicken run, heaven only knows) and getting everything ready for the arrival of 4 new members of the family. With me and my sister solemnly promising to look after them, and then of course not looking after them, my Dad has sort of started a farm in our garden. we now have 12 chickens, numerous vegetables growing in random corners of the garden and a greenhouse, as well as I believe 2 grape vines, with the intentions that one day they may grow enough grapes for us to actually make some wine from (it's never going to happen).

Now Farmer Dad is on the hunt for some more stuff to put in his farm... trouble is he has sort of ran out of space in the garden. Naturally he has turned to the family smallholding in the Yorkshire Dales, where we now spend our weekends and holidays... And any other free time we have...

One of the fields that belongs to my Great Uncle, sits behind 3 lovely holiday cottages which as you may or may not be aware we are currently in the stages of "doing up" slowly but surely, to the extent where we just spent our family summer holiday fitting a new kitchen. And painting windows. Standard.

Anyway this field has 3 problems: Long grass, nettles and rabbits. A lot of rabbits. Think Wallace and Gromit and then some. My Dad's solution to these problems... wait for it... Get some sheep. That is right. My Dad would like to get a to quote "small flock of sheep" (apparently they don't like being on their own, ya know, because they are highly sensitive creatures) to keep the grass down and expose the rabbits so that they all "bugger off." And these are to be kept in a field 130 miles away. Actually 131 to be exact. 

The thing is though, I may mock my Dads crazy ideas, but they are ingenious, I have to give him that. So you never know, in a year's time I could be writing a post to you from the lovely dales of Yorkshire surrounds by thousands of sheep.

The trouble with this whole thing is, is that all I will be able to sing on the journey up there is "It's Shaun the Sheep, It's Shaun the Sheep" And I don't think there is any more to that theme tune so I could be a long drive up the A1/M1/AM1/(A)(M)1/North Road Thingy...

Thanks for reading!

Follow me on twitter for further updates on the sheep... and whether my Dad has been taken to the lunatic asylum yet @peachy146