More Work To Do .....

  Remember the fencing I had to do, Here ?

Got that all finished up nicely. Look:

  See how the crafty wire forms an inward carpet? Vegetation'll grow up and through that. Soon just form an invisible and impenetrable Dog Barrier.

  And here's the long side of that stand of bushes:

  See? Bush is already thrusting through the stock fencing and hiding it. I'll hedge trim to within a few inches of the fence, in future. Be a wall of green, hiding the fence buried within.

  Fucking great, it is! I can now just let the Dogs out, in the morning, and pretty much leave them to their own devices.  They've somehow decided, of their own volition, that 'up the back' is off limits. Maybe because I no longer go there? 

  Either way, yeah, they now stay in the compound and it's lovely to let them just wander about or bake themselves in the sporadic sunshine.

  I need to get the back fence put up now. Just because. Posts are long since sunk. All the runners and pales are painted. Just need Pat to help me for half an hour more. Cutting a notch out of a tree and simply holding one end of the runners, as I screw them on. Rest I can sort out alone.

  Right now though, the thing on my mind is the stable roof! FFS! It's corrugated asbestos and caving in! It won't stand up to this coming Winter.

    So, fuck the overdraft. I'm going for broke. (Christ, I'll be broke!) But, my horses will have a luxury roof over them that'll still be looking fantastic, long after I'm gone.

  Suffice it just to say that, as I type; If it rains? The fucking rain comes in and drips directly into the very place where there hay feed goes. So, they get wet as they munch on wet hay.

  It also runs down on the only spot available to store their half a dozen bales at a time that I buy them. But, that's nothing though. Ignore it, and the whole fucking lot will simply collapse, this Winter. No two ways about it. 

  Here's what it looks like, today then:

   And, believe me, that shit's shot to shit. It's a fucking abortion up there. Half the rafters beneath it are rotten as pears too. Never mind though. I'm on the case. 'Nuff said. Massive money is now pledged to this situation. Twenty by Thirty roof? Fuck, yeah!

   Watch this space! 

Pat; The Man Is A Fucking Legend !

 So; My entire life, right now, seems to revolve around these Dog fences I'm working on. I aim to make my entire compound inescapable to my Dogs. 

 It's costing me £ Hundreds! Timber. Paint. Hardware. I'm just throwing money at it, month after month. And the man hours are just sublime! It's become 'What I Do', these days.

 I'm spending entire, full days (after days!) just painting or staining dozens of four foot x 3 3/4" slats. Each one needing at least three coats. My home has become a slat factory. I'm not shitting ....!

 

  Of course, all these slats have to be screwed to horizontal runners. And they have to be screwed to posts! Posts that need to be sunk deep into this large stone infested ground.

  Pat said he'd found a guy with a Post Driver on his tractor. We needed to get the posts positions of the bottom and back fences worked out, so the guy could just drive in here. Drive the posts. And drive out. Every minute would be costing me yet more money.

 I was okay with that. I've long since lost count of the expenses here. It's for my Dogs. So, fuck it. Then, last Sunday happened ....!

  13:00. I heard a noise and glanced out to see Pat's van arriving at my gate. So, I wandered out there to greet him and see what the craic was. He asked me if I had my cro bar. Of course I did. Pat often enough liked to borrow it. No problemmo.

 Then, it started! Fucking hell! Far from putting the heavy bar in his van and driving off; He marched down to the bottom of my compound with it. And there he looked about and then started smashing the fucking thing into the ground like a man possessed! I'm like; " WTF?! "

  Without going into every moment of a blow by blow account; The guy just went fucking balls out fucking Nuclear! String lines were strung. Bars were smashed into the ground. Solid, large stones were shattered where they lay. I got to hold the fucking string out of his way!

 Then, he asked for my Post Driver ....! Get to fuck ....! I'm a full head taller than Pat. But, I'm now reduced to skin, bone and water. I have no muscle and no strength. Pat is scary!

  Exactly two hours after he'd pulled up ~ Pat drove away.  I was just in awe of what I'd beheld that afternoon. His parting shot had been something to the effect that the man and the post driving tractor would have cost me €50 -100. And that the stones would have broken half the posts anyway. 'Fuck That!'

  So, he'd simply rolled his figurative sleeves up. Jumped in his van and come down here. On his day of rest. He left me with This ....!

  My bottom fence posted and ready for the runners. And, not content with that ....?

  The Human Dynamo sunk four more, at the back of my place too! And there he Really had to smash that bar through some massive fucking stones! (I got to hold the string out of his way, again. FFS!)

  I'm telling ye; All this guy needs is a fucking cheroot. A squint. And to whisper. 

  Fucking Legend!!!

I've Been Busy .....

 Fencing and Gating! It's fucking amazing how much work, time and Money can be sucked in by the slightest bit of fence too! Fucking paint alone averages out at €30.00 for half a gallon. And, of course, ye need undercoat and top coat. Right there, better part of fifty quid gone then.

 Fence posts? Tenner a time. 4" planed timber, for making the 4' palings and the runners? Just fucking Throw cash at those! Buy that shit by the truck load! Screws. Hinges. Catches. Bolts. Concrete. Cement? It's just fucking mental!

 And then, there's all the time and labour involved in it. Seemingly endless days and nights of painting these four foot lengths of wood. Fucking Army of them! Row upon row of the bastards!

 And what did I get for all that? About a ten foot stretch of gated fence. That's what. FFS. 

 Alright. Okay. I'm fairly chuffed with it. It does look the bollocks. It'll make our ringing activities here so much sweeter. (We can now run the net right through the hedge. Not just have to sort of black out the top of one side).

 Most of all though; It's now my gate. In my hedge. And it functions like just what it sounds. Up until now I've been getting by with a ten foot field gate. One stolen from Pat (Not by me!) and stuck in there. Long since narrowed down to a few feet by the encroaching hedgerow.

 First, the steel field gate had to go.  

Then, I had to clear the brush, yet secure the gap so my Dogs couldn't disappear through it

 Oh, the joy of living with a bodged barricade as the only thing between my Dogs and the end of the world as I know it! That really added a certain frisson to letting them out, day and night!

Work was slow .....

 Now? I fully intend to let the hedge grow back and envelope the palings.  I need only the neat little, three foot, 'garden' type gate. Palings are just there to keep my Dogs from dashing off into greater Leitrim, through the massive space left after Pat and I chain sawed the fuck out of the hedge, to retrieve his €100.00 field gate.

 

I'm satisfied with the result though