Bohemian Antiks Continue

Tee-Poo

All is well at New Mill.  Apart from the fact that Dog got up on the kitchen island and ate all the eggs I had forgotten to put away last night.  But luckily, Husband discovered a new secret laying spot in the back paddock on an old trailer so we're golden.  Delicious eggs with mushroom  for breakfast.  

Today Boris Johnson was elected as the next UK leader, meaning that the impossible situations of Brexit with all the magical thinking that's entailed weigh on our minds.  We have done what we can to secure our own positions.  I work and pay taxes here. Husband has permanent residence, but our positions are far from guaranteed.  And Boy will have to get a visa to visit his second home.  Or somehow apply for residence before Halloween. 

In case you don't know Dog is our rather elderly Ridgeback. She still has the spirit of naughty strong within her, so she is young at heart.  When she stops being bad, I'll start to worry.  She is an expert in locating and then stealing food.  Every. single. person.  who comes to the house has to be briefed.  "If there is any food, or food-like substance, or food substance residue, in your bags, or anywhere else that is not on top of the wardrobe. She will open the door to your room when you are not around.  She WILL find it.  She will, and not too carefully, empty out your entire bag for single peanut. "

Sometimes the warnings land. Sometimes not.  We try.  But most people seem to have a forgotten ham sandwich or a supply of polish sausage or a bag that some time in the past had some food in it.  But even I forget - as evidenced this week by the number of times Pig's food has been eaten by Dog, and all of the eggs last night.  It does seem particularly cheeky that she actually stands on the kitchen island.  It's bad enough that she sits at the kitchen table with us for breakfast, but that's really taking the piss. 

We have a couple from France here at the moment.  They have been learning the fine art of mowing with a scythe and now the triangle of land which belongs to the village is neat and tidy again.  We will cut it with the electric mower once we've moved the hay of (that's the royal we).  It will look like a place, rather than a bit of abandoned land.  We should put a picnic bench there. Our visitors are responsible and hard-working.  They have also cooked many delicious French-style dishes for us, for which there are no names in English.  A savory cake with sun-dried tomatoes.  A Jardiner -  dish with lots of fresh veggies and potatoes. A beautiful veggie lasagne.  I am making lunch today and should try to create something to match their high standards.

Sushi I think - home-style Japanese sushi -  which is made the way my bona-fide Japanese friend showed me.  You cook some sticky rice and add the sushi vinegar and sake,  cut up all the fresh veggies into stick, and arrange them  on one of those turn-around plates, as well as whatever protein you have - tuna, crab sticks, omelette strips or whatever. They you quarter the pieces of nori seaweed paper and put them in a pile.  Pour out some shallow di.  shes of soy sauce and put a jar of majo on the table with a long spoon.  Then everyone just helps themselves.  No pre-rolling, only cutting!  As long as one of the avocados has finally ripened, we're good to go.

Avocados are one of my main bug-bears about living in the Czech Republic.  They are like gold dust in these parts.  We used to have a specialist greengrocer in the village who would order one in for us if we gave them advanced notice. And in the supermarkets they are sold only when they are as hard as golf balls.  As soon as they ripen, they are considered bad and chucked out.  Or put in the bargain bin for British people to rescue.  I miss Birmingham's fantastic veggie market, where the motherload of Mangoes or Avocados could be had at closing time on a Saturday afternoon.  Too much guacamole.  What a delicious problem to have. 

So.  Today I have been wrestling with the tee-poo.  It was a bit wonky, and there was a lack of an overall feeling of safety while you were using it. Like the whole thing might keel over.  I suspect Pig has been having great fun pushing the poles about. The design is inspired by the Native American template, which means that the structure is very easy and fast to assemble.  Three central poles are firmly tied together forming a tripod, then additional poles are placed between them and lashed together before the cover is attached. In this case fabric from a huge billboard from an exhibition.  Anyway, I took the whole thing down, re-orientated it and put it back together. Now we wait to see what Pig will do.

The tee-poo  is our answer to the problem of the old neighbours either stealing our waste water system, or cutting off our access to it, or selling us a house where they lied about there being a waste water system.  I am not sure which one of these is true.  I'm not sure that I will ever know.  Anyway, the upshot is that we must have an outside toilet. No pooping inside the house.  Unless you are a kitten, in which you are allowed to use a litter box. Nobody else.  Anyway,  our neighbours have put themselves in a nice, new waste water treatment system for their cottage, which they are now renting out to strangers. Which means that for the last three weeks we've had different unknown  people walking past the spot where we have to go out and use the teepoo.  This is at best irksome, and has prompted me to address the land boarder problem.  The surveyor will come round and mark the property line next week.  Then I can put up a new fence in the correct position.  And investigate where our waste water treatment has gone!

The generation who were kitten-murdering, alcoholics with guns have now passed into the annals of history, so the surveyor is prepared to come back as I'm pretty sure nobody will shoot him now. 

Onwards and onwards!