Creature Discomforts

Thurs to Sat 1 - 3 August 2013

Hallelujah!  We have a flushing loo.  Thursday 1 August - an auspicious day in the annals of Goat Bottom (take that as a pun or two if you like!).  The loo was installed by lunchtime, Dave had the basin up by teatime, and before supper I'd rustled up a temporary partition and curtain for a bit of privacy.

Time for a bit of a look round, I've been focusing on the details a lot recently, so here are some views of our current living spaces:

 The field kitchen - now we have a sink, the kettle can move in, and as the compost toilet has been decommissioned, we have the electricity to run a second fridge in the building site.

 

 The 'lounge' - where we lounge, between projects and all afternoon in August when temperatures exceed 35 centigrade and the sweat pours off you just sitting still.

 The area to the North East - which will be kitchen/eating space.

 Our magnificent stairs and balcony in the centre of the house.

Once the loo was installed, we got all excited and laid some old carpet and bought a couple of lights, so we could easily slip to the loo in the night (no need for shoes and outdoor, thistle-avoiding clothing),  but fate had a new torment for us.  The first evening we lit the place up - wantonly spending electricity for the sheer fun of sitting up after it was dark - horrors!  Invasion of the inch-long hornets.  Unlike wasps, it seems they are attracted to lights at night.  We must have a nest quite close.  Eugh.  Six or seven of these buzzing round the lights as we try to do teeth and scuttle under cover of the mosquito net.   But they followed the lights, up the stairs and to the bedside, where we fought a last ditch battle with the insect spray.  It was unpleasantly freaky.  We won, thanks to chemical warfare, but something has to be done.

One of the victims

Meanwhile, one of our hens has gone all hormonal and become broody.  This means she stops laying, and sits on any eggs the other one lays, despite there being no hope of a hatching, inside the little chicken hut, in August, without food or water.  We poke her out at intervals to get a drink, but she clucks and ruffles her feathers at us and is clearly disappointed by our attitude.