Monday 30 September 2013

Straw Fever!

Thursday 12 September 2013

So we were just waking up on Thursday morning, thinking about putting the kettle on, a little concerned that the first rains of the summer were forecast for lunchtime, when my phone bleeped with a text.  I left it about 10 minutes, then when it bleeped again, I reluctantly scraped myself out of bed and went to answer it.  It was from Constantine, the architect.

"Bales are coming"
"When?"
"15 minutes"

Sudden frantic activity.  Up, dressed and laying out wood blocks across the living room floor to make a framework to stand the bales on, within moments.  With rain forecast, there was no time to lose, if a thousand euros of bales got drenched, the money would be wasted.

For once, Greek timekeeping was spot on.  Constantine arrived with the truck driver, to spy out the land, then returned with the truck, Another one to weave through our unfortunate orchard.  The rocks were in the way of a close delivery, so they just dumped the bales on top.

 08:08

 08:16

 08:18

 08:35
 This was where we thought - well, at least there's Constantine and the farmer and his helper to get all these inside before the rain - and then Constantine said - Must go - I want to get a coffee with the farmer, we've spent so much time chasing the bales by phone, I want to meet him properly.  Can't stay.  Oh, and he said some of the bales are very dense, up to 30 kilos each, and he made 4 too many, they're a gift ...

So we took a moment to look at 129 bales, and tried to think who we know who doesn't have backache (come back Richie!) ... and then began.  Dave worked out later it was about 3 ton of straw the two of us moved that day.

 08:56

 10:19 first teabreak

 10:20 happy scrabblers

 10:40 second teabreak
 
 12:12 lunchtime

 14:45 afternoon tea
(incredibly, still no rain, although dark clouds were massing over the mountains, giving me palpitations)

 14:46 a few bales still to move.  I was getting them from the receding heap to the door, and Dave was piling them up inside.  Every time he asked me 'How many left?  I said 'About 20'  until he came to check, by which time there were only about 20.  We did the last 40-odd together, on our knees ...

A few days later, when I was strong enough to lift a camera again.  The last seven are on the right.  I'd've left them out there, but Dave wasn't going to waste bales, so in they came, and we still had to find the energy to staple up polythene all round to protect them.  The rain started while we were still stapling.  What a marathon!

Our living room with straw installation.  I keep remembering big brother Nick saying scathingly as a child when I left his bedroom door open - Do you live in a barn?  How prophetic.

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