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Difficult to live in a fantasy world with the growl of chainsaws!


So, escaped from the farm and radio 2 on full blast yesterday. Nanteos and the Paith valley were in full sunshine, no snow, though the grass was yellow with cold. The house was warm and quiet, only one young couple in for coffee. She was keeping her woolly hat on, though he was wearing a suit. Then the chainsaw started. Determined to keep to the 'every cloud' philosophy, I tried to fantasise about woods men in woods, but the safety gear and noise just didn't cut it. At the beginning of Dipping Pool, a huge oak has to be felled and it 'takes 5 men a week' but, on our small farm it took only one day for a highly skilled man with ropes and a chainsaw. He managed down every branch, knowing exactly where it was going to fall so that his two colleagues would be safe. Back in the 1750s it would have been a two man saw that cut through the trunk, the same technology as that used by Tadcu on the Ynyshir Estate as late as 1930! Only did 500 words as I was writing a poem about tree-felling and thinking about lumberjacks...


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