First Near Death Experience

Hey all,

I was about 10 seconds away from getting killed today when a massive industrial floodlight the Boss had erected on a bit of four by two wood the height of a telephone pole (attached with a couple of brackets that I wouldn't use on a bookshelf) crashed to the ground shortly after I had walked under it.  Losing my private room tomorrow as there are apparently a couple of Kiwis coming to join us at the house – the Slovak rumour turned out to be just a rumour.  Might move in with the Pole as he has a bigger room with some storage space and the Kiwis are mates anyway so will probably want to sleep in the same room.

Don't know when I'll get to post this – missing the internet.

Weeks later: rest of Christmas tree farm posts not in day by day order, due to intense exhaustion, 7 days per week, a once in a century blizzard that engulfed the entire country for weeks, leaving in the dark, sometimes walking through a solid mile of snow to get picked up from the road, getting home in the dark, sometimes walking a solid mile through the snow all over again, cooking dinner, making lunch, collapsing into coma.  On plus side, Canada and I conspired and plotted and landed the job for the entire season of making the pallets with Poland, which meant no more dragging trees (digging them out of snow drifts with hands, dragging them through 100 metres of testicle deep snow, all day, high of -7C, low of -15, etc. etc.  (I have read the Gulag Archipelago, don't need to live it for six pounds an hour)) but even better it usually meant an extra hour's work a day in the shed, where there are lights – which is basically an extra day's pay a week.  Despite huge dramas caused by unprecedented November cold snap (8000 trees left uncut) Boss did not take it out on workers, which I respected – he initially struck me as someone who would.  Forklift Driver definitely a positive influence on Boss.

Feet knackered with mystery lumps all over them, one of my elbows won't straighten properly any more, basically exhausted, in a hostel for a couple of nights in Edinburgh – more exhausted due to insane snoring last night, trying to catch up on blogs all day, but, on the plus side, off to Paris tomorrow, where K will be arriving the day after.  Joy.

Even working at the shed (about half the time outside the shed in the snow doing the same job of making pallets, but without a roof) I have lost weight: here is an average day's food...

Breakfast:
Bowl of porridge in mixing bowl with tablespoons of sugar all over it.
Three egg omelette.
Bacon.
Coffee.

Lunch:
Three sandwiches, thick butter, four slices of ham in the meat ones, peanut butter and jam on desert.
About 100 grams of peanuts.
Half a packet of biscuits.
Two museli bars.
Apple and banana.

Dinner:
A family sized casserole dish full of pasta with sauce made from bacon or tins (plural) of tuna, loads of butter, loads of salt, half a tray of mushrooms and/or onions, and about a third a block of cheese.  Desert usually involving half a bottle of double cream, jam and/or can of tinned fruit.

Sundry snacks throughout day of biscuits, peanuts, meat pie that Boss's Wife usually brings around to everyone near end of the day, toast before bed, biscuits in bed.

Photos. 1.  Pile of trees outside after first real snow.  Looks pretty until you have to pick them up by hand and throw them over your shoulder, somewhere between 1000 and 2000 times a day.  2.  Outside pallet box in the snow.  Canada sitting down, Tall Posh Boy (more on him later) passed the trees to him on the stack of pallets after I got them off the stack and passed them to TPB.  3.  Same stack of trees outside after second day of real snow.  Looks even prettier.  Even less pretty to work with.

Cheers, B.