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“Whats that structure there?” so came the innocent question from the Reuters news journalist.
“A bench.” I said. What else could it be?
The last week has been full on. Monday to Tuesday I was visited by an extremely talented photographer, Greg Funnell (www.gregfunnell.com) and then Wednesday- Thursday, a young adventure called Kevin who is planning to cycle and sail around the world next year (www.becauseitisthere.co.uk) each were treated to the delights of treehouse living from pheasant to squirrel and even a taste of the somewhat elusive Cauliflower fungus. Friday was left aside for a visit from Reuters News and weirdly, as I later found out, the chairman of Reuters happens to be my next door neighbour and lives the other side of my wood. That would explain the big house and perfectly manicured gardens…
I took on the massive responsibility of doing all the photography for my forthcoming book about my time in a tree…a daunting prospect indeed. Most of the time it is only me down here, so I (at the mercy of Nikon’s terms) have become a bona fide master of the self timer…sort of.
Whilst perusing through the photo library to get rid of any dead wood, I came across these shots. Now some are due to fish misbehaving (slippery buggers) and others are taken in that moment you know it is too late for suitable posing, so inevitably you do something stupid…perhaps these are the pictures that were never meant to be posted, but the self timer has become a large part of Treehouse living and its only fair to show a few!
I apologise for the blatant humanity and lewdness of some...but such is life!
You can guess at the use of profanity here after dropping a large pike that was reluctant to have it's picture taken.
Back in my boarding school days, around the time of A-level examinations, myself and a few friends would meet for “Gin club” every Tuesday. Often held in one of our rooms, although we were all on the same floor at the top of the house (perfect positioning to avoid getting busted by our house master). Gin club consisted of sitting around in armchairs, having a good chinwag and a few G&T’s before bed after a hard evenings revision.
With my time in the treehouse drawing to a close, I have become increasingly pensive. What lead me down this path and why? It was with such things in mind that I decided to take a trip down memory lane and head over to the depths of Ashdown Forest: my stomping ground from the age I could walk till the midst of my adolescent youth.
They say some things are best left in the past, in this case seeing what the nouveau-riche scum that now resided in the old Weston homestead had done was appalling. Gone was the orchard and many of the trees I first clambered up, the gardens: landscaped and covered with disgusting moulded statues of naked ladies…clearly money can’t buy taste!
One thing I am always on the lookout for down in the woods is a tasty snack: a quick-fix solution for a rumbling stomach that doesn’t need skinning, cleaning or cooking first. There have been a variety of different treehouse titbits: Pickled eggs, pickled samphire, flatbreads & stinger pesto, apples, stock cubes & boiling water, blackberries…etc. Now autumn has arrived Chestnuts and hazel nuts are becoming incredibly popular.
A snackfood down here needs to be able to pack some serious protein for the amount of energy I use. Beef jerky or biltong have always been good friends of mine, so much so that I got my hands on a biltong machine and posted the results here sometime ago. Without a fridge or freezer, a glut of meat needs to be processed for future use. My degree in archaeology, in which I specialised in Hunter-gatherer societies finally becomes handy…what to do?
