Just fired up my chimenea and chopped up some logs with my new axe, now i'm sweating like a rapist. The only really fulfilling work you can do is work that no one made you do, maybe it's the arsonist in me but what a great feeling it is to make a nice fire and enjoy the smell of the woodsmoke.
I reek of smoke and I have a sweaty arse crack with all the manly effort, so i'm thinking a Yorkie Easter egg as my reward after I sharpen the axe on my lathe.
That's a given, she'd expect no less at Easter. Anyhoo, I just stood back and admired my logpile, it's a thing of beauty I tells you. Some lovely kindling and good some sized chunks that will burn like a heretic, a nice blend of sticks even if I do say so myself. I've stripped to the waist now as well, I can see the neighbourhood wimmen ogling me through their curtains. They don't see a sight like this often in their sad empty, sexless lives. I consider this an act of community, it's my way of giving back.
Or a small werewolf. It is true, I am very hairy but the hairs are glistening with sweat and I know the ladies like that.
I spent a winter cutting down non-native pine trees in the Falls of Clyde, brashing them and and burning the remains. Now that's manly.
Damn right! Can't have these Swedish firs and Norwegian pines coming over here stealing our precious soil nutrients and water! It's bad enough they invade our homes every Christmas without blanketing the countryside with their piney scents and discarded needles.
Are Sweden and Norway not part of the European Union? If so, then surely an independent Scotland will get no more Xmas trees?
