Got home from work today feeling miserable, tired and aching like an achy thing that aches a lot on an achy day somewhere in Achesville.
So popped a few logs on the old fire and flopped on to the sofa.
Can’t beat a real log fire, and that is one of the benefits of living out in the country “likes what I do”. Most everyone out here has a fire, so no one objects to the smoke. Because its always raining in this country, the new wood is often quite damp, so I tend to cheat and put a layer of coal down and then place the wood on top. Mostly we use Beech wood, since that appears to be the local tree and are not short in supply.
If anyone lives with the triangle of Newbury, Reading and Basingstoke and you ever need logs, drop me an email and I’ll pass on the details of “Dave the Log Man”. Keeps my woodshed topped up all year round.
I’m still trying to locate a dealer who can get me some good old fashioned Irish peat. Then I can get my griddle out and cook some real soda bread complete with the smokey flavor from the fire.
See I don’t feel half as achy now. Damned hungry, but not so achy.
I’m off for some crumpet