Showing posts with label Axes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Axes. Show all posts

Wednesday, 14 October 2009

Chain Saw Reaction




Elsewhere on this blog I have drawn attention to the remarkable history of Scots Pines in the landscape. The tree here is opposite my home, and is in all probability a truncated Wellingtonia. There is a Scots Pine next to it, positioned at what was once a crossroads, now a T-junction at the centre of the village, but this magnificent specimen is one of the tallest and most magnificent trees in the area. So of course the good folk in whose garden it stands want to chop it down. And why? Because after the removal of a brick arch that allowed for any movement of the tree roots, the replacement wall with foundations is now prone to damage. And of course this might well effect the smooth operation of an electronic gate. Heaven forbid. The wholesale destruction of trees is usually the preserve of over-zealous councils in a deadly pact with contractors to avoid what they perceive is litiguous action. But for a private individual to destroy a tree as old and as important to the local scene and history as this one is thoroughly reprehensible. There might be some point if the roots were interfering with household wainscoting, plumbing, televisions and wi-fi's, but irresponsible destruction of this kind should surely be a very last resort. It just isn't any threat to anything important, and attempts to fell it before have apparently failed because of the good sense of those brought in to do the deed who have driven off shaking their heads. Not so now. I understand a chainsaw is being primed far away in an adjoining county. And yes, I believe there's a Tree Preservation Order on it.

Saturday, 8 March 2008

Passing the Thyme


You may remember I got overly emotional about the disappearance of the Norfolk Stuffing Mix packet (Remembrance of Tins Past 26/2/08). This was the one with the smiley pig and his endorsement of the product as 'Highly Recommended'. Well, as you can see, all is not as lost as I'd imagined. Those of you familiar with this blog and its environs will know that a certain butcher in Uppingham is rewarded with many walk-on parts, mainly for his pork pies. The shop stands at the eastern end of the High Street, with a bright red blind and a green and cream door open at the top like a stable. I was standing in there this morning, glad that there were a few people in front of me so that I could cast my eyes over the scene. Much chopping and hacking on a big butcher's block, meat in various stages of dismemberment like a Tibetan sky burial. String suspended from the axe and cleaver rack, carrier bags with farmyard animals on them. And then my eye casually rose above the pork pies (oh yes) to the top shelf. And there he was, Mr. Pig from Norfolk. They've modified his smile to be more of an expression of pathetic resignation, but I shall take his new recommendation of being 'The Original & Best' and make sure I get a good stuffing tomorrow.