Today I journeyed to the arse end of nowhere, deep in the moor. I left instructions with veriouse folks that "if I wasn't seen by tea time they better send out a rescue party".
Mr Coaker is a cattle farmer and a sawer of English oak.
The reason that I went there was to sort through the never ending stacks of timber to find some dry oak blades for the arch brace truss I'm building.
MI actually really enjoin hanging around up there. It's a place that is well hidden from the health and safety baffoons and when the sun is shining and the dogs are warming them selves in the autum sun it's a pretty bloody cool spot to spend a morning.
After driving my overloaded trailer back to the site it was time to start making the slabs fit .
More of that tomoro.
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