Monday 21 Jan 2013
Dry enough for Dave to get back to sanding the last bits of the wood frame. But with only 30mins left to do, the sander broke. Typical! Dave took it apart and found that one of these brushes had sheared.
A quick trip down to Nidri, and the sheared bit had been replaced with some squashed wire and a soldering iron. But the rain was back and the job stalled again.
Meanwhile, I had been wondering whether some of the basket weaves I'd just learned might come in useful, both for making hurdles to shelter areas of the land, and maybe for wattle panels to put in the interior walls. I did some experiments, but olive wood doesn't want to behave like hazel.
Demoralised, I did a bit more to the terrace wall, and put in some edging stones to protect Dave's drainage trench from the excavated earth, but it was very muddy and sticky: 'claggy' as Dave would say.
The chickens are alive and well, just so you know. They are happily laying two large brown eggs each day, and don't seem too concerned by the rain, except that they sunbathe in the brief interludes when it is possible, lying on one side and spreading their wing feathers out to the sun. Here they are looking guilty while checking the deck for cat food.
I remembered seeing in one of our local flora books that the Greeks apparently used Myrtle for basket weaving, so now we're on a search for myrtle, which grows like a weed in some hedgerows. Dave recalled seeing some up near a friend's villa, so we went in search, finding some cut withies by the roadside as well as a supply of myrtle, both of which we made off with.
Dry enough for Dave to get back to sanding the last bits of the wood frame. But with only 30mins left to do, the sander broke. Typical! Dave took it apart and found that one of these brushes had sheared.
A quick trip down to Nidri, and the sheared bit had been replaced with some squashed wire and a soldering iron. But the rain was back and the job stalled again.
Meanwhile, I had been wondering whether some of the basket weaves I'd just learned might come in useful, both for making hurdles to shelter areas of the land, and maybe for wattle panels to put in the interior walls. I did some experiments, but olive wood doesn't want to behave like hazel.
Demoralised, I did a bit more to the terrace wall, and put in some edging stones to protect Dave's drainage trench from the excavated earth, but it was very muddy and sticky: 'claggy' as Dave would say.
The chickens are alive and well, just so you know. They are happily laying two large brown eggs each day, and don't seem too concerned by the rain, except that they sunbathe in the brief interludes when it is possible, lying on one side and spreading their wing feathers out to the sun. Here they are looking guilty while checking the deck for cat food.
I remembered seeing in one of our local flora books that the Greeks apparently used Myrtle for basket weaving, so now we're on a search for myrtle, which grows like a weed in some hedgerows. Dave recalled seeing some up near a friend's villa, so we went in search, finding some cut withies by the roadside as well as a supply of myrtle, both of which we made off with.
Saw this frog in a pool, enjoying life in the damp.
