My neighbour Jim & I have now began to store wood for the onset of winter 2012-2013. It is debatable that the winter has arrived already, given tha\t the summer to date in the UK has/is shite. But be that as it may we have established wood stores dotted around our garden, over the fence at the rear of my garden where we have established 4 'cabins' (constructed by ourselves from recycled wooden pallets) These nest snugly on the embankment above the railway line that runs at the rear of our houses. We have these already stocked to the brim with sawn logs, seasoning as I type that we have gleaned from locations around the city & county of West Midlands.
But: We are running out of space! So enterprising wood gleaners that Jim & I are we have managed to scrounge a could of wooden packing crates from local DIY merchants.These are ideal for both the storage & seasoning of our collected wood & are stored in the upper parts of our respective gardens. We have established a 2 tier storage system with potted plants on the roof-to make them look pretty don't you know!
Aside of anything else the logs, as they sit seasoning look rather aesthetically pleasing to the eye. I have hit a snag however in the form of feline intrusion. Charlie Coal it appears, has heard of the old British Law of 'Squatters Rights' The law apparently has a definition that goes something like this..." A method of gaining legal title to real property by actual, open, hostile, & continuous possession of it to the exclusion of its true owner for the period prescribed by state law"Charlie you see has moved in & occupied the upper tier of the storage case. Along with a garden gnome which also occupies the case, he sits, sleeps, washes, & surveys his estate. Soft prat that I am I even placed a couple of old thin chair cushions for him to be more comfortable on !!
He retires there post breakfast, nips off to conduct his ablutions & returns there to sleep the day away. Its a great life don't you think??
Tonight as I went into the garden to water the potted plants, he rolled on his back & enticed me to tickle his tummy! And guess what???...I fell for it...I tickled his tummy, But before long I was dismissed when he began to wash his arse.... Sweet.
I enclose a couple of photographs of Château Charles.